On leaving Thursday Island I suppose I could have felt a bit downhearted, I was currently batting at 0 from 2, I didn’t get to see the Morning Glory or set foot on Booby Island, but I wasn’t! In fact as I got to reflect on my trip so far I was more than happy, the people I’d met and the experiences I’d had were exactly as I’d hoped for, and even though I hadn’t achieved what I’d come for, somehow it didn’t seem to matter, proof of the old adage, sometimes it’s the journey, not the destination!

The only thing I was dreading was the return journey over those roads! It was ok on the way up as there was a sense of the unknown and the anticipation of what lay ahead. However, on the way back I knew what I was in for and generally I hate retracing my steps, but at least it was only as far as Musgrave Roadhouse, a mere 555km away, where Laurance had suggested I take the Lakefield road into Cooktown rather than following the PDR all the way to the Cooktown turnoff.

For whatever reason the trip back seemed to go slower and the road seemed rougher than on the way up, but thankfully my friend Nick Butcher had arranged for me to visit Piccaninny Plains an Australian Wildlife Conservancy sanctuary which was about half distance. Picca as it’s called by those in the know was one of the great Queensland cattle stations in its heyday covering 165,00Ha but it now provides a protected habitat for a wide variety of native species. The scale of the property became apparent once I passed through the entrance gate and travelled 6.5km to the homestead where I was greeted by the managers, Nick and Holly Stock and their children Izzy and Billy who had just finished school for the day, thanks that great Australian institution “The School of the Air”. I’d inadvertently timed my arrival well as I was invited to lunch on some delicious fresh prawns that had arrived courtesy of the Stocks friend Russell who was visiting from Cooktown (my next destination). My luck didn’t end there either, during my extended stay with Sam the lithium battery in Max had run down and wasn’t recharging which was a concern as the next leg involved some off-grid camping. Fortunately for me Russell was a battery expert and was able to reboot the battery and get it recharging. Not a bad outcome for an impromptu visit, a great lunch, Max sorted and meeting a delightful family doing an important job with AWC.

Over lunch I’d mentioned that I was aiming for Musgrave Roadhouse that evening when it was suggested I must visit Lockhart River and Chilli Beach which Laurance had also mentioned. The turn off was just down the road and it was only two hours away, I guess that’s considered a short drive in these parts. Holly was particularly enthusiastic saying that as I got closer to the coast the vegetation changed from sparse scrub to dense rainforest and I should keep an eye out for the gorgeous green pythons that would be hanging out of the trees (Ok, whatever floats your boat Holly)!

Evoking the spirit of my adventure, and figuring I’d probably never get a chance to visit these places again I decided to change my plans and overnight at Chilli Beach. I soon realised this might not have been a wise decision as the road deteriorated with each passing kilometre and the road got and the fords got deeper and wider, this was real 4X4 territory (sorry max), but I decided to push on. After an increasingly tense two hours I arrived in Lockhart River, I drove around town and relooked at the map. I must be missing something, this was without doubt one of the saddest and most depressed towns I’d ever seen so I headed for the nearby beach expecting some sort of magical transformation. If that’s what I was hoping for I was out of luck as it was as deserted as it was uninviting, and that’s even before I saw the signs warning of crocodiles!

As it was now beginning to get dark I had a dilemma, do I try and head back to the PDR and stay at Archer River Roadhouse about three hours away on a very rough road with the likelihood of meeting all sorts of wildlife on the way, or do I try and find some where to hunker down. It was then that I remember seeing a sign for “The Greenhoose” on the outskirts of town and vaguely remember Nick and Russell saying something about it. Based on their recommendation for Lockhart River I wasn’t confident but was pleasantly surprised when I arrived to the sound of the dinner gong and found a seat at the head of the table with an assorted bunch of strangers most of whom were contractors working in the local mines. After a surprisingly good meal I curled up in Max and thanked my lucky stars that I’d dodged a bullet!

Thursday was another 500k+ day, from Lockhart River to wherever I end up on the Lakefield Road which Laurance suggested as more interesting way to get to Cooktown. Firstly I had negotiate the road I came in on yesterday and it was as bad and long as remembered, and vindication for not trying to do it the night before. Once I hit the PDR it was a breeze to Archer River Roadhouse, and better than I expected from there to Coen, I was beginning to think my recollection of the northbound journey were overblown. This complacency was soon dismissed as I hit what truckies would later tell me is the worst part of the PDR, around Bamboo and all the way into Musgrave is corrugation central and it was a relief to know that I’d be leaving the PDR at Musgrave for what I was told by both Laurence and a couple of road train drivers I met at Musgrave was a better road, the Lakefield road!

Initially this was the true until I got to Sweetwater about 50ks in, then things got a bit weird at the Breeza Plain, not only did the road get rough, the landscape went alien: there was no sign of human life, it was desolate, dead flat, burnt out and the only sign of life was about a million termite mounds – very alien!

Eventually I flagged down a couple of rangers heading in the opposite direction and asked if the road improved to which they avoided answering but they did say I might not need to worry about that as I might not be able to make it across the Laura River! When I arched up at the prospect of backtracking for over 200ks to Musgrave they said if I didn’t think I could make it across the river I could just take the turnoff to Laura which was only 27ks away on the PDR, and where I’d stayed on the way up. While this was reassuring I also wondered why I hadn’t just continued down the PDR as the Lakefield Road hadn’t been all it was cracked up to be, at least I wasn’t backtracking been and this was the spirit of adventure?

On arrival at the Laura river my spirits were lifted, firstly by the only other traveller I’d passed (other than the rangers) who’d just forwarded the river and said Max and I would make it easily (he was right), and secondly by finding the old Laura homestead, dating back to 1879 when an Irish immigrant by the name of Fergus O’Beirne bought the Laura Station lease (12,800ha) for £8. Despite the fact you could not get a more contrasting environment to the green hills of Ireland, by 1894 he had over 8,000 head of cattle, largely due to the efforts of his all aboriginal workforce, and was one of the original Queensland a cattle barons! This homestead is a relic from a past age and almost made the previous three hours worthwhile.

In 1978 the Queensland government bought both Laura and Lakefield stations and consolidated them into the amazing Rinyirru (Lakefield) National Park. Bravo!

So with renewed confidence I headed on and remembering that the rangers had suggested Isabella Falls as a good free camping option I made that my overnight destination. With the end in sight I ignored the variable road conditions and was oblivious to the changing landscape, what had been flat plains were becoming more hilly, even mountainous and the parched dry earth was starting to become wooded, this transformation seemed to happen quite subtly without me really being aware of it, and then all of a sudden I arrived at Isabella Falls, an oasis in the middle of nowhere, and what made it even better was that there was a bus load of indigenous kids up from Hope Vale connecting with country, singing and dancing in the water – their utter joy was obvious and infectious!

Once they left I had this amazing place completely to myself, off grid, out of mobile range with only the sound of the waterfall and birds to keep me company. After a well earned drink and dinner of baked beans and canned tuna I was lying in bed thinking things couldn’t get much better. The simple things!

The next morning was an easy run into Cooktown, through lush farmland and remnants of rain forest and a pleasant surprise – Cooktown was much better than I was expecting. Multicultural, incredibly rich in history and home to my second lighthouse – Grassy Hill!