August 5th - Mossman Gorge & Cook Highway
Thursday 5th
It's hot and sunny. Ain't that neat? Hot 'n'sunny. Sunny and hot.
Chris is restless today, and seems to be having less of a good time than the rest of us; what's more, he's really not looking forward to the cramped trip south in the Tarago. Meanwhile, James's tonsillitis continues apace.
Before we can catch either gloom or bacteria ourselves, Pete, Claire, Rowena and I head out for the day, and wander up the coast. Up the Cook Highway towards Port Douglas we go, and a fantastic view it is, wherever we get the opportunity to pull in and see it. The view of Wangetti Beach from White Cliff Point stands out.
I'm still clutching (rather ragged now, after 3 weeks in my sweaty pocket) the scrap of paper where I jotted down notes on where to go, as Ivana reeled off a list, back in Melbourne. Both Port Douglas and Mossman Gorge are on that list, or an approximation of them, anyway - it was late, and Strong Drink had been taken. Eschewing Port Douglas, we head for Mossman Gorge; seems we can't get enough of gorges. This one, too, is described as boulder-strewn. Heading inland we meet the cooler wetter mountain air and enter the world of cloud and mist. Mossman Gorge, or Jinkalmu, and the mountains around it, have been the homelands of the Kuku Yalanji Aboriginals, for ever.
We wander around the river and rainforest circuits; the rainforest is indescribably beautiful. Reality is suspended; things don't fit into a camera lens, either portrait or landscape. Looking at my photos later, I can't even tell which way up some of them are meant to be. Meanwhile, I don't know which direction I've come in, where I am, where I'm heading, or whether it's 100 yards or 5 miles away.
This land feels both incredibly ancient and vibrantly young and raw, still being wrought by things way beyond anything I understand. It's overwhelming and it's humbling; there is no choice not to be overwhelmed or humbled, and so the acceptance of that is quite calm and natural. Later I hear people shouting and swimming in the river, and feel angry at their disturbance. Then I'm angry at myself, for being angry - why the hell should I know this place any better than them? Then I turn back into the forest, and become overwhelmed and absorbed again.
This is perhaps the best rainforest we've seen in Oz. What's more, we remark over and over again to ourselves that compared to uptight old Blighty, with its interpretation centres populated by herds of bovine disinterest, the Aussies really know how to do wildlife.
We feel the need for ice cream. We are Brits, after all. Luckily, there's a kiosk in the car park.
Heading back, we catch more photos on the Cook Highway. I head in to Cairns to do some shopping, and check email in the Internet cafe. It's filled with Japanese tourists; to the last, utterly unfathomable. They seem like lost people, somehow, to ignorant Western eyes at least, reluctant to leave the group, and absolutely obsessed with taking photographs of themselves, rather than the places they travelled thousands of miles to visit. One can only wonder how strange we seem to them.
Back at the villa, Chris announces that he's moving on to the next part of his travel plan; he's booked a flight to Tasmania. He's going. Tomorrow. Cripes! Less prosaically, I confirm the booking for tomorrow's fishing trip.
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All images are © Robin Somes 2004 - .
If you would like to use an image, please contact me.
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