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Caravan park at Woree: Sugar cane trains running on narrow tram lines from farm to mill passed our back door:  |
Townsville to Cairns
A pleasant breakfast in the early morning freshness of the outdoors among
the golden cane palms made a good start to our departure from Townsville and
our drive to Cairns. I took the wheel for an uneventful drive to Cardwell
where we stopped for ice creams and a brief look at the ocean where the
beach was again bordered by casuarinas and mangroves. Bruce took the wheel
to Innisfail where we stopped to change driving shifts but as the day was
now warm and overcast, I was beginning to feel drowsy and lose concentration
so Bruce took over for the last leg of the journey. Now we were truly in
the heart of sugar cane country where huge areas of the pale green giant
grass adorned both sides of the road.
We reached the outskirts of Cairns and before we’d entered the more densely
populated central tourist area, Bruce turned off into a wide side street
towards our caravan park. It was so big it was almost a suburb in itself.
One of the park’s office workers dressed in the organisation’s green and
gold casually styled uniform invited us to accompany her for a ride in her
small open vehicle so she could show us where we were to put our van and
what the park’s amenities were. For ten minutes we were chauffeured past
the shop and associated café, the laundry and amenities block, through many
avenues of caravans, campervans, tents and converted buses, past the spot
which was to be ours, through rows of cabins , some obviously permanent,
past swimming pools and children’s playgrounds and back to our van at the
reception area. The entire park was beautifully laid out. Every sort of palm
tree was on display, set among lush gardens or philodendrons, dracaenas,
aspleniums, elephant’s ears, crotons and many other varieties of rainforest
plants. It was truly impressive and I decided immediately to take a walk or
two around the park during our stay of two days and three nights.
We ‘hopped’ back into our van [‘hopped’ is a euphemism for hauling ourselves
up the very high step. I had already decided to raise and lower myself very
carefully in this frequent exercise, using hands and arms to grab on to
various handy projections to save undue wear and tear on hips, knees and
feet] and Bruce backed the van very carefully into our spot. Unfortunately,
he’d misjudged the length and height of the van which gently crunched into
the soft metal guttering of our en suite building and left quite a curve in
it. He was mortified and hurried away to report the accident to the office,
but in the end, we heard nothing further about it.
We had scarcely begun to sort ourselves out when Bruce’s sister, Mandy,
called him. She told Bruce she, daughter Sherene and sister-in-law Ena were
hoping to come and see us for a chat. I felt truly daunted as we were not
in any way set up to entertain guests, but Bruce reassured me. ‘Don’t
worry. I’ll go to the gate and meet them when they arrive and I’ll take them
to the café and call you to join us.’
Relieved, I collected a now sizeable wash and took the long walk back to the
laundry together with all that I would need to do it. Bruce and I had a
quick snack before the ‘phone rang again and Bruce hurried off to wait for
his relatives. I told him I would join them as soon as I’d returned to the
laundry and switched the washing over to the drying machine.
All went as planned until I learnt when I met up with them near the office
that the café was only open in the evenings. Bruce had decided there was
nothing for it but to return to our van where he would make coffee. I
chatted to the women where we were for a few minutes before Bruce took them
with him and I returned to the laundry to retrieve and fold our large pile
of washing. I was already feeling somewhat jaded.
On my return to the van, I found Bruce had set up our table and folding
chairs for two of our guests and was chatting to them while waiting for my
return. I put the washing into the already very disordered van and joined
them outside. Bruce finally produced coffee for us, I gathered up a motley
plate of biscuits that had travelled all the way from Sydney and we
continued to chat. Unfortunately, the already warm, humid and overcast
atmosphere turned into a rain-shower. There was nothing for it but for the
five of us generously proportioned bodies to get into the van together and
continue socialising inside it. I felt mortified that they should have to
sit in such domestic chaos as I hastily pushed washing, pillows and other
paraphernalia out of the way to allow seating space.
‘I’ve always wondered what it would feel like, living on a Chinese junk,’ I
muttered remorsefully. Mandy smiled, intuiting my chagrin.
We had all come to Cairns together to celebrate Bruce’s and Mandy’s father,
Maurie’s 92nd birthday the next day, 8th August. We made plans to meet and
Bruce walked with our guests back to their car parked outside the caravan
park. Returning to me, he kindly suggested we dine at the café that night
and took off to make a booking. Later, we enjoyed being among other guests
at a buffet meal of more than adequate and quite delicious food and were
entertained by a couple of male singers dressed in Hawaiian shirts and
playing guitars. As we walked slowly back to our van, we heard the mournful
cry of a curlew. This triggered childhood memories for Bruce and he regaled
me with such stories til we reached our van and decided on an early night.
Privately, I was regretful that we were to spend so little time in this
lovely place, but time constraints on us for the whole trip were the order
of the day if we wished to see a complete snapshot of the vast state of
Queensland.