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Gillies Highway lookout: Atherton Tablelands: Cathedral fig tree:    Cousin Bill and Uncle "Bill" at Lake Eacham: 
Ravenshoe wind farm: Millstream falls:  |
Cairns to Mount Surprise
Another lovely morning thrilled us with its pink dawn silhouetting the now
familiar palms around us. After a quick stop at the nearby supermarket and
after filling up with diesel, and with Bruce at the wheel because he knew
Gillies Road which we were to take was very steep and winding, we were on
our way to our ‘real’ adventure. We were now halfway through our journey.
As we climbed ever higher up the mountains behind Cairns, I caught distant
vistas of sloping tree-covered slopes opening out over deep valleys with the
blue ocean as backdrop. When we were high enough, Bruce stopped to take
photos of the sugar milling town of Gordonvale.
At the top of the range,
we entered thick rainforest and before long, turned off the main road to
visit the Cathedral Fig Tree which gives the viewer a sense of being in an
arched cathedral. High up among its branches, growing vigorously without the
help of any gardener were brassaias, alocasias, aspleniums, philodendrons,
bromeliads, stags and elks. I could only stare in wistful wonder, recalling
my own rather less lustrous members of these families at home where they
require much loving care to stay alive at all.
We paused to admire other giant rainforest trees including a huge twisted
fig and a red cedar towering straight up high above us before returning to
the van and continuing over many kilometres of rough gravel road through
rain forest interspersed with pasture and past the man-made Lake Tinaroo.
We paused briefly to look at the dam, hoping to find a kiosk for a drink,
but were disappointed that the only possible place was closed.
I took the
wheel and we continued on to natural Lake Barrine, a volcanic crater.
There we stopped to meet two more members of Bruce’s family tree, old Bill
Grumley, now almost 92, and his son Bill, at the pleasant café overlooking the lake.
‘Young’ Bill, probably in his mid-‘60’s, took a while to relax into
conversation with us, but Old Bill was quickly into stories of his past,
dwelling happily on some of his more risky exploits. By the time we were to
leave, ‘young’ Bill had thanked and farewelled us warmly. As a final
gesture, they showed Bruce some ancient family photos and after a flurry of
clicking his camera shutter, Bruce and I were on our way again with me at
the wheel once more.
The next hour or so was a refreshing passage through gently undulating
hills, lush with green fields interspersed with tall eucalypts. It is an area in which Australian troops by the thousand were stationed during WWII. But
eventually the fertile landscape became dryer as we headed for Undara and
Mount Surprise. We stopped on the way for a break at Millstream Falls.
There was little water flowing in this dry season.
Bruce took photos of the area
before we set out on the remaining long drive to our destination.
We passed our first road train in this leg of our drive – a huge truck
pulling three huge bins. We were to see many more on our journey. The
landscape was now unremittingly dry. Thousands of termite mounds, obviously
surviving recent bush fires more successfully than the trees, stood up like
sentinels along each side of the road. At the edges of the road were
rippling streams of native grasses making lovely borders of rich cream and
pink with their feathery flowers shimmering in the late afternoon sun.
Gazing at them put me in a mild trance of delight as I realised all this
rugged grandeur was part of my home country . . .
The sun was low as we pulled into the Mount Surprise campsite, ‘Bedrock.’ Bruce
booked us in for a tour to see the Undara lava tubes the next day and for this we
were to be ready to leave by 8.00 a.m. I was instantly thrown into mild
anxiety as I realised that we’d have to get all the preparation for that
done before retiring. I was already aware of the need for haste to get
settled and get our dinner out of the way before dark as night falls
suddenly in the Far North and the park had few ‘street’ lights. The next
couple of hours kept us fully occupied as we got through a hasty meal,
tidied the van, prepared our clothes for the next day, set up ready for a
quick breakfast and took showers. Fortunately, the amenities block was
close and pleasant enough to enjoy. Once that was done, I could reflect on
the dusty simplicity of this park, laid out on the bare, hard ground with no
tarred bitumen lanes or concrete rectangles for its temporary residents to
set up their tables and chairs. A few spindly trees did give some softness
to our dusty surroundings. One of these, a smaller rainforest variety with
thick, smooth leaves growing just where I could see it as I lay in bed,
seemed to be alive with tiny lights as it reflected the now brilliant
moonlight. It was a kind of ecstasy that put me to sleep that night and
later, when I had to take my nightly walk to the amenities block, I was
again enchanted, this time with the million stars studding the inky sky. The
caravan park, now itself bathed in moonlight was itself suddenly
mysteriously beautiful, leaving me quite forgetful of ordinary things.