Tag Archives: Scenery

Lizard Island, Part 1

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Saturday 5 October 2024 – Yesterday, 4th October, marked the start of the last leg of our two-month trip around Australia, as we beat a fairly hasty Retreat from the Rose Gums Wilderness (see what I did there?). Our destination for the day was Lizard Island, a 10 km² chunk of the Great Barrier Reef, off the north-east coast of Australia. The name refers to a multi-island group, a National Park, and a resort of the same name. The main island is small, and the only ways to get to it are by boat or on a light aircraft; using the latter was our plan, a one-hour flight departing from Cairns airport. We had a mild attack of planning hiccups when it became clear that we didn’t know how to get from the Avis car rental return depot to the “General Aviation Terminal” whence the East Air flight would depart. Our Audley instructions were simply to “make our way” thither, but it looked like it was over 1km, which is a bit daunting when burdened by suitcases and backpacks. We were also not sure that we’d get away with our baggage as it was – probably overweight and possibly oversize. (I emphasise that I’m talking about our luggage, here, but two months of relentless tourism travelling meant that those adjectives also applied to us by this stage.) We had pre-empted problems by hiving off some of the heavier and less relevant items (including my drone) into separate bags for storage whilst Jane contacted the Lizard Island Resort and we learnt a couple of key things: firstly, the flight was with an airline called Hinterland (not East Air as Audley had told us); the second was that there was a transfer possible (which it was clear that Audley had not booked for us), but the nice lady on the other end of the phone was able to fix it.

So we scurried off into the gathering dawn and drove to Cairns, where Avis agreed that I hadn’t trashed their nice Camry and where we had time for a coffee before being collected and taken to Hinterland’s small but comfortable terminal.  I had a slightly tense moment when they weighed my camera bag; we’d been told that there was a 5kg weight limit on hand baggage, but they didn’t seem too fazed by my 11kg of camera and related stuff. I’m not sure what I’d have done if they’d objected.

We were shown upstairs into the lounge where we made idle chitchat with fellow passengers Susan and Michael from Denver, and later with a chap called Harry who was travelling out to Lizard Island to skipper the resort’s fancy fishing yacht. He gave me the tip to sit on the starboard side of the plane if I wanted to take photos of the Reef as we went, which of course I did.  So I sharpened up my elbows in preparation. Our plane turned out to be (yet) another Cessna Caravan, so I knew which seat to head for, from previous experience.

There were some clouds around, but both Jane and I managed some, OK loads of, photos as we flew to the island. Here are some of them.

Lizard Island

The resort is part of the Relais et Chateaux group and so one would expect a lovely environment and great service. One was not disappointed. We were whisked away by buggy to lunch with a view

while our bags were spirited off to our cabin, which shared, with Thala Beach, the distinction of being practically as far away from the bar as was possible. but which made up for that with its view.

After all our schlepping round Australia, I had expected our two-day stay here to be an opportunity, to misquote Br’er Rabbit, to “lie low and do nothin'”. It almost immediately became clear that this, while possible, was not the probable MO of our stay here, as that very afternoon there was a “bat walk”; an excursion to view the island’s colony of flying foxes. Harry the boat skipper had mentioned back in Cairns that there was a research station on the island, part of the National Park and sufficiently distinguished to have hosted no less an eminence than David Attenborough in the past, so a visit there was an attractive option. It’s indicative of the quality of service of the resort that they were able to fix up a way that we could squeeze in a visit to the facility on the morning of our departure. There would also be an opportunity to do some snorkelling. This is something that I had previously set my face against, but I decided to Feel The Fear And Do It Anyway. I’d brought my waterproof camera with me, and I would therefore hope to get some worthwhile underwater shots while not making a complete arse of myself in the snorkelling group.

All of this activity did leave us some time to relax, but come 5pm, it was time to hunt the bats, so we went for a walk. Obviously. Our guide, Lauren, was the resident naturalist for the resort, and thus, as one would expect, was very knowledgeable about all sorts of aspects of the wildlife and environment here, and also some of the history.  We climbed “Chinaman’s Ridge”, which gave us a decent view over Watson’s Bay.

Why is it called Watson’s Bay? I hear you cry. Well, it’s named after Mary Watson, who in 1881 settled in a stone cottage built there by her husband, Robert Watson. About 20 years before, other stone buildings had been erected there by Europeans, Chinese and South Sea Islanders in order to process bêche-de-mer, which is the posh French name for sea cucumbers. Sadly, the location was one that was sacred to the aboriginal tribes who had been dwelling hereabouts for several thousand years, and they eventually took umbrage and spears, and attacked Mrs. Watson and the two Chinamen who worked alongside her. The Chinamen were killed, and Mary Watson fled, but died in the escape attempt; her courage and the dignity she evinced in her journal of the episode has etched this rather distressing (and disrespectful) episode into the public imagination, and the site – now just the ruins of the cottage and visible from Chinaman’s Ridge –

is now listed on the Queensland Heritage Register.

Back to the bats, though. The idea of the walk was to see the colony of fruit bats who hang out (see what I did there?) in mangrove thickets. It’s a small colony, about 200 strong,

of black flying foxes, which were rather unexpectedly at eye level rather than high in the treetops. The mangroves were so thick it was still difficult to get good shots of them though. They were preparing to go out to forage,

but there was other fauna to be seen,

and flora – kapok fruits bursting into seed on some trees and with flowers still on display in others.

After the walk, we had dinner in the restaurant, hanging from the roof of which was a Sun Bird nest, with the female guarding eggs and looking out at the world.

My plans to spend the whole of today, Saturday 5th, doing nothing also failed to materialise. Since we were on Lizard Island, Jane had the idea of going out and looking for lizards. She had another item on her agenda, which was to look for her sunglasses, which she was convinced had fallen off whilst we were looking at the bats. She told the hotel reception about the loss, but they had nothing handed in. So once again, we went for a walk. Obviously.

Actually, we cheated slightly. As we were walking the path towards the airport, a buggy driven by the resort’s Experience Manager, Paul, drew up, and he offered us a lift part way – indicative of the level of service the resort delivers. Paul took us to the track we’d walked the previous day and Jane and I cast about for the exact spot where we’d been watching the bats.  We eventually found it, but there were only footprints; no sign of the sunglasses. We did get some lizard pictures, though – various differently-sized Yellow Spotted (or Argos) Monitor Lizards, with the largest being a couple of metres from head to tail.

We got photos of a couple of other creatures, too.

On the way back to the hotel, we passed a bar called the Marlin Bar.  It is part of the hotel but is open to the public (e.g. those who have arrived by boat and been fishing for the day), and so we felt it our duty to pop in and check it out. Over the bar is a replica of a huge (500kg) Marlin that had been caught at some stage and which, I believe, had been the catalyst for starting the Lizard Island Marlin Challenge, winners of which were listed at the bar. I should point out that all marlin caught are returned to the sea…

It was

a pool bar. Boom, tish.

We headed back to the hotel proper for a final drink, and while we were sitting at the bar we got another dose of the hotel’s excellent service; one of the receptionists came up and handed Jane her sunnies! One of the staff had been out at around midday to watch the bats, had noticed the sunglasses there and picked them up. Back at reception, two plus two were added, the result four was obtained, Jane’s presence (surprising, this) at the bar was noted and the sunglasses handed over, to loud cheers and much laughter. It’s not like they were posh or expensive, but nonetheless Jane was very grateful to all the staff concerned in getting the glasses back to her.

After dinner, we headed back to our cabin,

and so I thought I’d end the day with a photographic cliché, just for you.

We have one more day here, but relaxing during it is not where my head is; I have decided that I will go snorkelling, despite having set my face against ever suffering the faff, salt water and embarrassment that has dogged my previous attempts. So, instead of relaxing, I shall be spending the day psyching myself up for it. Stay tuned to see how it went, eh?

 

 

Atherton Tablelands – Not Rooful

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Thursday 3 October 2024 – Long Post Alert!!!!

Yesterday, 2nd October, marked two months since we left the UK on this fantastic trip; it also marked the time to travel to our penultimate destination – the Atherton Tablelands. This is an area somewhat to the south of Port Douglas, and we had a drive of some 2½ hours to get there. So we bade goodbye to the coast as we passed a reminder of this once sugar cane dominated area – these rail freight carriages, or “bins” as they were called, used to take the cane to Mossman when there was a working sugar mill there.

Although the railway is defunct, there are still many road signs and other indications which give the impression of a working system.

Just before we got to Mossman, we turned left and headed inland – and uphill. It was difficult to find a place to stop, to admire the views that we were presented with back towards the coast; but we eventually found a layby with only a slightly perilous walk along a twisty road with big trucks barrelling down it, back to a viewpoint.

We stopped for coffee at a village called Mount Molloy, which had a hotel which, by the sound of the loud banter coming out of it, could have starred in Crocodile Dundee, but only if the censor had been feeling lenient that day.  A café on the same side of the road had just turned off its coffee machine, and so we crossed over to the “Ahoy Molloy Coffee Ship”.

It billed itself as a “coffee and whole foods store”,

and, indeed had a variety of things for sale around the back.

We asked the exceedingly hippy barista what the chemical symbol meant on the front, and he told us that it was the caffeine molecule. Rough round the edges, but a cool place, actually.

The landscape changed dramatically as we left the rainforests of the Daintree; trees became much sparser

and the grassy spaces were dotted with a multitude of termite mounds;

the dense forests disappeared.

The agriculture changed, too.

Mango, avocado and banana crops could be seen from the road and the surrounding lands were exploited for farming.

Our planned lunch stop was in the town of Atherton, which has given its name to the surrounding countryside. Its name came from one John Atherton, who settled the area and introduced cows in 1879. Interestingly, the landscape once we’d climbed out of Port Douglas was flat, but once we officially arrived in the Tablelands, where one might have inferred flatness from the name, we saw many more rolling hills. We’d been two months in Australia and never visited a fish and chip shop; given that there was a reasonably well-reviewed one in Atherton, our lunch venue was an easy choice.

The fish and chips were very good; and on the walls were some clues as to perhaps why Australia has a similar occurrence of obesity as the UK.

Jane had, as ever, done her research on Things To See On The Way, and it was her work that decided us on travelling via this slightly longer route to get to our destination; Madam Tomtom in our car would have taken us back down the coast via Cairns – slightly shorter, and, as it turned out, probably a lot less interesting. Jane had spotted something called the Curtain Fig Tree; and since individual trees rarely get their own spot on Google Maps, we decided to take a look. The tree has signposts, its own car park and even its own National Park. We didn’t explore the National Park, but took up on the offer of a car parking spot and followed the signs, which led to a boardwalk

from which one could start to get an idea of the scope of what was on show. Which was astonishing.

The area is a sacred place for the Ngadjon-Jii people and an info board explains how this extraordinary scene developed. A fig seed was deposited by a bird in the crown of a tree. It was a strangler fig seed, so it grew roots down to the ground which also reached out, encircled and eventually strangled the host tree. The host tree (now effectively dead) then toppled, and ended up leaning on a neighbouring tree; the fig continued to send roots earthwards, which developed into the curtain one sees today. We’ve seen it compared to the “Tree of Life” in Avatar – actually more like the tree of death for the original host…

Jane had also spotted a “Platypus Viewing Platform”, which was in the pretty village of Yungaburra.

As we searched for a place to park, Jane spotted that there were Stone Curlews on the green – the female presumably incubating eggs in a ground nest, and the male strutting around nearby.

The male, by the way, was another disciple of the Phoebe Waller-Bridge side-eye school.

There was, indeed, a formal platypus viewing area, but looking out from it revealed only a turtle.

As a platypus viewing exercise, it was a turtle disaster.

It was then but a short journey to our accommodation, the Rose Gums Wilderness Retreat. We were slightly amused, as we drove towards it, that we were traversing farmland, but once we’d arrived and checked in to our (very substantial) cabin,

it was clear that we were in forestland once again. As darkness fell, Jane stood on the balcony with a torch [ in the rain, I may add – Ed ], seeking out wildlife.  She’s like that. Her persistence resulted in the sighting of a snake,

a (reasonably sizeable) common brown tree snake, which came down off our roof and was looking around on the ground outside for a snack of some kind.

Rose Gums doesn’t have a restaurant, and we’d prepared by buying all kinds of good food in Port Douglas on our way here. But we ended up taking gin and peanuts as our evening meal. Well, we’ll be back in the UK soon and having to go back to a healthy diet; we had some gin left over from our Port Douglas stay, and You Can’t Take It With You, You Know.

That was last night. Today was our time here, and we were booked on a full day “Nature Tour”, with a guide all to ourselves.  Accordingly, at 8.30am, along came the very energetic, up-beat and knowledgeable James

to whisk us off to, well, whatever we agreed would be a good place to be whisked off to. We gave him the task of finding us a cassowary and a tree kangaroo, and, to his credit, he didn’t blench, but instead told us he’d see what he could find for us.

First, though, we took photographic advantage of two features of the Rose Gums retreat: a feeding of rainbow lorikeets

and a hide from which one could see musky-rat kangaroos, or possibly musky rat-kangaroos (the sign was ambiguous) which are the smallest and the most primitive of the quokkapadewallaroo family. Rather than hop they scurry very rapidly which made things rather difficult for your photographer…

Interestingly, the hide enabled photography of some other interlopers, too; an emerald dove and a peaceful dove, both very prettily coloured.

It was good to have James on hand, since he could identify these birds. He is an inveterate birder, which enabled some great photos for us – see later.

Our first stop was Petersen Creek, somewhat upstream from where we’d failed to see any platypuses yesterday. Today?

There were at least two of them – interestingly much smaller than the ones we’d seen in Tasmania. On the same stretch of water, we saw a Pacific  Black Duck

and, in the surrounding woods, an arrangement which looks like a very comfy hotel room for a possum.

James then took us to see a nearby colony of spectacled flying foxes

and then walked us along the Peterson Creek walking trail in search of cassowaries and tree roos.  No luck with them, but he did find us some possums: the bum of a sleeping coppery brush-tailed possum

and a very cute pair of green ring-tailed possums,

who looked a bit uncertain as to whether we were good news or not.

After a coffee stop, we headed out to Mount Hypipamee through the typical Atherton Tablelands countryside

to a secret location, unvisited by the public and known only to several hundred birders; this was to be our final chance to see a cassowary.  It involved looking for a specific entry to a track through a type of forest called mabi forest“, mabi, being the indigenous name for the (annoyingly elusive) Lumholz Tree Kangaroo. Before entering it, James sprayed our shoes with anti-leech spray and warned us to be very careful of stinging tree leaves (the upper and somewhat moth-eaten ones in this photo)

brushing against which could prove anything from very painful – with the pain lasting for months – to, erm, fatal. It’s a member of the nettle family, with the neurotoxin sting being delivered by very fine hairs on the leaves and the fruit. Apparently, the fruit is edible once you remove the hairs, but I’m buggered if I’m prepared to try that out. Its aboriginal name is gimpie gimpie which translates as “ouch ouch” i.e. a big ouch. The things I go through to bring you this stuff, eh?

Did we see a cassowary? Did we see a tree kangaroo?

Nope.

Were we disappointed? Absolutely not. Birder Lore had led us to the bower of a bower bird.

As luck would have it, its owner was (a) in the vicinity, and (b) stayed still long enough for even me to get a decent picture of it.

A Golden Bower Bird – a rare species which figures high on the twitchers’ list, apparently. This is a young adult male, yet to achieve his full golden-ness of plumage.

There was much interesting tree bark:

and, to relieve the focus on fauna and flora, James also took us to see the crater lake of the local volcano, which was 50 metres deep and very impressive.

The route to our next stop took us past some more lovely Atherton Tablelands scenery

and into a real old Australian Pub called, quite accurately, The Big Pub, in Malanda,

where we had a very agreeable lunch (and possibly my last-ever taste of Castlemaine XXXX). Afterwards we went to the Malanda Falls National Park,

where we could see saw-shelled terrapins,

Wompoo Fruit-Doves,

and a Boyd’s Forest Dragon,

which was a great source of relief to James, who didn’t want Aaron to be the only one to show us one of these delightful creatures.

By this stage we were approaching the end of our tour, but we had one more moment of delight in wait for us as we headed back to our accommodation: a bird we’d seen as we departed the retreat but had failed to photograph, because it buggered off as soon as we hove into view. We saw it again on our return (or another one of the same type) and for some reason this time it stayed put.

It’s a Pheasant Coucal – this one a young adult male, apparently, and a very handsome chap he is, too. Apparently it’s rare for them to pose like this; James was so excited that he even wanted me to send him this photo, which I have done.

Aaand…that was it for the tour; no cassowary, no tree kangaroo, but we had a great time anyway, with a great guide, lovely scenery and some new wildlife to photograph (oh, and look at too, I suppose). So we bade goodbye to James, and, since the Rose Gums retreat doesn’t actually offer any internet to its cabins (it’s a Retreat, OK?) instead of catching up on Facebook we went for a short walk to find out more about the Rose Gums that give the place its name.  These are not floral versions of wine gums, they are

gum trees. Having hacked down a track, we thought that the above tree was the Giant Rose Gum that we’d read about in the information in our cabin; but we were wrong. This (the one on the left below) was.

It’s immense. You can’t really see that from the photo, even if I include someone for scale

or if I show you what the crown looks like,

but take it from me, it’s a big’un. OK, it’s a gum tree, and, yes, a very old one (estimated to be 600 years old). But why Rose? Jane took a revealing picture at the bole of the tree

which shows that the wood is of a definitely pinkish colour.

To end the day, Jane did her “look for wildlife in the dark and the rain” bit again, and spotted

a bandicoot! We’re honestly not sure what actual species of bandicoot it is, but it is the first of these marsupials we’ve seen (outside a stuffed example in a display case). That we’ve not seen one before is not really a surprise, since they’re strictly nocturnal and we’re not.

We have one more place to visit on this trip, and, if all goes according to plan, we’ll get there tomorrow. It should offer us a final chance to relax before we head back to the gloomy wet and cold of an English autumn, but maybe there will be some decent photos to share. Keep watching these pages to find out, OK?

North! to Al.. Belrose

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Saturday 21 September – Today marked a change in pattern of our holiday travels, as we left our hotel room so that we could stay with friends for a few days, first in the Sydney environs, before then moving on to Brisbane.  But I had a photo project first, which meant going out before breakfast so I could catch the morning light. I suppose the photo I was after is something of a cliché, but my first attempt, from yesterday’s wanderings, was less than satisfactory

because the light was all wrong, and if I’m going to perpetrate a cliché, I might as well do it properly.  In the morning light, the scene looks much better to my eyes.

The journey to get to the photo location was pleasant – the temperature was lovely and the sun was shining. Because it was reasonably early, the sun was low and I found myself at one point casting no fewer than three shadows – one behind me from the real sun and two others from reflections from buildings in Sydney’s CBD.

The lovely light gave me a second chance to capture some scenes I‘d tried yesterday, but which looked better today,

as well as one that I hadn’t.

My vantage point for the Opera House shot was also a good one to construct a panorama of the city

which looks a bit skinny on the web page, but I think might be a good candidate for the wall at home.

After this very satisfactory start (and the usual rather chaotic breakfast at the Intercontinental), we checked out and headed for Circular Quay, and caught the 11 o’clock ferry to Mosman. Jane prowled the decks checking out the view on the 20-minute journey across the water.

At Mosman Bay, we met our friends Lorraine and Paul, with whom we would be staying for the next couple of days. They live in Belrose, a northern suburb of Sydney, and under normal crcumstances it would have been more logical to connect at Manly; but this weekend was the Manly Jazz Festival, rendering parking and other such practicalities out of the question, so Mosman Bay (lower circle below) it was.

The plan for the day was to get towards North Head and stroll down into Manly to see what entertainment the Jazz Festival might offer, so Paul found a suitable parking spot, at North Head Sanctuary, where there was immediately a fantastic view back towards the city.

This photo really demonstrates the popularity of boats around the harbour – with an environment like Sydney Harbour and the sort of weather we were enjoying, then why wouldn’t you?

Of course, being at North Head, we could see across to South Head, and the landmarks we’d passed yesterday – the Hornby Lighthouse

and the Macquarie Lighthouse.

You can just about make out the radar mast in front of the signal station.

North Head clearly had an important military role to play in days past, possibly fuelled by fears at one stage of Japanese aggression. In an enlightened move, the military area has been turned into National Park rather than being sold for development. It features a number of military installations, some of which are used as educational installations, such as a gun emplacement, which has information boards describing how it was used.

Other military buildings are now used as a quarantine station, down by the shore, and there were barracks

parts of which are now used as an entertainment venue

and parts of which are now home to small businesses.

There are also reminders about Australia’s involvement in so many theatres of war.

The path back to Manly led through bush

and past some wildlife, such as this Burton’s legless lizard

and a pair of brush turkeys, which are common enough to be a nuisance to the locals but which were new to our eyes.

They’re called brush turkeys (not bush turkeys) for a reason.

When we saw Manly Beach on the descent (the leftmost beach in the photo below), it was clear that smoke we’d seen earlier was actually quite a significant bush fire.

As we headed down towards Shelly Beach, the path continued along the cliff tops overlooking these beaches, and there was a sombre message among the lovely views.

Shelly Beach presented a rather dissonant juxtaposition:

people having fun on the beach in the foreground whilst a bush fire raged in the background. (We learned later that it was a controlled burn that went somewhat out of control, but no-one was injured.)

On the walk past Shelly Beach, there’s an interesting little art installation built into the rocks,

and then we reached Manly, where the market had been displaced to beachside

by the clearly very popular Manly Jazz Festival.

Manly was very crowded

so (having queued for quite a while to get some splendid ice cream at Gelato Messina) we found a taxi to take us back to the car and headed over to Lorraine and Paul’s house in Belrose for the evening.

Sunday 22 September 2024.

The next day was a chance for us to catch up with more friends who lived in the area – something of a “small world” story.  Two years ago we were exploring Canada on a major trip, one segment of which was spent based in Churchill, on the Hudson Bay, looking for polar bears. Whilst there, we met two delightful Australian ladies, Vicki and Kris, who were pretty much at the start of a fantastically impressive world tour over the space of a whole year. It turned out that they live in Mona Vale, which is near to Belrose and so we arranged to meet them to catch up with them. Vicki picked us up, and took us for a tour of the local beaches.

and Palm Beach proper, where I got a nice close-up of a kookaburra.

Whilst we were with Vicki and Kris, we were visited by a flock of rainbow lorikeets, which are beautifully coloured and really quite noisy.

Kris cooked a wonderful lunch for us and their friends Rosie and Astley, who were great company and whose extensive travel history enlarged our already-daunting list of possible travel destinations before Vicki took us back to Belrose where we could reflect on a lovely occasion. It’s quite common to agree to keep in contact with people met on holiday whilst travelling, but actually rare to find that the connection is deep and enduring. We had met Vicki and Kris on the UK leg of their world trip, and it was clear that they were grand people to stay in touch with; that it was so close to Belrose and such a good opportunity to meet again was a large slice of luck; similar to the slice of luck that enabled us to get back in touch with Sharon and David when we were in Melbourne*.

We have one more day staying in Belrose with Lorraine and Paul.  I wonder what plan they’ve hatched for our final day in the Sydney area?

 

* I’m embarrassed to find out that I didn’t write this day up; it was filled with Melbourne murals and a lovely lunch with David and Sharon, whom we met on a walking holiday in Slovenia back in 2016 and formed a connection similar to the one which kept us in touch with Vicki and Kris. With apologies to them, I will rectify this omission as soon as our schedule permits.