Hinchinbrook Island. After a year of travelling around Australia, two British backpackers said that if they could only return to one place, then this would be their choice. Ever since
it has been a place I have wanted to see. Fifteen years later it is time to head north. The harness of my Macpac had rotted and the Thorsborne Trail disappeared from my sights. Converted to the comforts bestowed by the immense stowage capacity of a kayak, no 300g orange was going to break my back. This venture to the
tropics would be Hinchinbrook luxury class.
This was one seriously slow cruise. We planned to saunter up Hinchinbrook
over 5 days then onto Goold, Coombe and Dunk Islands. Travelling over 2000Km to get to the start at Lucinda set the theme of the 'no stress' paddle. Any one feeling pressured could opt out with a hand up and they would be given all the time and space they needed. Sure you can paddle Hinchinbrook Island in 3 days, but
why would you ?
Getting there gave an impression of the scale of mining operations. As we drove in a controlled cortege, oncoming cars, semi and b-doubles were pulled well off the road - whatever was in the lead had to be big. Well make that massive. It was a
mining cat truck (less the tyres) and it took the entire road. Arriving in Sarina first, Mark had tabs on it having to turn left in the centre of town. This was morning tea spectacle in the making as surely there was going to be some collateral damage.
Parking the car on the opposite side of the road we armed ourselves with our coffee flask and muesli slice then took up a strategic position in the centre of the town median strip and waited. We left disappointed - this driver must have done it
before.
2000Km is a long drive and while it can be compressed into two days, chopping it into smaller segments gives you a chance to see some of the places hiding amongst endless miles of sugar cane. We never made it to the spectacular Wallaman Falls as the last 10Km of unsealed road was too rough. The car would not have been up to it, in fact it was not up to much according to the belligerent goose that stood its ground in the middle of the road and charged as if to peck a hole in the radiator. The car wasn't even scary to Brahman calves which chased us back down the road. In some ways I was relieved not to have encounterd a cassorwary given
the attitude of so called domesticated animals.
Returning to Ingham we could only find the one caravan park. I gladly accepted a possie right down the back as far away from the road as possible. The night before it had sounded like the trucks were passing through the tent in the caravan park we had stayed at in Rockhampton. The cane harvest was in full swing and the
park operator assured us that the last train would be around 8:30PM. In the dead of the night all hell broke loose, there was an almighty roar, the ground rumbled. Flight and fight were foiled by the tent zips while a goods train on the main trunk line passed a mere 20 feet from the perimeter fence and scared more than sleep out of us.
In Ingham the Tyto Wetlands Information Centre is worth a visit.
The centre displays information about the local birdlife encouraged by the restoration of the remaining wetlands which had not succumbed to cane plantation. The area of land under reclamation takes a couple of hours to wander through and it looks like much is still at the stage of removal of pests such as african tulip and particular grasses. Seems like this is the place for twitchers to twitter as the diversity of birdlife is
impressive. There are even birds for twots like us to spot - from magpie geese, spoonbills, ducks, swamp hens around the waters edge to gorgeous finches in the rushes. We had a bonus snake cross our path for added interest. When the sun sets finding your way back may lead you up a few dark alleys. Now the owls come out
and one just about took Mark's head as a suitable landing post while we were standing on a walkway. We were privileged to an eyeful of owl in the carlights as we left the car park.
Back in town you could not miss the Nissan towing the six kayaks, all we had to do was find the occupants. I really should think twice about sticking my head in the pub asking if anyone had seen four guys asking for a meal. We found the rest of the crew in the local pizzeria where we all had a meal that provided energy to
burn. The following day was filling the kayaks to capacity before doing the car shuffle. The caravan park at Mission Beach was not interested in having the 4WD and trailer, instead Ray was directed to a local builder who charged a small fee to have it
left down the back of his yard out of sight. On our return we spent a night in the caravan park and it became obvious as to why the 4WD and trailer were not welcome.
Mission Beach is a beautiful place. It is so lovely that it is surprising that it has not been overrun by apartment blocks. Maybe the cyclone threat helps keep the balance. On the way back we took a walk along the trail from the lookout with a
magnificent view over Hinchinbrook. While the landscape is dramatic, on the lowland almost every square inch seems to be planted out in sugar cane. The industry and its mills dominate the landscape. The amount of machinery required during the harvest is immense and the logistics required to feed the mill running 24/7 using a network of cane trains must be impressive.
The weather remained fine, the wind light and balmy. It was nearing full moon and the 3m night tide was still racing under the old Lucinda jetty as people threw lines baited with fresh
prawns to catch large grunters. The camp ground was over run with grey nomads of the fishing type. They were quick to say that there were plenty of big (ie 5 metre) crocs up the passage but they usually made themselves scarce, it was the 3 metre ones that tended to hang around. Terrific. Here we are plopping around in an area inhabited by fearless crocs. It provided fertile fodder for vivisection a la croc in my dreams.
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