59~Peaceful Port Douglas

I bid farewell to the South of Australia and left Melbourne for the infamous Cairns. I had already decide that Cairns may not be for me and would move on from there. 

After a solo night in Cairns, I was heading the next day to Port Douglas which I heard was a quieter part in this area. I would stay at 'Dougie's', a hostel out of town that was right near the beach and situated in the jungle. Turns out it was a great call on many fronts and I fell in love with the sleepy town. I found two great yoga studios, a picnic spot, a lovely hostel where I met some really amazing people and could cook my own food, a great spot to read and be alone. Utterly peaceful. The weather was far too hot to beach it and the ocean was un-swimmable because of the jellyfish (apart from the enclosure they provide but I was still not getting in). The hostel gave me a bike for the week as opposed to having to hire it daily and I made a little life here. I booked a couple days to head up to Cape Tribulation and to immerse myself in the promise of the deeper solitude of the rainforest there, returning to 'Dougie's' for my last 3 days in Australia. This was my most frequented spot:

 I managed to write all my Christmas cards, perspiring in the process and getting a little browner.

I enjoyed this view when I occasionally put down the teenage fiction I was devouring. Set in Australia, recommended by the Flying Kiwi guide, I was unstoppable. I think I was on book 7 of 'Tomorrow: When the War Began'.

I did the walk up the hill to look out point each day because the view was quite spectacular.

I met a Dutchie, Hans, who immediately captured my heart. He was kind, strong, interesting and I felt an instant connection with him. Kindly, he took me and a German pal to Mossman Gorge where we enjoyed a walk and swim in the cool waters. Hans was nearing the end of 2 months of bar work here and was attempting to see the sights that had escaped him because of his working schedule. I was quite pleased to share a bike ride into town and show him the lookout point. I took him to an even better spot that no one seemed to know about, a little lighthouse that overlooked the bay on the opposite side. I had spent many hours here, alone, drinking in the view and the tranquility. We had a bit of a magical afternoon. Biking side by side, pushing our bikes up the hill and riding down like kids. Although, I had to walk the last part, terrified my shoddy brakes would fail and I would lose my teeth. Hans waited for me at the bottom, he was flushed and said he almost lost control. We shared food in the communal kitchen and on his last morning we sat and had our breakfast together. I do love the Dutch and was looking forward to seeing my best Dutchie, Eve!

I headed to Cape Tribulation for the weekend. I was part of a tour and we went on a cruise for crocodile spotting. My foot is just to show I was there. I did see a crocodile but failed to capture it on camera!

It really seems that most travellers here are drinkers and recovering from hangovers, using their bus time to recuperate. As opposed to sweating it out and snoozing in the quieter seats at the back, I opted for sitting up front with the guide. The guide, despite the disinterest of most passengers, spurt forth a monologue, detailed facts about the land around, interrupted only by my odd question. I have to say he totally did not disappoint- a fountain of knowledge presented in Steve Irwin-esque manner.

He explained the fauna on a jungle walk, was thrilled when we came across fresh cassowary droppings (pretending to touch and eat the faeces in order to assess the freshness and therefore how near the creature may be) and enthusiastically examined a huge spider in it's web. I can understand this frenzied approach to exploring the nature here; it is as if the forest has been pumped full of steroids, or had a dose of something 'Little Shop of Horrors' style!

I had two nights in Cape Tribulation, a very peaceful hostel that is made up of bungalows situated within the Daintree National Park and Wet Tropics World Heritage area. I kept myself to myself initially, enjoying a walk along the deserted beaches, eating alone and reading on the beach.

I had heard from various people and discussed with Hans about a challenging hike in the area but as difficult as it sounded, I was determined to do it. It was only 5km but apparently the steep climb and elevated heights of 680 metres made it difficult hiking conditions. The recommendation was not to go it alone; the hostel manager had found another girl who was interested and was trying to hook me up with her. I kind of wanted to tramp it myself, but at the same time the wildlife of Australia freaked me out, I trusted Hans when he said it was tough and after all he is a tough Dutchie... I was told to take a lot of water and set off by 6am to escape the midday heat. I had an early night and decided I would do the trek regardless if I was alone or not. I crossed paths with a girl in the morning and we realised we were the two hikers. No one else around at 5:30am. She was a Swiss girl, young and very sweet. Turns out that we were both glad to have a friend. It was super challenging and I have never sweated in the way I did during the ascent. At one point we both wondered if it would ever end, my legs shook and it seemed relentless! The beautiful Daintree coastline, being in the clouds and resting with our snacks made it all worth it.

 As we descended, we encountered other groups just starting out. Some desperate to know how much further. We could not lie- they already appeared to be struggling, had little water and were perhaps a little naive in their approach to this challenge. I was glad we had acted upon the advice and set out early with plenty of water. In the afternoon I went to a 'Swimming Hole' with a British girl I had got chatting to, the instructions were clear: head upstream and the safe area for swimming would be clear because of the swing ropes, downstream was to be avoided as this is where the local crocodiles liked to chill out. The water felt deliciously cool in these tropical parts, we were alone and the dappled reflections of the rippling waters in the late afternoon sun on the trunk of a huge tree made this day and this place utterly magical.

The following morning I headed for snorkelling in the Great Barrier Reef. I have no photos that show the turtle I swam with, the corals, the shark and all the sea life that amazed. This photo does show the peak of Mount Sorrow, pointed out by the guides as we sailed out to the reef.

The bus ride back to Port Douglas was full of hungover party animals, I sat up front once again and heard some amazing stories, getting all the best views and enjoyed my second trip to Mossman Gorge. 

Mossman Gorge differed this time; we had a look at some aboriginal artefacts and the heavens opened. Swimming in the rain was pretty lovely and I think it helped those still in the realms of their hangovers.

My last days in Port Douglas were just perfect. I had a friend to share some yoga with (she had been long ago and now says her interest in yoga has been rekindled- very cool!), a full moon, a lovely moment with Hans (who made me feel like Thumbelian in his huge, warm and meaningful embrace), biking around, writing the last of my Christmas cards, hitting the Sunday Market.

Christmas Carols could be heard from the church, mangoes were in abundance, as was jewellery and talk of the storm the night before. Rain had thundered down, bats and birds hysterical in the dusk and full moon- I had biked to get food in town and was challenged by the wind and eeriness of the night as I headed back to the hostel, narrowly missing the downpour. A farmer/redneck type spoke about the benefits of the coconut to me. I had to confess, I LOVE the coconut; smothering myself in it head to toe, cooking with it, eating it and using it for other magical things too- so he was preaching to the converted.

I love coconut so much, but death by coconut is pushing it. Where I sat each day reading, contemplating, and now post market eating my coconut salad, a huge, heavy palm branch crashed down. Inches from a man sat in quiet contemplation. Hmmmm.

I had one last stop. A favourite coffee place to read and write.

So I left pretty Port; I had felt at peace here and had a happy little home. I had seen the Greatness of the Barrier Reef and had been blown away by Australia's nature... Next stop, short flight to Sydney. A kip in the airport and a flight to Singapore and onward to Vietnam. Good bye, Australia. It was short and I did my best (in a leisurely way ;-)) to traverse some of your land. You are beautiful, spirited and have shown me the curves of our earth with your endless skies. Next time I will head inland; I want to see the kangaroos silhouetted in a fiery sunset from a dusty desert road.

But for now, the view from the plane of the barrier reef and the lands below will do just nicely. I breathe in the peace, remembering my favourite spot I found and prepare myself for Hanoi, Vietnam. I narrowly missed being whacked by a palm branch. I had been lucky. I hear the traffic in Hanoi is frightening and getting whacked by a motorbike might be more likely. Hans warns me it is quite something; I appreciate his honesty and his helpful descriptions. I feel a little prepared and even preempted the trauma of hassle with an airport pick up from my hostel. So I really suck up the final memories of such a peaceful, easy place. Vietnam, here I come!