We have now started south again for the final leg of the Cape and then home. But let me retrack a bit first.
After departing Weipa, we headed north, past the Andoom Mine (Rio Tinto) and onto the little community of Mapoon. Aboriginal owned and run this little township was a picture to behold. Flowerbeds at either entrance, little rubbish and a very colourful Café. The only downside was the number of dogs freely roaming the streets – in packs! After picking up our Park Pass to Cullen Point and a nice coffee, we were on our way out to Old Mapoon. Old Mapoon is known as the site of first contact between Europeans and Aboriginals of Australia. A Dutchman Janzoon, in 1606 had two encounters; the first friendly enough, the second not so friendly. After navigating and mapping along the east Carpentaria coastline, he decided he didn’t want to know much more about the place. Obviously, he couldn’t recognise Bauxite or didn’t understand its uses, else he may have staked a claim.
Captain James Cook in 1770, made note in his journal that although he claimed Australia as we know it today, for Briton, he was aware the Dutch (and Spanish: Torres) had been here previously and maybe they had first claim on the land. Needless to say, the British Navy didn’t like that thought and edited it from the journal.
Later in Mapoon’s history, the missionaries came and tried to save the native souls, bringing in many islanders, and other tribes from surrounding areas. It was also the time of the ‘stolen generation’ with many displaced children being taken from their families.
Old Mapoon was then ‘relocated’ to near Barmaga (on the Tip) in 1963, after the Queensland government and Comalco, (forerunner to Rio Tinto) signed a document. (Not sure on the politics on that one)! Several years later some of the original owners of Mapoon went back and claimed their place in the world. So today we have both – Mapoon and New Mapoon.
Now Cullen Point was an interesting place, sitting at the mouth of the Wenlock and Ducie Rivers (East side) and Gulf of Carpentaria (West side). Our camp site had waterfront views over the two rivers and gulf. Thank goodness we were sitting out on the tip as a gentle breeze blew most of the time cooling our 30C day. The site was white/grey sand, and reflecting from the ground made it extremely warm. Our traveller fellow, under instruction from hubby made his way around to his sight, but unfortunately became bogged in the sand. Never fear! The winch was swung into action as the two males were now in their element. No 4WD adventure is complete unless you get to use your winch – apparently!
Following a few tense and harrowing moments for the onlookers, all was back to the way it should be. Winch safely tucked away hopefully not to be used again on the trip. It was now time for the boys to unload the boat and test their ability at the angling side of things here. Weipa had proved slightly successful, maybe the gulf and two rivers would be more fruitful. After travelling in and out of channels and rivers only a handful of Spanish Mackerel could be caught. On return to shore, they thought it a good idea to try their hand at ‘shark fishing’. Not a very bright idea, I thought, as many sharks inhabit these areas. Our neighbours, trying their hand at Fly fishing, were being chewed off, almost every cast. Hubby did catch one shark (you could see the fins), but it broke the line. To encourage the sharks closer, they enticed it with the Mackerel, caught earlier. Well it worked! In comes a shark, no further than 6’ from the shoreline. Swimming merrily about, devouring all the dead fish caught. All 3 fins of him! With the show over, it was time to make for home. Boat reloaded and a quick look for turtle eggs. (Our neighbours were walking the beach the previous night and saw two turtles). We found no sign of turtles, but the ‘logs’ on the beach opposite appeared to move greatly! Once again up here, fabulous beaches but also deadly; shark, croc, stingers.
Next morning the breeze had turned into a moderate wind and time to move out if we didn’t want to be sandblasted. Back into Mapoon, (one more coffee) through Weipa (one last time) and onto York Dam for the night. A wonderful place beside a dam, specially put in for tourists from the York Station (a few kms further down the track). A ramshackle toilet (door off) but beautiful blue water in the dam. If adventurous enough you could swim.
Next morning, we were seriously going to the ‘Tip’. No more detours, no more ‘let’s look at this’… to the TIP! We were now conscious of time, and the lack of it, if we were to be home late August.
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| One of our beautiful sunsets |
Out of York Dam, we made a short-cut through Batavia Downs (the original Station encompassing Weipa). We travelled quickly as the dirt road was well pressed with few corrugations. Turning onto the Peninsula Development Road (Cape) and we faced a whole other road. Rough, corrugations and dust! A few more kms up the road and we spot the Moreton Telegraph Station. Time for reprieve and to see the old station and what it has to offer. Yes, more coffee but also some great paraphernalia of the overland telegraph from Cairns to the Tip. We also spotted a poster of the Steve Irwin Habitat for the Wild. An area reserved for wildlife between the Wenlock and Ducie rivers which used to be the Bertiehugh Station. They have researchers from around the world come to work out here. Who knew?
We by-passed Bramwell Station and continued on the PDR (Peninsula Development Road).
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| Fruit Bat Falls - the closest we came to the OTR (Old Telegraph Road) |
A pleasant camp overnight then it was onto the ferry. OMG!
The ferryman was extremely pleasant. Hubby had already been down the night before to check out the approach and exit from the ferry. A friend our ours a few years back bent/broke his towbar getting on/off this ferry. I was not looking forward to this. 9 minutesfor them to cross we were finally on the last leg of our journey.
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| Jardine River Ferry |
Before arriving to find our camp site, (yes, I know) we detoured to the WW2 Aircraft monument and crash-site. Then onto the Seisa Airport (for a look) and over the airfield to see some more old relic plane crash sites and fuel dump.
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| WW2 Airplane crash |
With no fish and no incidents with crocs, it was back to camp to enjoy happy-hour and the sunset. Tomorrow “THE TIP”!
The road to the tip was also unexpected as we found our way through rain forest and hills, over water crossings before finally parking below a huge pile of sandstone rocks. These rocks in the form of hills formed our walking path out to the edge of the Torres Strait and the final assault on the ‘Tip’. As per our entire journey we were buffeted by wind as we clung tightly to the sign that says “you have reached the most northernmost point on the Australian continent”. It was a strange emotion I felt holding this pole. I was relieved that I had accomplished what I set out to do, but I also felt let-down somehow. Is this all it was? Why was I so driven to be here? I worked out it was the fear of missing out. When my previous trip had been so disastrous, I felt everyone else had seen something I hadn’t and I’d missed out. I’d been disappointed and dejected for months after this, until they returned with tales of their adventures. Now it was my turn and I truly believed the journey had been the important part. The destination was just the cream on top.
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| We made it! |
Our journey to the Tip was completed but we were to experience more culture of the top-end when we booked a trip to the three islands in Torres Strait. Friday island where a Japanese man had made his home for the past 26 years. He was also a pearl dealer, who cultivated his own pearls after buying out a lease from a previous pearl famer. His place was in the true Japanese style, with raked sand in the garden beds and many Japanese icons around the place. A very peaceful place as he had the whole island to himself (and the 5 Japanese back-packers for five months of the year, helping in his small shop and around the island). Once a week he would make the trip over to Thursday Island to do his shopping, and once a year he would go back to Japan to sell his wares and see his 92 year old mother.
Next on the boat trip was Thursday Island. Being a Sunday most of the shops were closed, therefore after a quick taxi ride around the island and a very informative chat from Dirk (our driver), we headed for the pub. Not any old Pub, but the ‘most northernly in Australia’ pub!
What we did see of Thursday Island was beautiful. The water a simmering turquoise and white sand made for a spectacular view from the old fort atop the hill. Pity about all the sharks, crocs and other nasties.
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| Friday Island - pearl farm |
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| Thursday Island bus shelter |
The cemetery was very interesting too, as the TI people have what the call an ‘unveiling day’. After the burial, the family save their money for a granite or marble headstone, with a small history of the person engraved on it along with their name. By the time the headstone is completed and sent back to TI, the family put on a big celebration and unveil the headstone. No one is to see the headstone before the unveiling.
There were also many Japanese headstones in one section. This was due to the influx of enforced labour of pearl divers in the early 1900’s. The graves had been in disrepair for some time and only now are being restored to their previous standard.
The final island for the day was Horn Island. Horn Island was home to many servicemen and women of the period of WW2. There is a great museum on the island of all sorts of interesting documentation and pictures from this time, including from the Japanese perspective. Some photos quite evocative and emotionally disturbing.
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| The picture says it all! How sad. |
By now all our bodies and minds were beginning to wain and were looking forward to our boat trip home. But not before some of the people on the trip decided they needed to stock up on a ‘slab’ or two! Their reasoning – cheaper here in TI, than in Seisa.
Although the boat trip home was a bit rough, it was very similar to the conditions experienced at times on our own Gippsland Lakes. Because the Great Barrier Reef surrounds this place, the waves are mostly choppy and not large. We arrived home safely and were now ready to start the trek southward.
With a sense of sadness in our hearts, the car now headed south. We made good time down the PDR with all roadhouses being serviced with our money; either going up or coming back. Musgrave doubly so as we camped and ate out, up and down the track. The final assault for our Cape York adventure was to turn off at Laura toward Battle Camp Station. The road took us 4WD past the outskirts of Lakefield NP. A few water crossings, up and down the Great Divide and we were now close to Cooktown. A minor detour out to Hopevale; a lovely community set amongst rainforest and green grassy paddock, before we arrived at our destination for the evening.
Cooktown was very different to what I had imagined. In my mind it would be a large community. Instead it was quite small with a few hotels, small shopping strip and one IGA supermarket. It also contained much memorabilia of Capt. James Cook and his exploits in fixing the ship Endeavour. The museum, set in an old convent, was very well set-up with artefacts displayed from by-gone eras of gold mining, the township and the convent days. James Cook also received a mention, anchor and all!
A quick look to survey the countryside and ocean, from the top of the Grassy Hill, after being nearly blown away, we then scooted out to the Botanical Garden. Checking out the small shopping precinct, fellow lady traveller spent a few dollars on a pretty iridescent necklace, before we all headed to the local establishment for a not-so-quite ale. (The music on the jukebox was exceptionally load).
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| Cooktown lighthouse |
After consultation with our travelling troupe (the other two), we decided to leave our Cooktown camp late afternoon, to head down the track to a little place called ‘The Lion’s Den’. The Lion’s Den is just off the main road from Lakeland to Cooktown, but it is also the start and end of the road for us to be able to attempt the infamous, ‘Bloomfield Track’.
Many people we met gave us conflicting information on the track conditions. Was it suitable for caravans? Yes, no, maybe came the responses. Our fellow female traveller resorted to the information pack and read “it has 32 kms of gravel, corrugated and steep slopes. 4WD only, with several water crossings.” (All okay so far. We were feeling just a tiny bit smug with our other 4WD exploits). But the thing that swung the vote was “inclines and descents of up 31% in places”. This statement became our deal breaker for taking any vans past Lion’s Den.
The trip over the Bloomfield lived up to its reputation. Yes, on the really steep parts there is concrete to help you not slip. But they forget to tell you about the right-hand corners on the 30% incline and the rough washouts when you meet another vehicle. Or maybe the overhanging trees that would wipe out your air-conditioner on the van. The risk was certainly not worth the angst. We had certainly made the right decision.
On entry to the other side we found civilization at Cape Tribulation. (Another Capt. Cook historical place, but also a pretty beach with coconut palms). A tour down the road, we checked out Cow Bay and the Daintree Rainforest but the elusive (or imaginary) cassowary were not to be spotted.
We had friends in the Daintree area and finding some phone coverage were able to make our way to their hideaway in the rainforest. A pleasant hour was passed in conversation with these two before showing us their ‘slice of heaven’. 3.5 hectares of rainforest with ferns plentiful and the vanilla beans (of which these two are famous for). Unfortunately, the beans had finished for the season with only the empty vines hanging at present.
It was now 3:30pm and we needed to get back on the track if we were to make home before dark. The drive back was uneventful. We even made better time back than coming over. Funny that!
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| Friends in the Rainforest |
One last diversion on the track was just before Wugal Wugal (another well-kept Aboriginal community), where we went into see the Bloomfield Falls; a towering mountain of freshwater flowing over granite rocks. A crocodile was sunny himself on the other side of some rocks. So even though the water looked inviting, I thought I might decline the invitation.
We finally made it back into camp by 6:00pm, just before dark. The only thing left to do now was… have a drink and meal at the legendary Lion’s Den. One very iconic Australian hotel. And being a Saturday night there was music as well. All is good with the world from this vantage point.
Well we have finished our exploits in the FNQ. We caught up with our son in Cairns and have made it into Townsville to spend some time with my brother before the final assault on heading home. We may stop and say hello to a few other friends up this way, but more than likely the hubby will want to push for the home town lights.
This will be the last chapter in the blog for this time. Until next time, I will sign off wishing you all safe travels and happy memories.
