Well we have had a busy (and sadly now cheap) past few days. After leaving the aptly named Sanctuary hotel in the Mission Beach rain forest, where we spent an enjoyable few days reading and listening to the sounds of the jungle (couldn’t do much else as while we were there they received 300mm of rain in three days!), we moved northwards to Port Douglas. This is one of the few places in Australia where I have been before, and it was just as beautiful as I remember. It is a lovely little town which acts as the gateway to the Daintree Rain-forest (one of the last remaining rain-forests in Australia) and also for the outer Great Barrier Reef. It is an upmarket resort with the likes of Bill Clinton and Keifer Sutherland being regular visitors. For backpackers, though there is still plenty to do. The thing that every visitor must do when they come here, is visit the Mossman River Gorge located in the Daintree Rain-forest. It is this beautiful river that has carved its way through the jungle leaving huge boulders scattered all along the sea bed. It is safe to have a swim and marvel at the cool water and stunning scenery that surrounds you, in a place that could have been carved out of the same mold as Eden. It really is that great. And if you are a silly 19 year old, you can climb the rocks and jump into the place where the water squeezes between two rocks in a rapid, and giggle manically as it propels you down the river. After going there once (where Mark didn’t actually go in) we decided to go back the next day. After driving with an Irish and Canadian girl we met in the hostel and who had expressed and interest in going, we arrived back at the gorge. However this time we wanted to go one step further, so pulling the bodyboard from the roof (where it had remained inactive for a month of so) we went back to the rapid part. Here in front of a audience of 10 people looking down from the lookout (all of whom were secretly hoping for a bit of injury) I jumped in and rode the actual rapid/waterfall on the board. After whacking my legs on submerged rocks and swallowing a good deal of water, I resurfaced (possibly to a few disappointed sighs from the crowd) and did it again. It was great fun. Emboldened by my “success” Dave gave it a go. Sadly he let go of the board and succeeded in defying the laws of gravity by becoming submerged and up to his hair and not moving for 5 seconds. He neither surfaced or went with the current. It was hilarious. So after this bit of hugely immature fun, we went off on the 2 km rain-forest scenic walk which takes you all around surrounding areas of forest. On this walk you can see lizards, intricate fig trees woven with vines, walk across a rickety rope bridge and sit in amazement at the little creek that comes out of the dense forest into a pool of sunlight. Sorry for the silky and cheesy language but it really is one of those few places in the world that really and truly takes your breathe away. Sadly it also suffers from “photos can’t do it justice” syndrome, so the only way is to see it first hand yourself. Also the added bonus is there aren’t any cocodiles there so its safe! Hurrah!
Last night we went to the famous Cane Toad racing at the Iron bar, something I had wanted to do 3 and a half years ago but due to time couldn’t. This is a great event and entry only costs $5. For this you get to see people scrabble around for cane toads as women shriek when they come too near. So still with the girls from the hostel we headed down. The first two races were down to luck, if your raffle ticket was pulled out you got to race one of the six toads. The odds of you being pulled out of the hat are slim on a Saturday night (roughly 100 people there and only 12 get to race). However in the third race you get to auction a toad, so everyone has a fair chance to get involved. After unsuccessfully bidding for three toads (all bought by a parent who obviously wanted to win the prizes and gave the toads to his kids), it looked like we were going to miss out. However the five of us managed to get our hands on a pink clothed toad we affectionately named Big Gay Al, for the princely sum of $20. With a bar tab bill of $30 and a bottle of champagne at stake we had to win. The race goes like this. The person racing the toad stands up at the front (our “jockey” was me, who had to stand up with all self-indulgent parent’s kids looking like a sad English fool, but there where two other adults there so it wasn’t too bad) and gets given a whip. By a whip they mean one of those blow out horn things you get at kids parties. The idea is to persuade your toad off the centre table by blowing it with the horn thing. When it hops off you have to grab it and put it in a bucket. The first to do so wins. Oh and did I mention that before you can race you have to kiss the toad? Well you do and I had to do it twice for being English much to the amusement of all the Aussies. Quite. So as we all stood hunched over the table with the crowd waiting with baited breathe you could feel the tension. Then the bucket was lifted and pandemonium ensued. Which didn’t extend to my toad which sat there looking bemused. So I attacked it with vigour, fetching it a few hefty blows on the face with my paper whistle/horn. Nothing. It wasn’t the last left on the table but nearly. So summouning all my power I blew it once and hit it in the eye. That did it and Big Gay Al turned tail and bounced off the table. On the floor it was a piece of cake as my freakishly big hands made short work of picking it up and dumping it in the bucket. We had won! It was a glorious victory! It will go down in the annuls of history as on a par with Troy and Gettysburg as one of the greatest triumphs of all time. Or something like that. So our syndicate had won the booze. We also won a cap but being the gentlemen I am I gave it to one of the kids who I had successfully vanquished. I don’t think I was too popular though, but when you are a backpacker you can’t afford to let booze pass! It really was a great laugh, and for $9 definitely worth going to. When else do you get to see me kissing toads…… Flushed with our success we proceeded to get very drunk downstairs, which explains my fuzzy head today.
Port Douglas is one of those places I can see myself always coming back to. It has small town charm, a superb rain-forest fringed beach named Four-mile beach (which due to its flatness is perfect beach cricket territory), and a good nightlife. Whether a backpacker on a small budget or a hipster looking for luxury it really has it all. Best things are the beach, Mossman, On the Inlet waterfront seafood restaurant (bucket of prawns and a beer for $18 anyone?), the Sunday Markets, Cane Toad racing, the Courtyard Hotel (where I angered Dad by texting him informing him of my whereabouts in one of his favourite places drinking his favourite beer; Leffe. Hasn’t spoken to me since…..) and the great shopping. A must on anyones travel itinerary.
So after this we are off to Cape Tribulation for two nights then back south to our last port of call, Cairns. Here we will sell the car, party with school friends who are thereat the same time, and say goodbye to Australia. Also I will be going on a 3 day/ 2 night liveaboard dive trip on the reef, which will be great, it has 11 dives including two night dives. The other guys will be amusing themselves with skydiving and bungee jumping. Who said the trip was nearly over?
Jack xxx
