Once my accomodations were decided, I explored the rapids of Little Crystal Creek, and then continued up, up, up the road to Paluma Village. I guessed I wouldn't be giving Avis my contact number that evening, and besides, how could they find me? At the top, there were a few houses, religious retreats, and the B&B I'd held as a distant option for the night was in fact under renovations. I wandered around, checking out McLelland's lookout, Witt's lookout (which seemed to have amazing views, but night was falling and clouds were beginning to obscure everything), and then Cloudy Creek, where I played around with my cam until I realized I was 3 km from my car, and faced a pitch black walk back through the rainforest. Luckily, I have a handy batteryless flashlight.
Once back at the car, I decided that the rest of the local trails would have to wait until morning, so I opted for getting a meal at Hidden Valley Cabins. I'd seen that they had hot meals available, and it was only 25 km away. I set off down the road, and immediately outside of Paluma, the road turned to gravel, and I was careening down a one-lane road through ruts, grids, and bush in the dark. After a knuckle-whitening drive, reassured every 5 km that I was on the right route by wooden Hidden Valley signs, I actually saw lights, and pulled up to the cabins. Instead of some podunk backwoods place where I was fearing for my life, I found a really nice retreat of rustic wooden cabins - perfect for those who truly want to get away comfortably. It is a family place run by Ian and Bonnie, helped by their son Ross and his lady Chelsea. The family had finished up for dinner, and were sitting down to eat when I arrived. Ross has grown up here and had travel in his blood. In fact, he had been in Fernie BC working at the resort at the same time Dunc, Shawn Adler and I headed out there for snowboarding a couple of years back (remember -30, man?) Ross looks familiar and has kinda crazy hair, and I actually think I remember him being a liftee. He regailed me of his times in Fernie, and mentioned that he's starting up a tour business in conjunction with the Cabins (www.hiddenvalleycabins.com). I mentioned that my plans were up in the air, so he told me some places to check out in the area, essentially the basis for the tours he'd be conducting. They sounded pretty cool, and following dinner (i got seconds - yum!), I declined the offer for a room (I'd found a cheaper alternative in... uh... camping), and set back out for Paluma. I wanted to catch a picture of Witt's lookout without the dusk clouds.

After driving down the road for a bit, I pulled down a nondescript sideroad, which turned out to be a small gravel dump. Perfect. I checked out the stars, which were clear, clear, clear, and got ready for the night's sleep. First, a curl up in the back seat. After two hours, I decided no. Then the front passenger seat, which only reclines 3/4 of the way. Nope. Finally, I ended up with my bum on the passenger seat, feet by the pedals, and straddling the gear shift. I think when Jess suggested sleeping in the car, he didn't have a Getz in mind.

I was awake at 6 the next morning for some reason, in time to watch the sun rise over the bent gum trees (not rainforest). After rubbing the kinks out of my back, and marvelling at the size of the bird poo surrounding my car (must be cassowaries!), I headed back to Paluma to check out things that I had missed the day before. I was bummed about not seeing any cassowaries, but since Mission Beach was in the middle of the Cassowary Coast, I figured they would be falling from the sky there. My first stop was about 10 km outside of Paluma Village, at a little place in midst of the rainforest called Butterfly Creek. After a 580 trek away from the car, I found the pretty little rapids with cascades of water. After a moment's contemplation, I decided I was bored with pretty little rapids. Back at the car, and observing the cloud cover, I decided that my chances of seeing off Witt's Lookout while it was clear were slim. I decided to head off to Ross' first recommendation, Mt. Fox, an extinct volcano.

I began my backcountry drive through little settlements nestled among the gums, each house flanked by the water/rain collection towers of corrugated metal. I flew down the red dirt roads, through dips and across dried creek beds, avoiding ruts with fancy footwork, and feeling the car slide around corners in the loose gravel. Of course, I was an old hand at this, having driven my mother's car in the same manner through the sideroads of the Hockley. I figured out what the grids I'd been crossing were all about. The seemingly vacant scrub and bush I'd been driving through were in fact grazing grounds for free-ranging cattle. What a sad lot these things were, with their humped backs and ribs sticking out, they seemed like emaciated yaks.
After whipping down the road for a while (I drove the hell out of that car, and it took the beating well, although it was now covered with dust and gumsap. Ah well, it's a rental), I noticed two things dart out in front of the car. KANGAROOS!! I jammed on the brakes, grabbed my camera, and chased them into the scrub. I could see them in the distance, but my pitiful zoom couldn't get them, so I wandered back to the car through the dirt ant hills covering the ground.
I finally arrived at Mt. Fox, sticking up out of the surrounding flat farmland. No Guate-esque half-day climbs here, I reached the crater after a steep, thigh-burning climb from the base, only to find... a meadow? Great. I wandered over to take some requisite vista shots when I noticed a pair of ears sticking out of the grass. Having now been sensitized to this, I stalked the 'roo through the grass, and over the side, down the rocks and bush, to the land at the base, where I saw two more jetting into the distance. Cool, I think I managed to get some good shots, although I now realized I was back at the bottom of the volcano again. I climbed back up, had a poke around, and descending, I ran into a couple who were beginning their ascent. I excitedly told them about chasing the 'roos, although they didn't seem that interested. Aussies.

My next stop was Wallaman Falls, also on Ross' suggestion. Wallaman is a river which encounters first a little 30 drop, followed by a 285-metre freefall. I checked out the gorge and hiked to the base (2 km), where I found my first good use for the Frommers - as a surface on which to make some sandwiches. I would have swam here too, but the "Crocs in Water" sign acted as a bit of a deterrent. I decided that I was a little tired of waterfalls too, and slogged my way back to the top..... whew!

Seeing as the sun was going down, I knew I needed to find lodgings. I decided to head back to the coast to a little town called Lucinda, which is the gateway to Hinchenbrook Island National Park. As I was lost in my thoughts, I caming wailing around the corner of a wall of sugarcane to encounter a herd of cattle on the highway. I wanted a pic, but they were kind enough to move just as I got the camera in position. Too bad, but I soon learned that the best way to do this was drive with the camera sticking out the window. Carrying on, I passed through the tiny town of Halifax, which had a bunch of old hotels along a little side street, and finally reached Lucinda. After a drive around, I realized that my only options here were boncy B&Bs or a few small resorts. A drove to a cul-de-sac by the sea, and had a little moment of loneliness. I considered sleeping in the Getz again, and immediately withdrew the idea. I turned the car around, and headed back to check out the hotels in Halifax.