The pics below are from Wallaman Falls, while above is the 'roo at Mt. Fox, and cows on the way to Ingham, a town en route to Halifax and only one font size bigger.

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.

In Sydney, heading out on a road trip with my Cousin this afternoon. There was an amazing storm here last night, with crazy lightning flashing over the harbour. Today the winds are nukin', Don, hope you are getting use of the stuff. Hellos to Lina, Kelly, and Meagan, friends of mine back home who are all starting new lives as grad students in the near future. Suckers.

I want to get back to the 29th of August, when I was arriving off the ferry from Magnetic Island and trying to rent a car. The first snag came when I needed to give Avis the contact number, and I didn't have a phone. Now, this "cell while travelling" thing is different from what I'm used to. When I travelled Canada, cells were available, not surely not common place. Guatemala just doesn't (didn't) have cell service, and thus I just got used to travelling without. The fact that you are cut off from the world is part of why you go... like camping. But here (not meaning Sydney, but this batch of travel) everyone has a phone... they spend a chunk of their downtime texting and calling... I know they are easy to get, in fact my plan at home was offering to give me one... well, not GIVE give, you know what I mean.... I just don't want to have one, and since I'm always moving and not looking for work, no one is really going to call me. On the otherhand, if I was here on a year long work visa, staying in places for several weeks or crossing my fingers that some guy will let me pick mangoes for 12 hours a day, I would definitely change my tune.

The Avis guy said that when I arrived at my destination, I could give him the number of where I was staying. "And where would you be going?" Uhhh...... At the time, I was thinking Mission Beach, as I had passed it on the bus on the way down, it was rife and bubbling with cassowaries apparently (part of the Cassowary Coast - protected land, yet they are expanding the highway through it), and rumoured to be laid back. I had felt a twinge of regret when I'd ridden by, and so figured that's where I'd go with the car. Reading a brochure over lunch, I read about this mountainous, rainforested national park called Paluma near Townsville, and it was roughly on the way to Mission Beach, and en route Paluma was Crystal Creek, the divin' hole. Itinerary. I said I'd call the office that night when I got to Mission.

With my new set of wheels, a grey Holden Getz, I cruised around Townsville, and ended up taking a "surf-and-sand" bath on the main beach before I jumped in the car. Hey, I was greasy.
I headed north on the Bruce Highway, and after about an hour, reached the turnoff to Paluma. 18 km to Paluma, and 7 to Crystal Creek. Perfect. Of course, the road forked, with one sign pointing to Little Crystal Creek/Paluma, the other Big Crystal Creek, both 7km.... Why was THIS the first time I heard of this Little/Big stuff?..... Ummm..... I decided to go to Little Crystal Creek, as it was en route to Paluma. (none of the maps I'd seen had mentioned that there were two Crystal Creeks, and stupid Frommer's didn't even mention Paluma), and besides, I had the car, I could check it out tomorrow, but I COULDN'T, because I was going to Mission Beach. I drove along the road, which quickly evolved into mountain driving - 1.5 lanes, with a wall on one side and cliff on the other, second gear all the way up. The views of the mountain range were beautiful when I could see them, but spent a good deal of the time winding through dense forest that overhung the road. Eventually I reached Little Crystal Creek, basically a set of rapids and a stone bridge built by hand in the '30s. (Actually, the whole road I was driving was built by hand as a Depression-era makework project.) Wild turkeys were squawking all around the parking lot when I stepped, but the novelty of those birds would soon wear off, as they are everywhere in this part of Queensland. I took a look at the tourist board, and saw a number of different trails around here and further up in Paluma. It was already 3:30 in the afternoon, and in these parts it gets dark at 6, and quickly at that. I wanted to do these trails, 'coz the views of the rainforested valleys were breathtaking. There were no hostels in the area, and it would be hard to see anything at all and still make it to Mission. A couple of B&Bs were located in Paluma apparently, but hadn't done anything about booking, and due to lack of cell, couldn't book now. Then I remembered some advice from my friend Jesse back home, "You can always sleep in the car."

Perfect.

Road from Hidden Valley to Mt. Fox, and view from top of Mt. Fox Crater.

Getting ready to leave Noosa Heads, off to Sydney to meet up with Cousin Norm for his tearful goodbye to Sydney and subsequent Southern Drive Road Trip through to Adelaide. Pix are road outside of Paluma, and Cloudy Creek in Paluma National Park.

Following my trip to the Yongala, I took advantage of happy hour on the patio of X Base on Maggie, and somehow it melted into a dance night in the evening, which somehow melted into me grabbing my horn and mixing it up with the DJ. After the dive of a lifetime, and several hours on the patio, I was pretty charged, and the jam was a lot of fun. The DJ, who'll remain nameless for karmic reasons, told me about a not-so-legal beach party the following weekend (Sept2), at an undisclosed location, with DJs, drummers, and other straggly musos jamming down on the beach. I thought: wicked. I had been planning on leaving Maggie and the Townsville area on the Monday, so this meant I had to stick around the area. Ah well, I decided to rent a car and go inland upon my return to the mainland, and I still had plenty of time left in my trip. Unfortunately, I don't have a cell, and once again forgot a pen when I needed it the most. Mental note: don't go out at night without your pen! So I took his email, and said we'd hook up again. I couldn't just meet up with him at the gig, since it was TOP SECRET. After I got my horn yaw-yaws off, headed down to Rocky Beach to see stars and go for a swim. Got really stoked on the phosoplankton, which light up in the water when you wave your hand through it. Apparently, when they light up, it means they're dying. I was the Mad Butcher.

Woke up at noon, and was alone again, the crew having checked out at 10am. Kind of a mellow day, since I was by myself again, and it was too late to organise any sort of adventure. One of the drags about travelling alone is that you sometimes get a little sick of being alone. With the schedule I'm on, I find that I have the time to know people a little better, but not long enough to be mates forever, especially without the immediacy of the cell phone. At the same time, there is a luxury to being able to arrange and rearrange time table, or not bother at all, stay an extra day, leave earlier than you thought, switch hostels or rooms on a whim, and there is always room for one more anywhere. An advantage of a time-maxxed tourist visa versus the full year is that you are always feel transitory. I've heard than when you settle for a bit and pick apples or tend bar for 3 weeks or more, it ceases to be like travelling and life. Still, it's a nice little global community, and I find a few people who find a place and just stay there..... Hmmm....

Spent the rest of the day and next relaxing and exploring. Once I had my head together again, I rented a scooter and went to explore the island. Sorry mom, motorbikes rule. My first stop was Horsehoe Bay at the top of the island for a wander along the beach and Cap'n Cooks favourite rocks. Hopped back on the bike up to the Forts, which is the site of a WWII army base that had been disguised as boulders, the path up to which is supposedly packed with koalas. Considering I didn't know what eucalyptus looked like, and koalas only eat certain subspecies, the path up was slow as I had to crain my neck at every tree. I was not rewarded. The Forts themselves were essentially the concrete floors of the bunkhouses, and the remnants of the control centre and signal tour. Unfortunately, the boulder camoflage is mostly stripped away, but the towers offered great views of the surrounding area. On the way down, I ran into a red-headed girl who was looking for koalas, and I had nothing to offer her. After that it was down to Florence Beach for some snorkelling, then the long walk back to the bike, and a last minute cruise to Picnic Bay to run out the clock on my rental. On the way back to my bike, I ran into the red-headed girl again, and it turns out she saw two pairs of koalas, mom and cub. Man! This trip sucks!

Checked out the next day, and chatted out with two British girls who had seen koalas, and dolphins while kayaking. Man! Got to the terminal, and rented a car, which was made a bit difficult about my lack of a cell and, well, destination. I guess they like that sort of thing. I rented a manual Holden Getz, and after some humming and hawing, and a chance look at a tourist brochure, I decided on Paluma NP, en route to which was Crystal Creek, a nice little swimming spot recommended by a local the previous evening.

First pic is Florence Bay on Maggie, note the dark blue spot to the left of the bay. That's a coral bed. To the right is the waterfall at Little Crystal Creek, but I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

Back to Magnetic Island, and the 25th of August. Following my trek to Rocky Beach et al., I booked my trip to the Yongala (following winding up on the waiting list, a trip to Nelly Bay proper to get glue for my glasses and mute, only to return find I'm now booked to go, and lose my sunny's in the excitement), hung out on the beach, and
got to know my bunkmate Philip from Germany, who was travelling with a bunch of guys from Holland who he met on a scuba course in Cairns. Soon, we happened to be joined on the patio by Joon from Korea via San Diego and Diana from Switzerland, also from Philip's dive course and just happened to come through to the hostel (X Base).
What turned out to be a late night turned into an early morning, as I was heading out to the Yongala, which I've already described. More soon, getting kicked out.

Horseshoe Beach.

Croikey, Steve Irwin passed away today after being stung close to the heart by a stingray, causing a cardiac arrest. He was diving off of Port Douglas, and was transported to Cairns Hospital following the accident. Love or hate the guy (I kinda thought he was a goof), it's sad that he died and I feel bad for his family.

As for me, it has been a strange day. Following an unexpectedly late night, I was in lounge mode, until the realization that I only have two days left in Noosa Heads forced me to get active. I booked a surf lesson with Merrick's Surf School, and headed down to Main Beach to hit the waves. It turns out that my pretention of having windsurfed and snowboarded for many years didn't help me, at least not today. No, today was all about paddling, relaxing, and catching the wave. Towards the end of two hours I was successful in getting up about 1 in 4 times, and it is good to know that running down small children has much less dire consequences with a foam board in the ocean than Mach 10 on a snowboard on the hill. I was particularly stoked about one of my runs when I first heard the rumour about Steve Irwin.

The media here are running tributes non-stop, and word has it there will be a moment of silence tomorrow. The hostel has a weird quiet vibe, but I don't know if that is because it's Monday and, well, last night was a late one. An extra spin of weirdness for me personally is that I was in Las Vegas (for my bro's wedding, and a styley Elvis he makes) when Roy got munched by the tiger, and I remember word of that first spreading around the swimming pool.

Above is a pic of Rocky Beach on Maggie, good for solitude, rock crabs, watch destruction (yeppers, this one didn't even last a month - I guess it warn't waterproof afterall.), and stars 'n' Mars watching. The next cove over was my hostel.