Townsville
I travelled to Townsville by train on ‘The Spirit of Queensland’ and it certainly lived up to the name. After track repairs and the prospect of spending three years on a rail replacementI bus I changed the date of departure only for Queensland to experience a week of heavy tropical rain and substantial floods. Queensland rail got in touch, the train was running at the moment but there was no guarantee it would make the whole journey to Townsville. (Or to the outskirts of Cairns)! I decided to be adventurous and throw caution to the wind by travelling across the great nowhere on a train that couldn’t guarantee it would get to anywhere! How Australian.
But it turned out that the modern day Australian had decided to fly so I practically had the whole carriage to myself apart from two old chaps who looked like they would have preferred we were on a wagon train. We were warned again we might not make it to our destination and advised we were the first train through after the floods. Pioneering stuff I decided! However three hours out of Cairns and (obviously) in the middle of nowhere we stutter to a hault. Ominous. I wonder if we’ll be told we have to camp or someone will be sent off for some mules. The train was on a slight bend so if you pressed your cheek against the window you could see the front. We seemed to have hit a tree that had fallen across the tracks. The conductor (who looked fantastically like Ronnie Barker ) and a few men in high visibility vests were scratching their heads and much pointing was going on. The train slowly moved backwards, I held my breath, ready for the announcement of doom.
But just as the name implies the spirit of Queensland won out and Ronnie and his Ealing comedy crew began hauling twigs, branches and the whole tree off the tracks. Like watching a scene from the railway children we cheered them on from the comfort of our air conditioning. Then a very charming announcement was made saying ‘sorry for the delay but there had been a technical problem we would soon be under way’ as if ‘we’re just dragging a tree off the tracks folks has anyone got a chainsaw?’ would be too alarming. All clear and we chug onwards, remarkably. I ponder how different the outcome would be in England, obviously this tree had the right sort of leaves?
(What was left of the offending tree)
The lush countryside through northern Queensland and flood damage outside Townsville.
In Cairns they refer to Townsville as Brownsville as it is so dry and there is (an almost)! friendly rivalry between the two cities. It made me feel rather sorry for the place before I arrived but of course after all the rain all I got to see was greenandpleasantville. Good on ya I thought.
My first visit was to Reef HQ, the Great Barrier Reef aquarium in Townsville. It is remarkable, with the largest natural living reef in an aquarium, onsite sea turtle hospital and occasional mermaids.
The most compelling experience was a talk on sea turtles and a visit to the sea turtle hospital to see how the marine keepers and vets look after and rehabilitate them. The main problem for sea turtles it seems is us. It’s sobering. Even the tiniest bit of plastic once swallowed will kill a turtle, there are displays of the different detritus that has been found in side sea turtles. Sea turtles cannot survive anaesthetic so there is no surgery that can save them. It’s tragic. It’s something we can do something about and the reef are running a campaign #Lovethereef@reefhqaquarium to help raise awareness of the amount of plastic we use. People are being asked to make a pledge, however small, to make a difference.
My favourite turtle by far though was ‘Monday’. He had been brought in for fear he was undernourished and had problems with floating which means the turtles rise up to the top of the water and can’t swim or feed properly. After some care, medication and physio the marine biologists were confused. When it was feeding time Monday would swim normally, when he was secretly watched he would swim normally around his tank but when humans were near he would basically put on his ‘I’m poorly sick routine’ and display all the worrying signs of illness. He did it for us, but I’m afraid for Monday his games up, there is nothing wrong with him. He’s had all the tests. He’s either very wise to an easy life or imagines he’s on Casualty. ( I liked to think this, that he is the Larry Olivier of the sea turtle world, no one can do the floating sickness like Monday darling!).
Billabong Sanctuary
Now I’m not sure in the rules of ‘how to be an Air BnB host’ it suggests taking your guest out for a trip to the local animal sanctuary on your day off? But this week I have not just been staying with any old Air BnB hosts, I’ve been staying with Ben, Mara and their totally cute dog Louis. And so it was that with huge generous spirit, kindness and mild insanity (which will be clearer later) Mara drove me the 17km out of town to the perfectly wonderful Billabong sanctuary. It works very much to educate people about the local wildlife by specialised talks and hands on experiences. The sanctuary takes in animals, birds and reptiles that have been injured, orphaned or in the case of crocodiles labelled ‘most wanted’.
I decided it was best to wear my Indiana Jones meets Crocodile Dundee outfit but as was woefully apparent from the outset had neither the gile nor the experience when it came to feeding, handling and generally being around the local critters.
Feeding Ash the black Cockatoo, making friends with Bruno the Koala and Wanda the Wombat.
Very nonchalantly holding a baby croc, blue tongue lizard (called Kevin) and feeding the kangaroos. The rangers were amazing, full of knowledge, enthusiasm and sheer bravery. They are not teasing the animals but getting them to move like they would in the wild. Crocs can’t digest food if they are too cold so the wriggling about warms them and the having to fight for food is obviously like catching prey. It was the most amazing day.
Now, Ben and Mara. As I have suggested are not your average hosts and because of their great sense of humour (they seemed to be laughing at my jokes)! I decided when they asked on the first night why I was travelling, to be honest and explain the woollybuttness. Thankfully I wasn’t asked to leave the house but they laughed and were at once keen to know ‘what was the place that brought me here then?’ And so it was the story of Chunda Bay began.
Now Chunda bay (and maybe shag lagoon) was always going to be my nemesis. Even on google maps a chimp like me could see it was well out of town and surrounded by nothing apart from the ominous ‘crocodile creek’. At first Ben and Mara hadn’t even heard of it until I showed them on the map, so it was clear again there might not be a gift shop. However Ben seemed to think it was near A.I.M.S (Australian institute of Marine Science) (or SPECTRE as it turned out) so it was decided we would all go (this time on Bens day off, I know amazing kindness, or maybe just pity for the eccentric old lady?!) and discover this local wonder.
So off we set and once out of town (but not quite in Brisbane) we turned off down this long mysterious road. (Now at this point you need to know we were driving in a white Kia saloon type car) (well Ben was) (I was doing good sitting in the back) (tricky). The road was deserted apart from one car who passed us in the other direction and did a little finger wave of acknowledgement to Ben which he reciprocated, as you do, politely, not knowing who the blazes it was. Ben laughed ‘oh I’ve got a new friend!?’ We decided it was such a lonely stretch of road maybe it was the first car he’d seen in twenty years and carried on.
After about three weeks without any sign of a turn off road or sign saying Chunda Bay experience this way we came to a set of impressive gates.
Yes you’re right. The sign does say authorised visitors only, but we were visitors and the gates were open . . . and our only other option was hiking through croc infested swampy forest. We venture further. No flashing lights, no sirens, so far so good! Then we get to the inner sanctum.
We weren’t getting past these gates without our matching spectre overalls, nasa lanyards or a few living fish organs to deliver. The road to Chunda bay seemed to be at an end. But one thing had been made clear, our ease of entry, our nod from AIMS employees . . . because nearly every car in the car park was a white Kia saloon! Unbeknownst to us we had cloaked ourselves in the perfect camouflage, the spectre company car!
However, not ones to give up, we do have photographic evidence that I think clearly proves we were successful in our mission, (my mission) to see the allusive Chunda Bay:
Such a success! And to think we didn’t see the Chunda Bay sign from the outset??What with it being so local-council-roads-dept-official looking (and so large!)? But I think for sheer effort and audacity Chunda Bay will take some beating in the collection of silly places and wonderful ridiculous memories.
with grateful thanks to my two new, lovely (and somewhat suggest-able friends)!
Very serious adventures.com 