Cairns to Melbourne

Returned to the world of textiles. At the bike shop it took 15 minutes for a man to dismantle and box my bike, and squeeze in most of my luggage. This had taken Tony, Laura and I several hours. However, presumably no-one weighed it in Glasgow or London because I didn't have any more stuff, yet now it was over the 23 kg limit, and this was only ascertained after it had been taped up - at the airport. The 8 kg discrepancy would have cost $150, so obviously I took most of my luggage and added it to my carry-on baggage. The woman who dealt with me was none too friendly (and hardly looked up from her monitor) but the man next to her was, and he lent me scissors, tape and a bigger bag to take on the plane. I became increasingly stressed, ripping everything out of the box, reweighing it a few times and getting covered in bike oil in the process. Dragged the box to the oversize baggage section (I wasn't paying $3 for an airport trolley) and returned to the desk to criticize the woman for her lack of eye contact. She smiled sweetly and said she would take my advice onboard. Unfortunately, when atempting to pass through security, I realised that in my anxiety I'd included bike tools with the carry-on luggage, and, of course, they wouldn't let me do that. So, somewhat sheepishly, I had to return to the woman previously mentioned to ask for the box to be recalled, for it to be opened up AGAIN and taped up AGAIN. This time she smiled a lot and fixed her gaze on me. More dramas in the departure lounge, where it seemed ridiculous that passengers who had been given allocated seats queued up before being called forward. Stupid idiots, I thought. I hate standing in queues and ignored the announcement for our flight over the PA, as it would surely take ages for all the boarding cards to be processed. Five minutes later I heard my name being called over the PA and had to rush to make the plane... Although I'd asked for a window seat, I forgot about the wings, which obscured my view. However, (a) it was mostly cloudy through out the journey and (b) the man next to me said we would fly through the Outback. I had hoped to retrace my route along the coast, and get a perverse kick from measuring this three-hour flight against seven weeks of gruelling, sweaty toil. Peter, my original host in Melbourne, had suffered a relapse of his ME-type illness and asked me to try and find someone else to stay with for my remaining two nights in the country. As luck would have it, my older brother, Anthony, has a friend in the city, Sandra. She and her boyfriend, Howard, picked me up from the airport and took me to their place in Brunswick. Sandra cooked up a fabulous Spanish seafood affair, featuring muscles, prawns and beans. A serious foodie, she uses the finest ingredients in her cooking and we even drank white wine from a different type of glass to the red. They also have this Japanese fridge, the door of which can be opened from either side, as although it opens like normal, it's hinged on both sides. Whereas, Howard is into his hi fi and had searched the planet for the best kind of speakers, which are huge and individually shaped. Stupidly I itched my back to relieve the sunburn and it got worse and worse. Eventually I restrained myself from touching it again and the pain subsided during another uncomfortable sleep.

Cairns 2

Received this SMS from Kelly in Yarra Glen, Victoria : Hi Adrian, I have been reading your blog and just wanted you to know I have found it thoroughly entertaining and amusing. I wish I wasn't one of your first stops because then I would have known you liked a drink and your sarcastic sense of humour (at times) would have cracked me up whilst telling stories of the past few months!! Perhaps, I could greeted you at the front door with a towel whilst pointing at my watch! Argh, but in my case, it was I who expected you a day later... Ha ha... I think you will be nearing the end of your journey soon - congratulations... Thanks for letting me read your adventures on-line... And providing so many laughs. The sunburn was less sore, although it has been replaced by sunstroke and I felt queasy all day. Mike took his accolytes on a tour of the area, via a swim on the beach, a somewhat pedestrian walk along a river bank and another swim in his development's private pool. We bumped into an older homosexual (if you hadn't already guessed, Mike is of the fraternity) walking his dog, who must be jealous of all the young, studs passing through Mike's back door. There is a Yorkey's Knob Festival (if you didn't know the place you might think the second two words were joined rather than the first pair) where they crown a king and queen, or maybe a queen and queen, I forget. A festival organiser tried to change the name to Yorkey's Beach Festival, but the Knobs weren't having any of it. There's no point in putting up signs promoting the occasion, because they are stolen as soon as they are... ahem... erected. Being naked is, of course, soon forgotten, and I never caught anyone looking at anyone else's bits. It might be different (for me at least) if it were a mixed affair, yet ironically this could have made us feel less comfortable. Mike is keen to point out he hosts women and couples too, although I'm not sure how often. Really, though, what does it matter? He's gay and likes being naked around other, mostly younger, hot males (somehow I got in too). What of it? We all entered into this situation freely - and Mike makes it perfectly clear what guests are letting themselves in for, so those who haven't read his profile properly can back out. Many people would never try Couchsurfing and many more would never enter into a naked environment with complete strangers. Even a champion surfer such as myself, did so reluctantly, as the idea set off alarm bells. He must be a sexual pervert surely? I thought. Well, all I can say is that he is a thoroughly decent bloke; generous with his time and food, interested in other people and a natural bon viveur. Later I swam at another beach, read and people-watched. It's a difficult life. The east coast of Australia is extremely well set up for leisure activities. Just about every public place I've visited, such as parks, nature reserves, beaches, highway rest stops, etc, offers canopied picnic tables, free gas-powered barbecues, information signs, drinking water, manicured foliage, footpaths and so forth. I know I am on holiday, but imagine it would difficult to endure the daily grind in such a leisure-orientated environment and with this climate. The second beach was surrounded by a Stepford Wivesesque suburb, where dull, grey houses had been laid out in dull streets with names like Sea View and Bay Road, planted with evenly spaced trees, and where immaculately turned out, wholesome children skateboarded, cycled and got up to no mischief at all. Whereas Yorkey's has a homely, spunky vibe. I rode around a boardwalked wetland too, although the humidity wasn't conducive to nature appreciation. No way I could live in this prickly heat and don't see the point of spending 99% of your time in air-conditioned buildings and vehicles to avoid it. When returning to Melbourne tomorrow, I won't miss the nausea-inducing smells of carrion and fried tomatoes either. I saved a spider, that was being carried away by ants at each leg. The spider was so much bigger in comparison, even to eight ants, yet it was powerless in their grip. I couldn't stand by and watch that happen. The treefrog, which Mike relocated to the garden, promptly came back inside to exactly the same place - sucker padded to the inside of a lampshade, where it is motionless and perhaps wishes to hibernate. Mesmerised by the family of three bigmouths as well, which sleep in a tree during the day and hunt at night. They look a bit like owls, except with wider mouths obviously. Mike showed us an hour-long video of the snake that consumed a rat, about three times its width, in his front yard. He volunteers at a wildlife hospital, but unlike me, doesn't save creatures being eaten by others. In the evening we were joined by fresh meat in the muscular form of a young Swiss boy, Micha. Never mind that there wasn't much room, a mattress was made available for this young, tanned adonis, with dark brown curls and long eyelashes. Seriously though, he was very nice, and another delightful, al fresco meal took place. We enjoyed fat, thick sausages; and then we had dinner. Seriously though, I really do believe there's something to be said for socializing sans clothes. It feels natural somehow, and of course, like wearing a school uniform, it's a great leveller. Later we jumped in the hot tub, somewhat incongrous in northen Queensland, but still restful and reviving. Michael unleashed his collection of rubber ducks and I played with one that was actually more like a snake. Seriously though, it was a lot of fun and I'm so glad I threw caution and clothes to the wind by staying there.

Cairns

No more cycling... apart from the 13 miles back into town to catch a ferry to Green Island. (I bumped into the Taiwanese 'boys', as Mike calls them, at tourist information, but didn't recognise them with clothes on.) This is a bit of a cop out in terms of reef life, although it's cheaper and nearer than the outer reef. Thanks to Angela and Dave in Townsville, I also had a 30% discount voucher for this particular boat operator. The ride took 45 minutes; and 90% of the other passengers were from China or her eastern neighbours, some of whom didn't take part in swimming or diving, without which the $80 fare seemed a bit pointless. I, of course got my money's worth and snorkelled about for hours, marvelling at the increedible variety of fish, coral, turtles and even a small shark. Some of the fish confound the senses with their rainbow colours, and there were those ones that look like their all head and fin.(In other wildlife news, I saw a dead flying fox in the road today, which is a type of bat.) The remainder of the swimmers wore stinger suits, wet suits or at least T shirts. Because I only had the T shirt I wore and no towel, and didn't think the jellyfish would pose much of a risk (three stung tourists so far this year) I swum topless. Green Island gives the impression of being artificial, as it's sandy, minute and totally given over to tourism, with wooden walkways, cafes, shops, etc. The best part of the day was still riding my bike, even on main roads and even after the completion of the 3,000 mile tour. You'd think I'd be sick of it, but not a bit of it. Back at the nudist colony, Roger and Mikey cooked up a vast, Taiwanese feast, the multifarious flavours of which tingled on the taste buds. I asked what the constituents of one dish were, and Roger replied that apart from pork and fine noodles, he'd added Taiwanese Five Spice Powder. I supplied a box of wine, and did the washing up - or at least until my back starteed playing up. As the evening progressed, sunburn from the snorkeling got worse and worse. I didn't sleep much tonight, as I had to sleep on my front and couldn't find a comfortable position. I'd pooh-poohed shelling out $7 on a stinger suit, and hadn't even considered the sun's rays on an overcast day. Will I never learn?

Innisfail to Cairns

Tarried a while in Innisfail to watch the Anzac Day parade. About a thousand people took part and a similar number watched - in such a small town. Pity the poor kids who, unlike everyone else, didn't really get a day off, still had to get up early, wear their uniforms, march up and down and listen to boring speeches, etc. There were kilts, flags, banners, wheelchairs, veterans and a marching band. Many people wore medals, including small children, presumably passed down the generations. Last day of proper cycling and visited a couple of beauty spots off the highway; Josephine Falls and The Boulders. Swam in cool mountain water and drank a latte in someone's house overlooking fabulous greenery. When I say someone's house, it was a cafe in a house, with seating on the verandah and their toilet was also for public use. Crazy Australians. Only they were actually an elderly couple from Yorkshire. Later on, my lunch of cold chips dipped in vegemite is not to be recommended. And so to Cairns. I'll be honest, I had been trying to find an alternative place to stay. I'd been getting cold feet about the prospect of being in a naturist environment (and jelly knees, watery tummy and shrivelled up willy). It was obviously meant to be however, as I couldn't find anyone else. Mike lives in a beachside district 10 miles to the north, called Yorkey's Knob. No puns please. He had two other surfers from Taiwan staying, with the (additional English) names Roger and Mikey. All three pulled sarongs on when I arrived and then quickly dropped them. I had a cold shower outside (no puns) as this was the only option, towelled myself down, didn't put any clothes on and joined the happy throng. There was nothing to it, we didn't mention it, it didn't feel sleazy or embarrassing and conversed as normal. Mike lives in an open-plan house, which is effectively one room on each of the two floors. He has thousands and thousands of books, completely covering three walls, and also two big computer screens. Fred (skinny) and Philip (fat) made up the feline naturist component, and there are three frogmouth birds living in one of his trees. We had another guest, a bright green treefrog and earlier in the day I'd seen an approx. eight inch caterpillar and a praying mantis-type-thing rocking back and forth, as if in a trance. We had a roast dinner au naturel (no puns) and for the first time ever, I slept on a couch in a shared room (there were only two rooms after all).

Innisfail

The only spiders I'd seen were the hanging-upside-down-spindly-legs variety, but as it was a double bed and they were on one side, I thought they where fine were they were. Unfortunately I dislodged them by kicking the blanket off in the night. As I wasn't expected in Cairns (or Caiiirns as they say) until tomorrow, decided to stay another day. Steve works two weeks on, two weeks off and this is an off period. Popped out for milk in a grocery first thing and a beautiful grey cat greeted me there. The owner called her Miss Sticky Beak because she sticks her nose into people's business during her social rounds. Steve was towing a vehicle to Cairns and offered me a ride. I didn't want to see the finish line a day early, or drive on the same boring road I was to cycle, but my path in life is usually that of least resistance, so I hitched a ride. Then we literally hitched back, as if my telepathy jiggered the engine - or rather the gear box - which went kaput. It was all a bit dreamlike parking outside someone's isolated house in the middle of nowhere, 10 kms out of town, with sugar train rails right outside. Then this beautiful woman came out and offered us water. Anyway, Steve became a bit fractious when we got back to town and I left him to it. He had to hire another vehicle to collect the trailer (that had also been hired) transport the original vehicle to Cairns and then bring the other one back home. He likes fixing up really old cars like his 1967 Dodge, which was so rusty, you could hardly see its original colour. He told me of the time he'd done up an old Mercedes, which was so beautiful, everyone stared and commented on it. Steve and his young son were in a circus balancing act at the time (nothing unusual about that) and drove in this Merc from here to Tasmania to perform at a circus. The thing burst into flames. They returned home, picked up more stuff and then flew south instead. The moral of the story : there is no moral. Steve is an artist too (of course) and showed me his collection of hand-painted guitars - or rather hand-burned. He wouldn't show me his tattoo though. Nearly 50, he'd decided to have his first one - covering his back. His brother is a tattoo artist, so I guess it's free, but so far has taken hundreds of hours, in six-hour shifts, with a stream of pain killers. Innisfail has its own climate apparently, which is so wet, that plants grow super fast and green slime forms immediately in the tiniest body of water. There are salt water crocs here as well and when it floods their stomping ground enlarges... Headed to another beach for a bit of R & R, where a metre-long goanna wandered by a few inches away. A cassowary came up to me as well, on the scrounge. As I was lying down at the time, it towered over me, so I stood up, in case it pecked my head. There was a cordoned off section for swimming, although other bathers deemed it unnecessary. Met a man with a metal detector, who told me he had uneartherd two identifiable wedding rings in his time. He was able to return them both to the holidaymakers who'd lost them; one was ecstatic, but the other didn't even thank him and said they'd already claimed it on insurance. Back in town a man stopped me in the middle of the road as I rode along. The very next day Mick was due to fly to Europe, which he was going to cycle across - and possibly the US as well. He was about 70, had never been cycle-touring and hadn't trained at all, but had already bought a $5,000 bike, so was clearly up for it. He said his papaw farm had been decimated by a cyclone a few years back, he had started it again from scratch, and then Yasi blew it all down again last year. So, he'd given up and decided to travel the world. He'd already hitchhiked around Australia and had met another cyclist who had ridden round it, then couldn't stop and had now completed four revolutions. I bought beers and fish 'n' chips tonight, took them back to Steve's, where I watched the chirping geckos scampering after moths on the ceiling and also saw a flying fox in a coconut tree, which looked like a bat in the light of my bicycle light. It stared at me, then flapped away on big, black wings. I'll remember that house, so serene, yet at the same time surrounded by animal sounds on every side.

Mission Beach to Innisfail

The man at the motel tried to charge me double for breakfast! His good lady wife had already totalled the bill and he added the constituents to the sum. Amazed to see Woolworth's staff buying fruit in front of me at the checkout, which they consumed during their break outside. Hang on... Then they had a cigarette. Someone told me any kind of work break is called a 'smoko' here, whether you have a fag or not. Also heard a woman on the phone complaining about the cold nights and how she would soon be putting on an extra 'doona' (duvet). Cold! I had slept with only a sheet partially covering my naked form AND air con AND the fan. Suddenly treated to lush, glistening tropical fauna on the road back to the highway. Then it was foliage as normal, with one or two big leaf plants here and there, as well as sugar cane and pastures for brahmin cattle, with big ears and loose flaps of skin wobbling under their necks and tummies. Apart from that it was the usual semis, utes and minibuses for company. There are literally thousands of minibuses and caravan-type vehicles bearing the same rental insignia (Jucy, Spaceships, Britz, Backpackers) as well as quite a few graffitied buses, which look pretty cool until you see a hundred more almost identical. It's like thinking you're a hippie, while wearing Gap. Some very sad ant news. I came across a single-portion-size, transparent ketchup container and about 100 ants had been trapped inside. They had been attracted by the sugar, salt and e numbers, through an ant-size opening and had then either been unable to escape, and/or stuck in red glue. There are often ants wandering across my laptop screen when I first turn it on. This species are 1-2 mm in length (I've seen the largest and smallest ants in this land) and they might be attracted to sugar lodged between the keys, which has no doubt drizzled from bedtime sweets. Had already made it to tonight's destination by lunchtime and looked around town. Innisfail is a slightly down at heel place, predominantly serving the sugar cane and banana industries. Many of its buildings hail from the art deco period because a cyclone in 1912 flattened most of the earlier structures. The town floods once a year on average and a mountain nearby boasts Australia's highest annual rainfall of 4.5 metres! In the afternoon I took myself off to the nearby seaside at Flying Fish Point, then forged my way along a dirt track, wending through thick tropicality, to Ella Bay, a sweeping crescent of sand all to myself. A brief swimming session - as I was a bit scared of being stung/bitten/eaten/drowned and then back to meet up with tonight's Couchsurfer, who had (a) remembered I was coming and (b) available to host. It's ironic that my younger brother, Neil, had emailed me today about how my travel blog reminded him of The Heart of Darkness; in that I was begining to sound despondent about it all. Well, Steve, reminded me of Colonel Kurtz... No, not really, but there was something savage about him, in the nicest possible way. He had certainly had a few adventures in his time, first in the navy and then as a traveller. He spoke langurously, moved like a cat and yet, like a cat, he might just pounce. In a very Conradesque way, he said he had swum in the deepest oceans and walked down the darkest paths, and had dealt with the associated craziness of these places. In his naval days he'd been to islands in the South Pacific that hadn't been visited for 10 or 20 years where they put on spectacular dancing shows. He'd also been to Easter Island, where he'd swum in bright red volcanic crater pool. Now he works as an engineer fixing sterilizing machinery in hospitals, dentist's, tattoo parlours, etc, the length and breadth of Queensland, the Northern Territory and Papua New Guinea. His ramshackle house overflows with artefacts from Polynesian islands and collections of wooden crocodiles, basketballs and digeridoos. There was a huge turtle shell, a ship's bell, a painting of Christ on a leaf, a five foot high VW sign, a baby doll in a nun's habit, a painting of the Twin Towers disaster from New Guinea and locks set at different times, or with no hands. For dinner, and in his words, Steve prepared, "Something good and something bad." The former being 'cultured vegetables' (carrot, cabbage, ginger, garlic AND bacteria). He'd kept one such plant in the fridge for six months and said the flavour matured in time. I bet it did. Thankfully, at a week old, the bacteria had just been hatched in this one. The bad thing was pizza. Steve has gone to bed now and I'm typing this in his living room. I say 'room', but with all the openings (windows, doors) and noises (crickets, squeaks, creaks, rustles, etc) it feels like a treehouse. I'm delaying going to my room because my room is outside. It's a caravan. I can't see much inside there, not by candlelight. Steve supplied me with an insence thing to keep the mosquitos away and said I should give the bedding a good shake before settling down, because it hadn't been slept in for a long time and might contain spiders...

Ingham to Mission Beach

The motelier told me of another man cycling to Cairns who had stayed there a couple of days earlier. Maybe I could catch him up? I thought. Apparently he rested his legs on a bag of ice for two or three hours every evening. A serious cyclist. I won't catch him up. Northern Queensland is like one big building site. Roads are being built and resurfaced, buildings are going up and pipelines are being laid. The construction workers all wear bright orange and yellow; and so do other outdoor personnel, from truck drivers to postmen. In the future we will all have to wear high vis outfits all the time - even at home - in case we bump into each other. A rare uphill stretch this morning, over a mountain pass and although my legs were up to it, my sweat glands were not. Hills = OK, heat = OK, hills + heat = hell. Cold pizza was enjoyed under palm fronds on the beach at Cardwell, with the spiky Hinchingbrook Island as a backdrop. I'm not sure why I even considered staying in Cardwell; it's only 33 miles from Ingham and no host could be found there. So I continued to Mission Beach, where Couchsurfers resided - and ones with good references - as Wayne and Margot in Rockhampton had spent time with them. As I was a day early, I sent a message in the hope I could stay there tonight. The lady who answered told me I had been expected two weeks earlier and they had a full house this weekend. You have to watch the dates on the drop-down menus on the Couchsurfing request system; they play tricks on you. Just the other day I noticed a future booking ran from April 25th of this year to April 26th of next year. So, another lonely night spent in lodgings, using money I don't have. The lady at the Mackay Motel charged $110. Me : "I'm looking for something cheaper than that." Her : "How much would you like to pay?" Me : "As little as possible." Her : "Would $80 be OK?" I didn't have the balls to go lower than that. I should have contacted motels in advance, telling them that it was a sponsored ride, like the guys I met near Townsville. Babies with Aids or something. I could have told them about my blog as well and how it had thousands of subscribers, then I could have written a second, much shorter blog with glowing references of the accommodation I'd blagged : "It was fantastic! The couple were fantastic! The bare walls were fantastic!" The room did indeed have bare, brick walls; however, there were actually two whole pictures hanging on them. A Chinese Honey Chicken takeaway was on the menu tonight and then I drank a beer at an open-air bar. Company was what I really thirsted after, but there was no one who I wanted to talk to, or had the guts to approach. People are in their little conflabs and I'm not going to barge in on them. Back to the room for channel hopping, which takes an eternity because there are so many channels and half of them are showing ads at any one time.