30 June- July 2, Townsville – With a need for a few replacement caravan parts, we drove from Charters Towers to Townsville. We played the watching game with the fuel levels, having decided that we had enough fuel to get there, but forgetting that the sub-tank only had 20 litres in it. When we realised, we thought we could get a bit at the Burdekin Duck Roadhouse, but it was under renovation. As it was, we had no issues, but I always like to be over-confident.
The Flinders Hwy was a far cry from the rubbish roads of the Inland Way, smooth, and, in our case, mostly down hill. The traffic was heavy but there were regular passing lanes.
Once in Townsville, we parked up in the Townsville Gateway Caravan Park and after refusing to stay next to a guy that had spread over on to our site and let his dog crap everywhere, we settled in under a huge mango tree.
After lunch, we set off to find some parts for the caravan. Mysteriously, the inside of the door handle had snapped last night as I was closing it. If we didn’t have tools in the van, we would have been trapped inside. Luckily, a pair of grip pliers did the job. The other part we needed was a new base for the table, the bad roads almost sheering ours off at the clamp. We drove across Townsville to where most of the caravan parts places were. The first one had the handle we needed, but not the base, and the second just shook their heads. A bit of Googling revealed a small job welding firm just around the corner. We tried that, and the guy gave it to a worker, handed it back about five minutes later better and stronger than ever. He didn’t want any money. If we were carrying cash we would have forced a donation to the staff Friday drinks but that doesn’t work with a card. Once back at the van, I fitted the table in ten minutes and the next hour or so was spent figuring out how to fit the handle. We eventually succeeded after much Youtube watching.
Townsville is now a city of around 200,000, grown from the 130,000 when we were last here in 1990. The infrastructure has grown with it and the traffic is quite manageable with some well considered motor-ways and by-passes keeping the heavy trucks out of a lot of areas. In 1990, there was the one high rise hotel, now there are many multi-storey buildings dotted around the CBD and a magnificent huge sports stadium. One section of town was getting ready to host the V8 Supercars in a week or so and we drove past the tracks and temporary stands being erected. However, the essential tropical town character remains with the beautiful old colonial stone buildings complementing the new.
We spent a day on Magnetic Island, only about 8kms off the coast. It is Townsville’s Rottnest, except we enjoyed it a lot more than we like a day trip to Rotto. For a start, the return high speed ferry set us back $28, rather than nearly $100 for Rottnest. Once there, you can use the bus system to get around the island for an all day payment of $1, or 50c each trip. The food outlets were free enterprise, and not monopolised by a board as it is on Rottnest, so food options were plentiful and well priced. The ambience of the place is “laid back” in the extreme, even in the middle of school holidays. The buses were crowded, but no one pushed or complained.
We bussed over from Nellie Bay to the beautiful Horseshoe Bay. As a developed beach, it is easy to compare it to others in SE Asia or Sri Lanka. It looked similar, with enormous strangler figs and pandanus palms lining the beach. But the comparison stopped there. No hard sell beach lounges, no trinket sellers parading up and down, no massage offers. Just families swimming inside the net-protected beach area with life guards on watch and others sitting in the myriad sidewalk eateries. We loved it. The water temperature of 22 degrees didn’t temp us, but we were happy to watch, and indulge in some of the best fish and chips for many years. Picnic Bay was much the same, with families fishing off the jetty, surf life saving classes going on practicing sea rescues with inflatable boats, and people just chilling out. Magnetic Island is a winner for us. We might have to come back for a stay.
A walk around the historic old part of the Townsville was very picturesque, with the famous “Strand” having a number of very grand colonial buildings and the lush green Anzac Park opposite. The Museum of Tropical Queensland was a bit underwhelming, despite the imposing structure on the edge of the wharf area. The most interesting exhibit is devoted to the wreck of the Pandora, the British frigate that was sent to the South Pacific to capture the mutineers from the Bounty. They only ever caught a few, before hitting a reef in the Torres Straits. Much 18th Century naval material has been retrieved, along with a vast collection of stone weapons and artifacts from Tahiti, expanding knowledge of that culture as well. In the main foyer of the museum, the bow of the ship has been erected in full size and the deck plan laid out on the carpet, giving the idea of the size and scope of the ship. The rest of the museum was largely a sad collection of dead animals.
3 July, Halifax – Queensland’s Bruce Hwy has a terrible reputation and soaks up a big part of the budget. However, after the rigours of the inland route, we found it a real luxury. With numerous passing lanes and pull-over sections, we had a stress-free drive, despite heavy traffic. Our trip took us through Ingham, a reasonably large place and certainly very busy. Sugar cane is king around here and the land is filled with light rail tracks to service the little cane trains that seem to run everywhere. Most of the cane fields are in full bloom at present, with long fluffy stalks of fine flowers. It is quite a sight.
About 130kms north of Townsville, we pulled off on the road to Lucinda and stopped at the little town of Halifax on the Herbert River. Here, the town has established a free park, asking for shopping or donation in the town. We had to select a site carefully, because some parts were still boggy after the last rains.
We strolled around the town and made a couple of purchases at the SPA Supermarket. The town has two pubs, one did not appear to operate. The other was very new inside, suggesting renovations. A very noisy group was enjoying a few drinks on the footpath outside. Next to the pub was a cosy looking little place decorated with music memorabilia and having a small band area in one corner. Outside, a caravan sold snack like take-aways. It all looked quite inviting.
After lunch we had yet another lie down, resulting in a deep sleep. On waking, we found we had neighbours all around us, some quite close. They proved to be Queenslanders making their annual pilgrimage to the Cape area, having family in Weipa. They gave us lots of good tips about the journey north.
The lady from the snack-food caravan came down and did the rounds of the campers, spruiking her place for dinner. We decided to have a beer at the pub and follow it up with something “bad” from the caravan. We’d give the promised karaoke a miss though. At the pub, we learnt that the renovation was down to a big flood in February 2025. The water had come through the pub about half a metre deep and stayed for 15 days, soaking up through the clay brick walls. After a long fight with an insurance company, the renovations are well underway. We enjoyed a very pleasant couple of drinks with a NSW couple. Meanwhile, the noisy group from the afternoon were still at it, the birthday boy looking well under the weather.
The snack-food van was excellent and we destroyed our diet and still had a box of chips to take home. It was all in the name of supporting local business.
4-5 July, Hull Heads – Another 110km hop north along the coast took us through Cardwell, a lovely beachside town at the northern end of the Hinchinbrook Channel. Then we turned off the Bruce Hwy again and drove out to Hull Heads, at the mouth of the Hull River. There is no town as such, just a collection of houses and a volunteer coast guard base. They run a campground to raise funds and we settled in to a very beautiful site. Preparations were underway at the coast guard base for a big party, to celebrate and commission a new patrol boat. A crowd of 200 or so was expected and so we anticipated a noisy night, but things were over quite early and all very civilised.
As usual, the fishing, normally very good, was proving quiet. I added my name to the list of people who fished without success. In fact, the only thing I saw caught in the two days was a small spotted sting ray. The scenery almost made up for the lack of bites. The river, the mountains covered in forest and the islands offshore, including Dunk Island, made for a beautiful location. The second day was wet, with rain most of the morning, yet it was still warm and very pleasant.
6-7 July, Atherton – We drove a few kilometres into Tully, past a huge sugar refinery belching steam and smoke into the air. Bananas were also in abundance as well as a few herds of cattle. Before Innisfail, we turned inland along the South Johnstone Road to begin the climb up into the mountains of the Great Divide.
Progress was fine for a while and we reached the Mamu Rainforest Skywalk. This beautiful area of rainforest has a long, raised metal walk platform that gives access to the forest canopy, as well as a cantilevered viewing platform providing amazing views of Mt Bartle Frere, Qld’s highest. Hundreds of metres below, the North Johnstone River hammered through the gorge. At the end of the walk is a high tower that gives more amazing views out across the rainforest covered slopes. The walking trails are through incredible forest, with giant staghorn and birds nest ferns hanging off moss covered trees. The tree ferns reached enormous heights. Cassowaries had been seen in the area recently and one couple ahead of us reported a sighting, but we missed out and the iconic bird remains on our “never seen” list. It was a spectacular walk.
After Mamu, the road seemed to head upwards for a very long way. I started to think the climb would never stop, but then we went down for a couple of kilometres, which was a bad thing because it simply meant we had to climb up again. Finally, after much heavy work, we reached the Atherton Tableland, and, while far from flat, at least gave some relief to the really big hill climbs.
We settled in to a caravan park on the edge of the town. We used our stay in the caravan park to do the washing, fill a gas tank and stock up ready for the push up to Cape York. There were a few interesting sights on offer around the district, but these were left unvisited as steady persistent rain settled in. It rained through the night and all the next day. Atherton itself held little appeal, with dull and untidy streetscapes and terrible traffic, with attendant parking problems.
8-9 July, Mt Carbine – With the rain continuing, we headed off to drive north, and hopefully, into dryer conditions. The traffic was very heavy, mostly coming towards us, but still creating issues for those who wanted to pass us. By Mareeba, both the traffic and the rain had eased considerably and we started to relax and enjoy the scenery. The western edge of the Great Divide was on the right, with just a few isolated mountains to the left. When we dropped down off the Atherton Tablelands, the country became drier, with areas of open woodlands and dry grass dominating.
We stopped for morning tea at the Rifle Creek Rest Area, just north of Mount Molloy. This beautiful overnight rest area was nearly full of caravans and camper vans, with a few Jucy Vans as well. It was very popular, and no wonder, because it had hot showers and lots of good shade. Christine admired the large number of young men who were too “hot” to wear a shirt.
Our final stop for the day was Mt Carbine Caravan Park. This place had rave reviews and offered free storage of caravans for those people heading to the Cape. It is a charming place, spread over such a big area that you are not all pushed together, as in some places. Mt Carbine’ s reason for existence is a tungsten mine, currently operating with the new importance of rare earths in the World economy. The first mine was established around the time that the horse Carbine won the first Melbourne Cup, and the miners felt it would bring luck to use the name. Over the years, it has opened and close many times.
We used our time in Mt Carbine to prepare the car for travel to the Cape without the van. Everything needs to be questioned. We don’t fight about things, but I keep the pressure on.
10 July, Musgrave River – The road north was excellent, mostly across the Mt Carbine Tablelands before descending from the Great Divide for a while and through the plains of Lakelands and on to Laura. The drive was easy and we relished the chance to open up a bit without the van following along behind. The fuel economy was a delight (well that’s relative because it’s a Land Cruiser) and fuel prices remained sensible.
Not far out of Laura, we stopped at Split Rock, the site of a rock art gallery. It was only a 300 metre walk to the overhang, but that was up a steep incline, with stones as steps. Fortunately, the worst of it had a handrail, or I would have had to go on my own.
The gallery was quite good, but we have been spoilt a bit from living in the Kimberley, where some of the Wandjina galleries are truly spectacular. On the way up, we passed a group of around twenty coming down. They were part of a “tag-along” group where everyone drove their own vehicle under the supervision of a guide. We were to see them often along the way. Keeping everyone happy would be a huge job.
We had lunch under a mango tree (avoiding the parts housing a fruit bat colony) and chatted to a few of the tour group. “He goes too slow and keeps stopping for morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea etc”.
We pushed on to the Musgrave River Roadhouse to camp for the night. By this stage, we had had a few sections of unsealed road, but they were freshly graded and very smooth. Just before the roadhouse, we passed an incident that had police and ambulance in attendance. Later, we watch the RFDS helicopter land to upload a motor bike rider that had suffered some bad luck. There are a surprising number of people headed to the top on bikes, including one cyclist. You have to be tough.
Our camp set up went smoothly and proved comfortable, although a tad cold, as we are tropical but still well inland. After a beer at the bar, we headed back to our camp to watch the display nearby when the proprietor fed a group of eight freshwater crocodiles. He laid strips of meat across a piece of poly pipe to hand it out. If any got too close to him, he gave them a little tap with the pipe and they slid back.
11 July, Bramwell Station – We covered about 250km through the town of Coen to lunch at Archer River Roadhouse. By now, there was more unsealed than sealed sections, but all the roads were excellent. The traffic was quite heavy, with caravans making up about a third of the travellers. Although people are saying taking a van to the “top” these days is easy, they still suffer little bits of damage and certainly fill with dust, despite whatever systems people use. We were happy with our decision to leave the van behind.
Bramwell Station is a very successful tourist operation. The bar/restaurant does a set three course dinner every night for $45 and all 100 seats are regularly booked out. They provide some commentary and live music as well and so it is very popular with the tour groups. We stayed for a couple of drinks and chatted to a couple of girls who had been on the road since last September. We swapped lots of similar experiences and really enjoyed the evening. We headed home for a rather late dinner.
12 July, Alau Beach, Cape York – From Bramwell, we had two choices, straight ahead up the Old Telegraph Track (OTT) or head in a big eastwards arc up into the Great Divide and down again to reach the Jardine River Ferry crossing. It was actually a “no choice” decision. We looked at the OTT and it was barely the width of the car. Along its route were some horrific creek and river crossings. We are too old for that sort of thing, and so we set off along the Bamaga Road. The days of the graded roads were behind now, we saw no more in the way of road works and the corrugations gave us a beating in places.
The vegetation varied between open woodlands with towering eucalypts, to low scrubby heathland and the occasional patch of dense rainforest. There was everything and it was very beautiful. We reached the Jardine River Ferry at 12:10, to find they had shut down for lunch. No guide book or other information mentioned that, and no one else seemed to know about it either. At least we were first in line, a good thing because at 1:15 when they reopened, the line behind us was huge.
Across the river, a beautiful new road was being made, but we weren’t allowed on that, and smashed our way along the detour. Eventually, we reached a big bitumen highway for the last few kilometres into Bamaga. We had no bookings or firm ideas. The most popular place is Punsand Bay, closer to the tip, but it books out way in advance and we did not want to commit. We went to the supermarket and were shocked at how well stocked and relatively cheap things were, having had experience of remote communities that Elon Musk would battle to shop in. This one lacked for nothing, and there were more in some of the communities scattered around the Cape.
We researched what was available and drove out about 7kms to the little community of Umagico and Alao Beach. One look and we were happy, lovely grassed sites, a sand beach with rock outcrops, water taps and basic old, but clean, ablutions. A bonus was a swimming pool. The people were friendly and so we booked in for a couple of nights.
Once set up, we were bushed, so lay down for a kip. Just as we did so, the five family group next to us arrived home and their kids hit the pool. The noise was pretty bad. I can handle kids having fun, but I hate the ones that scream at every interaction. They had three of those kind. To be fair, the noise subsided around 7:30, but only because they had all gone for a walk. When they came back, most of the kids went to bed, but a few remained to keep going for another hour. They were normal enough people, there was just so many of them.
13 July, Alau Beach – The plan for the day was to get to the “Tip”, for a photograph with the old sign that proclaims the end of the continent. After all, it is the whole reason for coming up.
We drove along the coast to Seisia and then on through Bamaga to the Croc Hut, a famous outlet for Cape York merchandise. We bought a couple of shirts and a magnet. We are not usually too big on the tourist stuff but we needed something for the “photo shoot”. The next 20kms or so to the very top were mostly single land track through very dense rain forest. It was the heaviest forest I have seen in Australia, or anywhere for that matter. There were huge trees, vines, thick understorey and the occasional beautiful butterfly, including the famed brilliant blue Ulysses Butterfly.
At the end of the track was a car park with a beautiful coconut palm lined beach. The lady at the Croc Hut had told us we would have a bit of a walk over the rocks. Nothing looked obvious and there were no signs. We asked one guy who was making himself a coffee at the back of his car and he told us it was too late tide wise to walk around the beach the 400m to the tip, we would have to go up and over the rock outcrop. Out came the hiking sticks and we set off on yet another brutal climb. Several times we wondered whether we would make it. The upside was that the views were spectacular, especially from the cairn at the top that showed were 3526km from Perth. Encouraged by another group that said they had come along the beach behind the mangroves, we pushed on down the rock to finally reach the “tip”. We had our photos taken, took some for another group and set off to find the secret back way behind the mangroves. It was a 400m mostly flat track with a few small rocks. Bugger!
By the time we had driven home to camp we were wrecked, skipped the pool and crashed. Even after a kip, we were still zonked so we had another lie down to fully recover. We must be getting old. Still, we had done it! Reached Cape York.
14 July, Thursday Island – It was an early rise to have breakfast, drive 15 minutes to Seisia Wharf and catch the ferry to Thursday Island. We had purchased a round trip and bus tour package at $105 each. The ferry trip was on board a large and comfortable catamaran that hopped along at a good 18 knots. The Torres Strait contains over 270 islands, of which a mere 17 are inhabited. Thursday Island has a long history as a key administrative centre for the region, providing defence support, quarantine and customs facilities. Once the home of a thriving pearl industry, the island now acts as a service hub for the whole tip region and the islands beyond.
The ferry trip was interesting, the boat having to negotiate a series of narrow channels to reach TI, which is nestled in between a number of much larger islands. TI was chosen as the centre because it has a good deep water harbour. However, there is not enough room for an air strip, that being on nearby Horn Island.
We had a couple of hours to wait for our bus tour, so we did a slow walk along the foreshore, stopping at a lovely foreshore café for a coffee, which proved to be exceptionally good. There were a lot of disused buildings in evidence, but otherwise, the main street looked prosperous. We had both expected something like some of the WA or NT remote communities, but this was nothing like them. We saw happy people everywhere, and were greeted as we walked the streets with a beaming smile and “Hello”. The shops were well stocked and the prices looked to be typical of any rural town rather than a remote community.
The bus tour time arrived and we set off, under the direction of the driver, a local lady. Her knowledge of history was extraordinary, and she managed a continual informative spiel while driving the bus. We stopped at the battery up on a hill overlooking the town. It housed five 6 inch naval guns, placed in position for the Great War to counter possible German aggression. Only one was ever fired at a ship that failed to identify itself before being found to be a friendly. Underneath the fort was a complex of tunnels to deliver powder and ordnance, now transformed into a museum covering the history of the island. The guns themselves were spiked in the 1920s. but left in position and no doubt looked impressive to Japanese surveillance in World War II.
The island cemetery was reminiscent of that in Broome, with a large Japanese section housing the graves of the many Japanese divers who perished in the dangerous pearl diving operations.
After the bus tour, we went to the Grand Hotel and enjoyed a wonderful feed of barramundi and chips. We joined a couple who were visiting their son who was working on the island and had a good yarn.
The trip home was very relaxing and we both dozed a little. The day was a highlight and gave us some insight into the whole Torres Strait Island life and some appreciation of what it means to be a Torres Strait Islander.
15 July, Bramwell – During the night, the rain came. It was not heavy, certainly not by the standards here during the “wet”, but it was persistent. It was our first experience of rain with this tent, and we found that it had two issues. It let a few drops of water through. The water pooled in one part of the roof and needed emptying every thirty minutes to avoid collapse. I got little sleep until around 2am because I had to keep getting up and lifting the roof to drain the pooled water. Christine claims she was awake every time I got up but I think she was dreaming.
Finally, morning came, with only light drizzle. Everything was soaked, and we worried about the state of the road. Weather reports suggested only 8-10 mm overnight. We had a National Parks booking for the Eliot Falls Campground so we debated whether to pack up and risk it or stay another day and try to dry out. Eventually, we packed up and set off.
The first 50 kms or so were quite wet and the car got a good dose of mud covering everything. However, the road was firm enough and the rain had flattened some of the corrugations. As we progressed south, we drove through a couple of areas of quite heavy rain, but eventually drove into fine weather, and back to the bad corrugations. The road was generally in worse condition that on the trip up, with all the extra traffic taking its toll.
We had a bit of a queue at the ferry, sitting behind a truck carrying a van that had suffered a nasty suspension failure, making us very glad we had left ours behind.
We crossed the Jardine River Ferry and pushed on to the Eliot Falls turnoff. The track was only 8km, but we counted every one, with the speed limited to around 20km/hr. It was tough going. Finally we arrived at our camp for the night. We weren’t overly impressed. The camp sites were very variable and ours was one of the least appealing. We walked the 800m or so down to the falls themselves. They were interesting, but far from spectacular. Further more, they looked unappealing from a swimming point of view. We made the decision to ignore our booking and push on. Making National Park bookings and not using them is a major annoyance in the travelling community, but it is caused by the crazy booking system itself. You MUST book before hand, yet no internet exists at most sites. It forces people to book on spec. In this case, there were so few people there that it would not cause any issues, other than our loss of $15.
We drove south to Bramwell, putting the worst of the unsealed roads behind us. Rather than staying out at the station, we camped at the roadhouse, where the facilities are very modern and well maintained.
16 July, Musgrave River – We had an easy drive down to Musgrave River, stopping at Coen for a pie lunch. We ended up camped next to a young farmer couple from Victoria. He had just finished making and fitting out a camping canopy for his Land Cruiser dual cab ute. It was a superb job and we were very envious of it. Drinks at the bar and more swapping yarns with one of the workers who remembered us from our way up rounded out the afternoon.
17 July, Cooktown – With very little unsealed road left, we picked up speed and drove through Laura, and Lakelands to Cooktown. I was surprised at how dry the bush is right up to within a few kilometres of Cooktown, imagining an area of rainforest like Cairns. Obviously, the rain shadow effect of the mountains keeps the rain down, whereas Carins at least has a bit of a coastal plain. Cooktown itself is a pretty little town on the Endeavour River, and the site of where Cook careened the Endeavour to effect repairs after hitting the Great Barrier Reef. There are some marvellous old buildings in the main street. For some strange reason, the speed limit in the main street is 60, and they have forward angle parking. Backing out is a nightmare, with locals rushing through as you slowly inch out, blindsided by the large 4wds parked around you.
We tried to buy a cask of red wine, after the liquor restrictions of the Cape area, but found that local rules restrict sales until after 4pm. We filled the time at a car wash, getting the worst of the mud off the car. Then it was back into town and picked up a cask.
We stayed at a caravan park on the edge of town, carved out of a small patch of rain forest. To our horror, the cask was well and truly “off”.
18 July, Mt Carbine – As we left, we dropped back to the hotel with the cask. Fortunately, their rules allowed us to exchange because we had already purchased, and we set off with a new cask with an older use by date.
As we powered up the mountain range out of Cooktown, I saw that we were overheating badly. This is a rare event. Pulling over, there was nothing immediately apparent, but the radiator did take quite a bit of water, and things settled down. We couldn’t see any leaks, so we decided to push on, with Lakelands only 60km away. Fortunately, we had no further issues, but we will monitor things more closely in the future.
After a stop at Palmer River Roadhouse for fuel and lunch, we arrived back at Mt Carbine and our van. There were two more sitting next to ours. We hitched up, parked up and began the long process of transferring food and other stuff. The caravan fridge needs a good 12 hours to get cool, and there was quite a bit to do, so we booked two nights in, giving time to organise and do some much needed washing.
From here we will commence the journey south and then west to the Winton-Longreach area. We are very glad that we took the time to do the Cape. It is a real experience, one that is easily shared with other travellers. Apart from those travelling to Weipa for work, most people on the road are tourists and there is a real sense of comradeship at the camp spots, with everyone swapping experiences or places to go. Cape York is definitely not just about the destination. It is the journey.
After the cave exploring, we drove into Naracoorte itself, finding a very pretty town with lots of shopping and eateries lining the three main streets. It looked to have everything one could ask of a small rural town. A special feature was a swimming lake, a large pool up to two metres deep with an artificial beach, floating platforms and picnic areas. It was created in the 1960s and was a wonderful variation on the usual Olympic sized swimming pool for a town situated away from the coast.
Our apartment is really well located, at 220 Spencer St, right opposite the Skybus terminal at Southern Cross Station, making for an easy leave at the end of the week. It is a studio apartment on the 38th floor with all the necessary things, except a decent mattress. Why people leave sagging dead mattresses on beds in rentals is beyond me, it colours the whole review and rating when a couple of hundred buys an acceptable mattress from Ikea every year if needed. There was a sofa bed offering but they are terrible to sleep on so it ended up with the sofa bed mattress on the floor each night. Not ideal but the location makes up for it.
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