Today started like every other day on this trip – with Rohan rising before the sun. Rohan’s penchant for waking at dawn, combined with his love of company make for explosive mornings as he not-too-subtly tries to wake everyone in sight. Kylah, Jazzy & Isabelle, like their mother, enjoy sleeping late and will scream & screech at Rohan to choof off, in the process waking even more people (I’m sure that was his evil plan all along).

Mornings, when we have to pack up after being somewhere for a while, are always a pain in the butt. Everyone was grumpy (from being woken by Rohan) and Rohan, when faced with having to help out, suddenly remembered how sad he was about his dinosaur & sat down in the dirt bawling.

Jazzy, Kylah & Isabelle were great helpers, albeit very, very grumpy & snappy. So much so that Ben had to sit everyone down & threaten them with “no souvenirs” if they didn’t start getting along.

I think I mentioned in an earlier post that my mum, bless her soul, ever so kindly gave the kids souvenir money. This has resulted in a constant prattle out of the younger ones’ mouths… “when can we spend our money?”, “When will there be shops?”, “what’s a souvenir exactly?”, “Will we get to spend our souvenir money today???”.  When you are in the middle of nowhere, not a shop in sight, it’s enough to send you bonkers!!

The threat of losing their opportunity to purchase souvenirs made the kids toe the line & stop fighting.

It was only a short drive to our next destination, but it took a while due to river crossings & having to pump Frankie’s tyres up & down (so the pressure suited the road).

We arrived at magical Umagico at lunchtime & the kids fell instantly in love.  There are wild horses & dogs roaming the streets which apparently is my children’s idea of heaven.

We are staying at Alau Campgrounds, right on the beach. It is so stunningly beautiful. Our campsite faces Prince of Wales Island &  staring at it has made me long to visit my former island home, Horn Island. Originally we were going to take the kids to Horn Island on this trip, but then we decided to save going to the Torres Straits for another holiday.

Staring at the Torres Strait Islands, being so close to the place I used to call home, the place that changed my life & turned my world upside down – I knew I had to go back.

Not wanting to disrupt Ben’s well-thought-out itinerary, I kindly offered to visit Horn Island by myself for 1 night while he & the children continued on with the plans. This did not go down very well with the kids (there were tears galore and Isabelle threatened to start a revolt!!), but Ben was very supportive.

At Umagico I finally had reception, although only 1 bar of 3G. After wandering around the campground, and holding my phone up in the air, I finally managed to post my blog. Would you believe that seconds after I posted it a friend messaged me saying that she had seen a post about someone finding a toy dinosaur near Coen!! What are the chances?!? To say Rohan is delighted is an understatement but the ones who are most thrilled are Ben & me as we don’t have to listen to him whinge anymore.

Rohan saved up his pocket money to buy that dinosaur (which is a big deal for a kid who can’t save & wants everything yesterday). He was originally saving for an iPad but had a change of heart & instead ordered this toy off eBay at a greatly inflated price as they are no longer sold in toy shops. He plays with it all the time.

The lady who found it is going to meet up with us in a few days & return it to him.

All the locals at Umagico are so welcoming and lovely. Local kids asked my kids to play with them after school, which they did till dark fell and everyone we’ve met is so friendly. You really couldn’t ask for a nicer place. Rohan and Isabelle are already making plans to move here when they fly the nest. The lure of stray animals roaming the streets is too intoxicating to them. Never mind that the three dogs who have made themselves at home near our campsite are ridden with fleas. The kids have adopted and named them & will not listen to Ben & I when we tell them to leave the dogs alone.

All the kids slathered up in Stingoes insect cream tonight as they are all covered in flea bites. I loved smugly telling them “I told you so”, whilst reading my book & refusing to assist with the application of the cream. Don’t think the flea bites will keep them away from the animals though.

Everyone, bar Ben, has come to the conclusion that I am a secret genius & that the beekeeper get-up I wear is an awesome idea. The kids all want me to buy them fly nets, next time we are near a BCF. The long pants & shirt thing isn’t catching on though.

Tomorrow we are going to the Northern most point of Australia.  Ben has just informed me that I have to go to sleep because he is waking me early. Bloody brilliant.

Thanks for reading!!

B xx

Today we made it to the Northern most point of Mainland Australia. Hoorah!!!!! Even though I’ve made the pilgrimage to the top twice before, I was still excited about doing it this time with my many offspring.

Memory is such a fickle thing. The last two times I made the voyage, I remember a short, easy walk over a few rocks. No biggie. This time I did it, it felt like a treacherous trek up a steep Rocky Mountain in 200km strong winds. Maybe it’s because I’m older….. or maybe it’s because having 4 children in tow makes any task seem a lot more arduous.

For example, Isabelle had conveniently forgotten to put shoes on or bring a hat. So she was trekking to the tip with no hat & no shoes. I know, I know. I should have made sure she had them. But I was flat out trying to organise myself, lunch & everyone else.

Midway through the hike, Isabelle announced that she needed to do a wee. “Tough”, I told her. “You’ll have to hold it.” About 2 minutes later Isabelle started doing what we call her “wee-wee” walk. A wee-wee walk is a type of walk you do when bladder/pelvic muscles are not sufficient to stop you from peeing, and you have to engage thigh muscles as well. This walk usually ends in disaster as in order to get your pants down to wee, you have to disengage the thigh muscles & as a result, everything immediately starts flowing.

I pulled Isabelle to the side of the track & tried to help her get her pants down. In the process, her pants & my hands became soaked in pee & I made the discovery that not only had she forgotten her hat & shoes, but she had also forgotten underwear. As she was in the process of ever-so-elegantly doing her business, a tour group of elderly people came marching past.

I felt like the mother of the year as the disapproving looks were shot our way.  Isabelle had flea-bitten legs, wild unkempt hair (from the wind – I had braided it but she took it out so it could blow in the wind), no undies & no shoes. She flatly refused to put her shorts back on because they were wet with wee and she happily skipped on ahead of me, much to the horror of Rohan.

I did eventually convince her to put her shorts back on. Just in the nick of time too because Rohan looked like he was about to burst a vein in his neck from the stress of naked Isabelle ruining every aspect of his holiday.

After returning to the car park, I plonked myself down on the beach with my book & declined to participate in Ben’s expedition of Somerset Beach. The kids tried to politely decline as well, but unfortunately for them, Ben deemed it a compulsory activity.

To me beaches are nice. But a beach is a beach no matter where you are. It was a very beautiful beach, and I did snap a few selfies with it in the background, but it’s still just a beach.  A beach where you not only have to worry about sharks, blue bottles & sand in your pants…  but crocodiles as well.

My idea of a good day out is to get to the destination, take a couple of pics (to add to your blog) then return back to camp to relax. Ben’s idea of a good day is to meander to a destination checking every single side track to “see where it goes”, spend ages memorising the sight of the said destination, then explore every single thing in a 1km vicinity of your destination on foot.

Our way home was broken up by Ben driving up random treks here & there to discover rubbish tip after rubbish tip. Luckily I didn’t have to complain about it as the kids did all the complaining for me.

We stopped off on the way home at the Croc Tent so the kids could finally spend their souvenir money. We were in there forEVER. It took every ounce of persuasiveness I had to convince the younger kids to buy shirts instead of fluffy toys. I didn’t want to say “No toys!!!”, as I revel in being the fun parent, but I didn’t want them to buy toys either.  The Croc Tent is good, but as is typical up here, horrendously overpriced.  To Ben’s credit, he did not flinch a muscle when our total was rung up (I’m pretty sure his left eye was twitching though).

Back at camp Ben & I with the kids watched the sunset over the water, a joy that is not enjoyed by East Coast dwellers very often. Ben talked about all the exploring that was going to happen tomorrow while I was off visiting Horn Island, and I feigned disappointment at missing out while inwardly crying “Hoorah!!! Hoorah!! Hoorah!!” I swear in a past life Ben was one of those famous Aussie Explorers we are forced to learn about in primary school and then promptly forget.

At the moment I am on the boat heading to Thursday Island, and I am tickled with excitement!! Not even Rohan breaking down with grief at our imminent separation as we said our goodbyes on the wharf could marr my delight. He clung to the railing on the wharf refusing to leave me. Ben had to pry him off & carry him away. Poor little fella. But yay me!!!! 😃😃😃

I’m sure I’ll have lots to write about tomorrow after my 24 blissful hours spent back on Horn Island catching up with friends.

Thanks for reading!!! We are having a brilliant time!! (Especially me today!!!!!)

B xx

A few pics of my traumatic departure this morning.

I have had the BEST 24 hours. By far, the highlight of my trip so far has been returning to Horn Island, a place I called home back in 2001/2002 as a freshly qualified teacher.

My time spent on Horn Island was probably the most profound period of my life, full of so many ups and downs.

When I arrived on Horn Island, I was a 21-year-old hopelessly naive, sheltered and idealistic girl who was majorly overindulged. All through uni, I lived at home & still had my mum make my bed & pack my lunch for me.  My family was very close-knit, and I had a wonderful group of protective and wise friends surrounding me.

So you can imagine how shell-shocked I was to move over 2000km away from my little protective bubble & have to figure life out all on my own. It didn’t help that one week after arriving here, my grandfather, whom I was extremely close to, passed away suddenly, leaving me wracked with grief.

Moving to the Torres Straits was a choice I made when I finished my degree. I wasn’t sent there against my will. I was drawn to the Straits and had actively sought out a position there and was thrilled to be offered a job.

As you can imagine, my first few weeks on Horn Island were extremely difficult as I suffered terribly from homesickness and felt very lost and alone. Not for long though, as the community quickly adopted me and took me under their wing, treating me like family.

My students weren’t just my pupils; I thought of them like nieces & nephews and loved every single one of them to bits. To this day, I can name every single one of my Horn Island students & my memory of them is so vivid. In comparison, I barely remember any of the students I taught in my years teaching in Brisbane schools (with the exception of a special few).

I have followed the lives of the kids on Horn Island with such pride and love hearing about what they are up to.

I had made arrangements to catch up with some of the teachers, one of whom was like a sister to me, and an elder, Mrs Doolah, who showed me great kindness and was so supportive of me in my time on the Island, but I hadn’t organised to see any students as I wasn’t sure they’d remember me – they were so little when I left!!

So I was thrilled to bits to run into one of my students on the ferry yesterday and delighted when she said she’d assemble some of our class for a catch-up for dinner. I was over the moon!!!!!

To say the Torres Straits is spectacularly beautiful is an understatement. The water here is 50 shades of turquoise, and the scenery is vividly and strikingly breathtaking.

I am now sadly sitting on the ferry on my way back to Seisa to see Ben & the kids. Ben is whisking me off to some remote place with no reception again tonight, so I will be awol again for a while.

Nestled in my lap is a bag of lobster tails one of my students sent down to the jetty for me at 5:30am this morning when I left. I’m feeling very nostalgic and teary at the moment.

I am so honoured to have taught in this magical place. It gave me so many wonderful experiences, lifelong friends & family and, of course, it was the place where I met Ben.

I’d better sign off now before this blog post gets any sappier. I am already wanting to return here very soon with Ben & the kids!!

Thanks for reading!!

B xx

My beloved Grade 1 class – all grown up!!!!

My old house. My late dad & I planted the frangipani trees you see in the background.

Simur Chicken!!!!! An island recipe that has never tasted as good when I have attempted to cook it since leaving.

Watching the sunrise from the ferry as I make my way back to the mainland.

This is going to be a very short blog post as today has been extremely uneventful. Our day is as exciting as the blog post title alludes.

We hightailed it out of Seisa and spent the day travelling, stopping briefly for lunch at Bramwell Station. Bramwell Station is the last place you can get fuel before embarking on the old telegraph track Nth bound and good old Bramwell uses this fact to his utmost advantage, charging 50 cents more a litre for diesel than most other service stations around the Cape. This is not due to being extra remote as there are other service stations that are more remote that charge a lot less.  Ben was none too happy to pay $2.00 a litre for fuel there when we were heading North.

We stopped in at Bramwell today only because it was the only place around at lunchtime & we hadn’t planned anything for lunch.  All the comments I’ve read on Bramwell Station are either horrendously negative (expensive fuel, expensive everything) or are gushingly positive reviews of its burgers. We decided, in fairness, to try out the burgers in order to form a balanced opinion.

Six burgers cost a small fortune. I’ve spent less taking the kids to dinner at the Hilton (I can’t disclose the cost cause Ben would faint from shock if he knew). They were okay. Pretty much a beef patty sandwiched between a bread roll with some onion, cheese & a bit of old salad. Perhaps if you’d been living off crap camping food (baked beans etc.) you might declare it to be “the best burger you’ve ever eaten!!” but we’ve been eating like kings, thanks to my forward menu planning & Dreampot.  So nope. I’m not a fan of Bramwell. Its only redeeming or interesting feature is its collection of old number plates and flushable toilets.

We arrived in Coen this afternoon & Ben diligently made a few adjustments & tweaks to his favourite creation, Frankie.

I busied myself hand washing sheets, blankets & clothes & organising the kids.

Poor old Kylah stepped on hot coals & has burned the bottom of her foot. I gleefully grabbed one of the 3 first aid kits (that Ben declared overkill) and lovingly cared for her injured foot, applying all the knowledge I acquired in my first aid course. After I had dressed the burns, all the kids enviously inspected my handiwork (pretty sure they all thought it was totally worth it to step on hot coals cause you get such lavish dressings tentatively applied to your foot).

Tomorrow we are going to Lakefield National Park. Apparently, it has the largest Croc population in Nth Qld. We are booked in for 4 nights void of mobile coverage, but I’ve already threatened to pull the plug at 3. There will be lots of wetlands, mozzies, crocodiles & zero swimming opportunities.

To be honest, I’m in a bit of a rut at the moment. I’m a tad homesick & over everything being covered in red dirt.  But I’m trying to be a good sport & am mustering the highest level of enthusiasm that could possibly be believable when one is faced with 4 days camping in a mozzie-infected swamp.

Hopefully my next post, in 4 days’ time, will be about how wrong I was (as is often typical) and how spectacularly beautiful the place was. I also hope that I do not have to report back that anyone has been taken by a crocodile.

Thanks for reading!!!

B xx

P.S. Rohan is 100% determined to uproot us all so he can live in Umagico. He made BFFs with some local kids there & fit in really well with them. Ben said the boys came & got Rohan yesterday afternoon & they all just took off playing. The kids even tried to teach him some of their language. Rohan now has a new pen pal & a burning desire to return really soon!
PICTURES!!

My careful handiwork applying OTT dressings, creams etc to Kylah’s burns:

Bramwell Burgers: (don’t let Rohan’s cheerful face fool you, that kid’ll eat anything so long as it doesn’t contain butter or cheese)

Rohan’s dirty foot & Isabelle looking once again like no one owns her (at least she’s clothed!).

1. A selection of pictures Ben took yesterday while exploring with the kids:

Lakefield National Park is like a magnet for fishermen, crocodile enthusiasts and bird watchers alike. Three activities that I find mind-numbingly boring. So my apprehension about spending 4 nights here was justly warranted. Miraculously Lakefield National Park had one major drawcard that made me fall instantly in love with it – It is almost completely and eerily lacking in flies and mozzies – my two great enemies who have conspired to ruin almost every aspect of this holiday for me. Amazingly, despite the abundance of the buggers, I have managed to so far avoid having a single insect bite – ANYWHERE ON MY BODY!! I think this is a feat that proves that I am far superior and gifted in the areas of diligence and commitment than I am usually given credit for. Ben admiringly says’s “When my own personal comfort is at stake, there is no cutting corners. For everything else, however, near enough is good enough”. (I’m positive this is a compliment…)

We had booked to stay at a campsite called Mick Fienn camping area, site 4. This spot was chosen due to its availability, not because of its location or reviews, so I was completely suspicious. All the other campsites were booked out except this one – not a great sign. Driving in, the bush ranged from dry and scrubby to burnt out and prickly with pockets of greenery around the numerous billabongs and creeks.

Thankfully our campsite gained my approval. It is secluded, flat and clear. It is also up an embankment from the nearby creek, leaving us with a gorgeous view and access to fresh water, but not in any danger of wandering crocodiles. We are so remote and secluded, that you can wander around nude without fear of any other human being stumbling upon you (Much to Isabelle’s delight and Rohan’s dismay). We didn’t bother to erect the shower tent and instead have been showering each night naked under the stars. Ben bravely collects creek water which we then heat up before running a 12-volt pump from the car to the shower head, which is attached to a gum tree, not far from our camper trailer. Bliss!!
The one downfall is that the campsite is very dusty and what little grass there is dead and bristly. Isabelle and Rohan have adjusted brilliantly to this new lifestyle. So much so, that if you happened to come upon them and had no prior knowledge of who they were or where they were from, you might surmise that they had been born in the bush and had never even been in the vicinity of a shower or washing machine, let along used one. Their clothes are so stained that I have resigned myself to the fact that on our return home, I will just transfer all of the clothes in their bags to the area in Ben’s shed that is occupied by rags. On the upside, I won’t have as much washing to do!! Their skin is so stained with dirt that I find myself wondering whether they are getting very tanned, or just have a perpetual layer of dirt on them that doesn’t scrub off.

Yesterday we went Croc hunting, and I realised why all my prior Croc hunting pursuits ended in failure. In the two years I spent on Horn Island, which is apparently an island surrounded by the beasts, I partook in many the Croc hunting adventure. These hunts always involved lots of alcohol (to fuel our bravery), cigarettes (calm our nerves), Crunchie Icecreams (cause they are delicious) and a green 4wd (so we’d blend into the bush) but never produced so much as a glimpse of a crocodile. If it had not been for the dead crocodile I stumbled across on the jetty one Saturday morning, with a spear hanging out its back, I might have come to the conclusion that there were no crocodiles in the Torres Straits and it was all a big conspiracy to scare the living daylights out of me and prevent me from enjoying those beautiful turquoise beaches.

Yesterday our mission did not end in failure. We drove around from Billabong to creek to river in search of them and managed to spot 2. We had our best success at a beautiful spot called 7 Mile Creek. I hopped out of the car, along with the rest of the gang, admired the beauty of the creek with its lily pads and flowers, snapped a few pictures of the kids, and then hopped back into the car to read my Kindle. Ben stealthy approached the bank (not too close) bent down silently and looked. And looked. And looked. Finally, he said to the kids “Oi! Give me the binoculars! I’ve got one!”. I at this point jumped back out of the car, and my interest was finally piqued. Ben explained the spot he was looking at, and I could just make out the very slowly moving eyes. I could have sat on the bank of that river for a million years and not been able to spot on my own what Ben was able to see. It seems that to make a good croc hunter (hunter in the sense of feeling triumphant when finding one, not actually killing them) you need to have a lot of patience and keen observation skills. Two areas where I am completely and utterly deficient.

The kids were all thrilled that they had seen a crocodile in the wild and I was thrilled that I wouldn’t have to listen to them harp on about seeing a crocodile in the wild (and also that I’d finally seen one after years of failure). My delight was short-lived however as Rohan almost instantly switched over to harping on about seeing a Cassowary in the wild, or if not in the wild then he wanted to have a Cassowary encounter at the Kuranda Bird Place (I’m sure it has a proper name but that’s what he calls it so we’ll go with that).

Today was spent lazing about the campsite. The kids were presented with two options: go to Bathurst Head (an un-swimmable but beautiful beach that was a 2-hour drive each way) or hang about at camp. They went with the latter.  It was quite a nice day. Kids alternated between playing together so nicely that it made my heart swell and screaming blue murder at each other. I’ve decided that the card game “Go Fish!” will not be played when I am around as it inevitably ends with screaming matches because someone (Rohan) is cheating. Ben played a game called “Spot It” with the kids, and they were all in fits laughing. They also played games like “What’s the Time Mr Wolf?” and “44 Home”. Thankfully everyone left me to my own devices today, and I was able to do a TON of reading.
I have loved reading this trip and have read more on my Kindle in the last 3 weeks, than I have in the last 3 years. At the moment I am halfway through a book called “Arctic Adventures” that was written by a Dutchman in the early 1900s. He lived with Inuit tribes and describes their lifestyle – it’s absolutely fascinating how they lived.

Today I had another opportunity to make good use of my First Aide kits. Kylah has a bad case of “Imissmyanimalsitis”, and I had to get my brand new thermometer out to prove she didn’t have a temperature and was just hot because it is really bloody hot here. Rohan hurt his toe and unfortunately wanted me to dress it for him. All the saline solution in the world couldn’t have cleaned his foot up enough to get a bandaid to stick but to stop him whinging, and because it was a nasty cut right in his toe crevice, I did my best. The bandaid stuck to it for about 30 seconds, but apparently, that is enough for the magic of the placebo to take effect.

Tomorrow we move on to Cooktown, and I’m excited to make use of a proper washing machine. All this hand washing is driving me bonkers. I’m also excited to hopefully be able to purchase some fresh fruit. The kids have been living on dried apples, apricots, blueberries and mangoes and the smells they have been producing (in the confines of our car) are enough to make you wretch and gag. They have completely eaten us out of dried fruits, all that is left is a packet of prunes, and I’m not game to let them loose on them!
I’m going to miss the serenity and seclusion that this campsite has given us. It has been a very relaxing few days.

Thanks for reading!!

B xx

P.S. Jazzy has been an absolute delight!! Not whingy, sick or dirty. Which is why she hasn’t had a feature story.

We left Lakefield National Park early in the morning and made our way to Laura, a town about 80km away (2 hours driving on dirt tracks).  Ben had initially planned for us to spend two nights at Laura, but due to poor reviews on Wikicamps (an app you can get where people review caravan parks and free campsites updated daily – Bianca’s camping bible) I pulled the plug on Laura and added an extra night to our stay in Cooktown, and an extra night to our stay at Noah Beach, in the Daintree.

The only thing I really wanted to do in Laura was visit Split Rock, to view the 15000-year-old indigenous rock art and we figured out we could do that en route to Cooktown.  The rock art at Split Rock does not disappoint.  It is stunningly preserved and tells a story of a time long ago.  The caves are a short walk from the car park, a mere 300m to be exact, but that 300 m are up a steep climb which, with 4 hungry children in tow can feel like you’re attempting to reach the base camp of Mt Everest.  You need to put $5 per person into an honesty box so make sure you take cash with you if you plan to visit someday.   Photos are not allowed to be taken in the cave galleries so unfortunately I can’t add any to my blog.  I did try to seek permission to take some but couldn’t get a hold of anyone.  There are pictures of rock art in books and on Google search so if you are interested in seeing them look it up!

We arrived at Cooktown early afternoon, and the kids were delighted to find that Mummy had booked for us to stay in a Big 4.  Hooray!!  Call me what you like, but I LOVE Big 4’s.  Big 4’s are a 4-star camping chain that are located in every touristy location Australia has to offer.  You can rely on them to always have clean and modern amenities, campsites that pack you in like sardines in a tin, a total lack of campfire pits, forced powered sites (the last two we’ve stayed in do not have an unpowered section meaning you have to pay for the power that you do not wish to use) and they charge like wounded bulls.   Some of them like to charge a standard nightly fee for two adults $59, then $15 extra PER CHILD!!!!  That mean’s that we are paying $120 a night to use a tiny patch of grass!!!!!  Ridiculous! But I love them nonetheless due to reason 1, clean and modern amenities.  The kids love them because sometimes they have a pool or water park, jumping pillows and playgrounds.

You know how people love Mcdonald’s because of its uniformity?  It tastes exactly the same at every restaurant you go to, and even though it’s not great, definitely not nutritious or good value for money, it’s a safe choice because you know exactly what you are going to get.  There is no risk involved.  That’s how I feel about Big 4’s.  Quite often I can get a bit anxious about going to new campgrounds.  I think I’m traumatised from a time we stayed at a dirty free campsite out the back of a pub at Winton.  The bathroom there reminded me of that scene from Trainspotting where the bloke starts hallucinating in an abhorrently dirty bathroom (seriously it’s the stuff nightmares are made of).  I started sweating and hallucinating on entering this bathroom at Winton and slowly backed out, trying in vain to exit without touching a single solitary thing, even the door which I quite skilfully opened with my foot.  With Big 4’s, I know what I’m going to get and sometimes there is comfort in familiarity, especially for anxious people with toilet phobias.

In fact, if you enjoy reading this blog, then you really have Big 4 to thank for it as my main aim for doing it was not just to keep family and friends up to date on our travels but to develop a cult following that would allow me to tell Big 4’s that I was a successful travel blogger and then proceed to negotiate with them on how many extra children I had to pay for.  I haven’t quite figured out how many followers make someone a ‘successful travel blogger’, but I’m assuming it is more than what I currently have – which is still an amount in the single digits.

Driving into Cooktown Big 4 kids and I were cheering.  The bathrooms were impeccable (I’m choosing to overlook the fact that they are unisex bathrooms on account of the cleanliness.  I don’t like unisex toilets.  I’ve even tried to make my own ensuite at home ‘ladies only’, but bloody Rohan keeps overlooking the rule.  Ben happily goes elsewhere… mostly). The only thing that marred my immense joy was the knowledge that Ben feels about as comfortable and happy in a Big 4 as I did in the dirty toilet block in Winton.  I’m sure if we weren’t spending an exorbitant price per night, he might be slightly more comfortable.

The campsite we were put on is ridiculously small.  You can barely fit the camper trailer, AND the car on it and your neighbours are about 2 metres away.    Ever the ‘glass is half full’ type of person I happily used this opportunity to make new friends with our neighbours (so they don’t complain about the noise that radiates from our campsite) and don’t mind at all being in a cosy little space.  I should add as well that the Big 4 in Cooktown was not as expensive as some of the others.  It was only $49 a night for 2 adults and $5 a night per extra kid.  With my Big 4 membership, I got 10% off leaving our bill at just over $60 a night.  Not too shabby I reckon but a huge jump from the $25 a night we pay for national park camping.

The caravan park has a real rainforest vibe to it, and we are sandwiched in between two flowering paperbark trees, which give off a sweet nectar smell.  The overwhelming nectar scent both entrances and repulses me, depending on my mood and whether I’m feeling earthy or city.  The fruit bats that call these trees home have been driving me nuts at night time.  Noisy little buggers screech all night long.  On top of this, a bandicoot has been making himself at home in our kitchen area, loudly going about his business with no regard to conventional sleep times as soon as we go to bed.

Our first day in Cooktown was spent going to Hopevale and Elim Beach.  I will leave my review of Cooktown for the next blog, as I feel it deserves its very own entry.

Hopevale was a lovely, picturesque indigenous community just North of Cooktown.  We needed to stop in there to ask permission to visit Elim Beach, and I’m so glad we did!!  Hopevale has a new cultural and arts centre with a little shop attached.  We were invited in to watch some indigenous artists at work, and they happily talked to the kids and patiently answered Rohan’s questions.  Rohan has become enamoured with Indigenous culture and has been lapping it up big time on this trip.  I think he would be suited to their traditional, nomadic lifestyle and wants to learn all he can about the culture.

Elim Beach is spectacularly beautiful.  I know, I know….. I need to find some new adjectives to use instead of spectacular.  I promise I’ll think harder tomorrow.  As we were driving into Elim Beach Jazzy commented that the surrounding hills looked like they had snow on them.  This was due to the white sand.  As we drove up the beach, the sand dunes were a rainbow of colours, from black at the base to warm yellows, oranges and dusty reds.  There was spring water spewing out from the sand everywhere, leading to an extremely unique display of flora on the beach.  Trees and bushes that are not usually seen in beachy, saltwater areas, were sprouting up in the sand dunes due to the abundance of spring water.  The kids found a spot on the beach where water was coming out of the rocks like a mini fountain.  We all had a drink from it.  Ben declared it to be the best water he has ever tasted.  Me, being quite the water connoisseur (I could probably do a whole blog about my skills as a water taster) found it to taste quite minerally.  It was not to my liking, but I definitely appreciated the fact that it was there.

Living at Elim Beach is a 92-year-old elder named Eddie who is the guardian and protector of the land.  I really wanted to have a yarn with him as apparently, he likes a chat, but when we went to visit him, he wasn’t there.  I can imagine with its abundance of fresh water, fish life and flora it would have made a perfect place for indigenous Australians to live and must have a very rich history – which I would have loved to hear about.  Will definitely have to return another time and make sure we are able to meet with Eddie.

We had a picnic on the beach, and the kids explored the area and played happily in the sand.  We went for a walk then Ben and the kids had a 500m race back up the beach to our car.  If any of the kids won the race, the prize was a Mars Bar Icecream for everyone (they were in the freezer in the back of Frankie).  If Ben won the race, then the kids had to wait till we were back at camp, in the vicinity of their toothbrushes, till they could have their ice cream.  Amazingly, Ben did not win!!  He reckoned that he was trying his hardest, the well-being of his children’s dental health at stake, but he just couldn’t beat Jazzy.  Unfortunately for the kids, they didn’t beat Ben either.  Ben and Jazzy finished in a dead tie.  Rohan started off like a firecracker and quickly tapped out.  Isabelle isn’t really into sweet foods, so she put in a half-hearted effort and her running turned into skipping before the 20m mark.  Kylah and Jazzy were both in the lead for 75% of the race, but Ben steadily gained on them, and Jazzy was the only one left with any endurance to keep up with him for the last 50m.

The kids and Ben reached a compromise and agreed that the Mars Bar Icecreams could be eaten at our next location.  Halfway between then and home.  As we devoured our Mars Bar Ice Creams, we all thought about my dad, who was Mars Bar’s number one fan.

We also visited Isabella Falls.  Isabelle was over the moon to find a place that bore her name (sort of), and of course, Rohan was devastated that there were no Rohan Falls.  The falls were quite lovely and looked very enticing, but we did not have time for a swim.  Kids happily posed for photos, and I managed to get one of them all smiling!!!  (this is a massive feat when you have multiple children.  It’s a very rare occasion when they are all feeling cheery and happily comply when you say “Say cheese!!”)

I’d better sign off now.  Ben is going off to have a shower, and I need to ensure he has shoes on.  Ben does not believe shoes to be a necessity in public showers and will happily “forget” unless I spend a good ten minutes every night nagging him and talking about foot fungi.

Thanks for reading!!  Hope you enjoy the pics to accompany this blog.

B xx

One of the flowering paperbark trees at our campsite.

The hike up to see the rock art.

Sibling ❤️❤️❤️

Isabelle & her namesake falls. Rohan looking on in envy.

Jazzy about to drink from the spring water at Elim Beach

Before I start harping on about how much I LOVE Cooktown (It’s true, I’ve found the place I want to retire to!!) I should start by saying that before this trip, all I knew about Cooktown was that it was named after Captain Cook for some reason that I could never understand, or bother to find out.  (actually, I’m sure I learned about it in school and also taught about it when I was a teacher, but it is one of those tidbits of information that exists temporarily in my mind as I have no useful need to hang on to it).

Whilst travelling around Cape York, we’ve been listening to Audible books.  I downloaded the app Audible and bought a few “educational” books that I thought I could force the kids to listen to and then claim that that was their history/science lessons covered.  One of the books I bought was called “Girt” by David Hunt, and it is a hilarious account of Australian History.  Ben and I have loved listening to it.  The kids, not so much.

While listening to the book Girt, I finally found out why Cooktown was named after Captain Cook.  After “discovering” Botany Bay (I say “discovering” as Indigenous Australians technically were the first to “discover” it some 65000 years ago, then the Chinese & Dutch also happened upon our shores centuries before Cook), he sailed up the East Coast in order to map it.  Around Cooktown, he ran into some reef and became stuck there for a period of time while he fixed the boat.  So really, it was the only part of Australia that Cook ever spent any period of time living on.

Cooktown was founded in 1873 as a port to support all the mining towns that were cropping up all over Cape York.  Back in the late 1800’s it was a booming town which Ben told me had 140 pubs!! I  did question the accuracy of this information (I don’t even think Brisbane City has 140 pubs!), but Ben assured me that whatever source he found this information from was completely legitimate.

The whole town has a real colonial vibe.  I love it.  The roads are extra wide (to account for all the horses & buggies), and there are a lot of original buildings from the 1880s.  It is surrounded by beautiful beaches and has glorious views.  It also radiates that small-town charm and friendliness that good old suburbia lacks.  It has all the modern comforts of a bigger city:  cheaper fuel, IGA that’s reasonable, a hospital, library, bowling clubs, botanic gardens etc., without the shallow emptiness that bigger cities can sometimes ooze.

Whilst here, we have visited the Captain Cook museum, which I found to be very interesting and worthwhile, been to the local bowls club for dinner with our new friends (who we met as they were sandwiched beside us at the Big 4), visited the picturesque botanic gardens, wandered around town and explored the local area.

I love, love, love Cooktown.  Eventually, I want to move here.  That way, I’ll be closer to Rohan and Isabelle when they move to Umagico.

I had so much I wanted to write about Cooktown, but all thoughts I’d had have vanished from my head, so I might leave it here before I begin to waffle even more.

Tomorrow we are heading off to the Daintree for 3 nights.  We are going back to National Park Camping as the NP camping at the Daintree (Noah Beach) has far better reviews on Wikicamps than any of the other campgrounds. God, I love Wikicamps.

Thanks for reading, and a special thanks to everyone who has been leaving comments!!  They are the highlight of my day sometimes.

B xxx

The kids outside James Cook Museum, which was originally a convent built in the late 1800s.

Just one of the many colonial buildings in Cooktown.

Jazzy overlooking the Bay (whose name eludes me – Ben will correct me in the morning)

We left Cooktown this morning and began a slow meander to Cape Tribulation, with plenty of stops on the way.

Our pack-up this morning was a disaster and took almost two hours. If we are all organised and motivated, we can be on the road within 20 minutes of waking up. However, on mornings when we are all feeling sluggish, it can feel like it takes most of the day. This morning was one of those days. Jazzy and Isabelle had decided to sleep in the same bed together the night before, as Isabelle has been having bad dreams. I had strong suspicions that it would be a disaster but went along with the plan as there are far too many killjoys in our family already and I relish in my position as the family “fun rule breaker”.

My suspicions were correct. It was a disaster. Jazzy kicked Isabelle out of bed at about 11:30pm and then Isabelle proceeded to cry loudly and intermittently for the rest of the night. I’m sure the neighbours that were sandwiched in beside us at the Big 4 could hear every single thing. From Isabelle crying to Ben & Kylah’s swearing (Kylah didn’t technically swear as she does not break rules. But she said things like “oh for fudge’s sake!” which is pretty darn close) and me singing a very bad rendition of a Carpenters song that goes “Why do birds suddenly appear, every time, you are near… just like me, they long to be close to you” to Isabelle to try to soothe/torture her to sleep.

To escape my singing, Ben took himself off to the toilet sometime after midnight, muttering under his breath about how if we were in a national park he would be able to pee on a nearby tree instead of trudging 300m to a toilet block. He was gone for a while, and in that time I had managed to get Isabelle back to sleep with my singing. On his return from the toilets, however, he excitedly woke up all the children and forced them out of bed to accompany him back to the bathroom to see a 3-metre python. I wasn’t invited on the snake viewing expedition and was very thankful that I was not as I find it difficult to come up with excuses in the middle of the night. All of my pre-memorised, middle-of-the-night excuses do not relate to snake viewings.

As a result of the midnight shenanigans, packing up was a long, whingy, noisy and arduous task peppered with bouts of inconsolable crying and under-breath swearing. Nonetheless, we were on the road by about 10am.

Everyone had perked as we pulled into our first stop, Black Mountain, which was not far out of Cooktown. Black Mountain is a huge mountain that is covered in black rocks, some tiny, some the size of huge boulders. I was keen to find out how this mountain formed, and the kids were keen to climb all over the rocks. The mountain was formed about 260 million years ago and was originally a mass of molten magma that cooled to be hard granite. Then something happened (I can’t remember what happened) leading to stress fractures that water penetrated. After that, there was something about clay somewhere/somehow that eroded away leaving a mountain of boulders/rocks. Kids clamoured all over the nearby rocks, not going too far as people are not permitted in the Black Mountain National Park. According to local legend, there is a Qld tiger that lives in Black Mountain, and there have been many mountaineers that have gone missing whilst attempting to explore the area. Kids posed for a series of photos, and we moved on to our next destination.

The next stop was Little Annan Gorge for a bit of a sticky beak. It was quite beautiful and would have been the perfect spot for a quick dip, but we were behind schedule so we merely snapped a few photos before continuing on.

Lions Den Hotel was third on our list of places to visit. It is a bit of a legend in the area and has a real Aussie Outback Vibe to it. People have scrawled messages all over every bit of the wall in the place, and they have a little museum attached where you can look at period bits and bobs. After wandering around the place for a little while Ben decided he needed a coffee, his first one on this trip. By this stage, it was about 11:30 so I thought that I’d buy some hot chips for the kids, save me making them eat tinned tuna for lunch – again.

Rohan accompanied me up to the counter while I ordered and the lady serving told me that they do not start cooking lunches till after 12. Tears sprung up in Rohan’s eyes (we had missed morning tea so he was starving). The waitress quickly told him that they sell pizzas before 12 in order to cheer him up. He asked “Do they have cheese on them?” in a quivering voice. I suspect that the waitress probably assumed he liked cheese because she answered with “Yes. LOTS of cheese!” At this poor Rohan’s tears turned into choked-out sobs. Pushing him aside I ordered a pizza for everyone bar Rohan to share, and Ben’s coffee. Rohan continued to bawl for the next 10 minutes until the poor bewildered waitress bought the pizza out, and then his bawling turned into howling. I guess she must have felt bad because she soon returned with chips for him. Tears dried up instantly.

Next on the agenda was the start of the Bloomfield track, which would take us to our destination – Cape Tribulation. The track is not too bad. It’s a very hilly and windy track with a few creek crossings. We stopped off to check out Bloomfield Falls, which were majestic and powerful. Pity they are filled with saltwater Crocodiles because they would have been an awesome spot for a swim.

We arrived at our campsite, Noah Beach, at about 4pm and it’s a magical spot. We are back to National Park camping, much to Ben’s delight, and are camped right in the rainforest about 100m away from the beach. Our position allows us to be able to enjoy the smells and cool temperatures of a rainforest as well as the soothing sound of waves lapping the beach. Very tranquil.

We ended our day with a nice walk along the beach. Kids had heard through the grapevine (I told them) that Cape Tribulation has an ice-cream factory so they challenged Ben to another race on the beach. If they won, then they got to go to the ice cream factory and if he won they didn’t.

He won. Surprisingly there were no tears. I think the kids were quietly confident that somehow I would ensure the ice cream factory was toured before we departed Cape Trib.

Dinner was salad, which everyone LOVED after weeks of eating stews and curries.

Tomorrow Ben, Jazzy and Rohan are going to climb Mt Sorrow. The reviews of people who’ve climbed it say that it is a treacherous, steep climb filled with leeches and mozzies. Sounds to me like the Mountain is aptly named. I quickly nominated myself to stay back with Kylah (who did not want to go) and Isabelle (who I declared too young to go out of fear that if she went, Ben would need another adult to accompany him with so many children). I’m super excited about my quiet morning with half of our party out hiking. Lucky me!!!!

Thanks for reading!!

B xxx

Our first morning at Cape Trib was an early start for Ben, Rohan & Jazzy who had decided to conquer Mount Sorrow.  I had ever so thoughtfully packed for them the night before and included lots of water, muesli bars, insect repellent (on account of the mozzies and leeches) and had considerately assembled a mini first aid kit for them to take.  I carefully explained to Jazzy what the first aid kit contained and what it should be used for.  This was met with a lot of eye-rolling and groans from Ben, who did not see medical items being essential to the hike.  Lucky for me Jazzy is a bit of a worry wort and happily lapped up all of the useful knowledge I was imparting on her.

Whilst they were off on their hike Isabelle, Kylah and I happily slobbed on the beach. I even managed to squeeze a nap in on the beach.  It was a perfect morning.

The energetic members of our crew arrived back in time for lunch, which was zucchini, tomato and red lentil soup.  Jazzy excitedly told me that the first aid kit had been useful for a number of things.  Rohan, after being told not to touch anything, decided to touch a thorny vine which left prickles in his fingers.  Ben had to dig them out with the splinter digger thing I had put in the kit.  Rohan also had lips so badly cracked that they were bleeding and Ben had used some of the Blistex on them (also a first aid kit item).  I was thrilled!!

Apparently, the hike was loooooong and hard.  Thank goodness I had the foresight to stay at camp and vege out on the beach!!  I had a look at the photos they took, and it did look nice.  Not nice enough to make me want to hike the mountain though.

Our afternoon was spent lounging on the beach.  Ben and I were plonked in our chairs with our kindles and the kids spent their time burying each other in the sand.   We set up a cheese and dip platter on the beach and gorged ourselves happily while watching the waves.

Ben must have been in a good mood because he challenged the kids to another race, and gave himself a handicap so that they had a good chance of winning the ice cream factory tour.  The kids won!!  Wahoo!!  They were expecting to be taken immediately to the ice-cream factory but Ben said they’d have to wait till Monday to go.  The excitement was short-lived.  Two sleeps is like an eternity when you are 9.

—-Sunday—-

Today was spent exploring Cape Tribulation, and it’s many, many boardwalks (or “boredwalks” as Kylah declared them to be).  There is no doubting that Cape Trib, with its gorgeous rainforest greenery, is beautiful.  The problem it has however is that it’s overrun with tourists swarming everywhere like bees around a hive.  We have been quite spoilt up the Cape, with many of the stunning places limited to those with the 4wd means of getting to them.  Cape Trib is easily accessible, and the constant influx of backpackers and tourists is a testament to this.

The boardwalks were visually stunning. The rainforests at Cape Tribulation are prettier and greener than any I’ve encountered previously in my travels. It almost feels like you are walking through a green tunnel made from interwoven trees, vines, leaves and flowers. Even the moss and fungi are unique and beautiful.

I busied myself snapping pictures of things that struck me. Leaves with tiny holes in them (eaten by some kind of grub) that let sunlight sparkle through, moss that is mottled with a rainbow of colours, the majestic fan palms and unusually shaped fungi. Ben shot me an amused look as he saw me taking close-up pictures of fungi. “Don’t laugh.” I told him seriously “That is what will be growing off your feet if you don’t start wearing shoes in public toilets/showers”.

Pictures for me are a very important part of my holiday. Don’t worry; I’m not one of those people who take 6 million photos of random things and then invite people over to watch a 6-hour slide show (this has been done to me before & I claim it to be akin to torture!!). Generally, I have a rule that photos must have a person in them in order to be shared on social media. Occasionally a striking landscape pic or animal pic will sneak through. The photos I take are for myself to help me remember and adequately describe what I’ve seen.  You see I can’t visualise anything in my mind. When I close my eyes, I don’t see anything at all. So when I see something, the minute I turn away from it, it’s gone forever. All I am left with is the memory of what I thought about it. My mind is literally filled with words.  Most people find it very weird that I can’t close my eyes and conjure up an image of something/someone. I find it weird that they can!!

My writing is just the flow of thoughts from my mind out of my fingers. Generally, I’m quite surprised when people tell me they find it funny. Sometimes I will reread things over & over again looking for the funny bits, which I can never find. But I’m glad my thoughts entertain some of you anyway.

Back to the story… our main aim for the day was to see a cassowary in the wild so we could finally shut Rohan up. I was very dubious about what success we would have. My crew are pretty noisy. Between shoes stomping on the boardwalk, to coughing, snorting, whinging and shushing each other – the cassowaries would have run a mile before we left the car park. I was right. But it didn’t stop Ben from trying.

After our third boardwalk with not a single animal being sighted, the kids and I were ready to give up, go home & eat scones (that I’d baked in my Dreampot) on the beach. Undeterred, Ben decided that after dinner we would return to the biggest of the boardwalks & try again at night. Everything you read here tells you about how the rainforest is teeming with animals once dark falls. Surely we’d have more success, right?

We ate our dinner back at camp, tidied up, enjoyed our final shower naked in the rainforest & got ready for our night walk. Ben lined all the kids up & put headlights on them. He gave them all very strict instructions on being super quiet and making not a single noise. The kids all nodded solemnly.

The walk started off with Isabelle quietly whimpering while clutching my hand as she wasn’t given the red torch and didn’t want a headlight. As we went on her quiet whimpering grew more intense as she decided she was tired & wanted to go home to bed.  Rohan kept turning around and shushing people (he was as serious about this trip as Ben was) in the process blinding them with his headlight. “Stop looking at me Rohan!” the girls & I would cry out. This would be met with another “SHUSH!!!” from Rohan accompanied by a blinding flash of light.  Then Isabelle discovered that her thong could make very convincing fart noises when dragged along the boardwalk. This kept her happily entertained but absolutely enraged Rohan. “You kids are about as stealthy as a bull in a china shop!” Ben muttered. It’s not often that Ben gives up on an idea, but after 40 minutes of my lot noisily tramping around, he admitted defeat.

All was not lost. We saw a rat, a toad, a moth & a fish. Ben claimed that the rat we saw was a very special native rat that is unique to this area. Looked like a rat to me. Jazzy said that the moth we saw was a butterfly so she was happy with her sighting.  Oh!! I almost forgot a mozzie flew in my ear (the only part of me that wasn’t covered in Insect repellent containing 40% deet) so that gives us a total of 5 sightings. Not too shabby!!

Tomorrow we leave Cape Trib & head to Cairns, stopping at the ice cream factory along the way. This time next week I will be home!!!! There was a time on this trip when I really missed my home, my cosy bed & shower head so large you feel like you’re under a waterfall. But now I’m starting to feel like I’m going to miss adventuring. Oh well, we are already planning next year’s trip so at least I’ll have something to look forward to!!

Thanks for reading!!

B xx

At the moment I am sitting in Cairns Airport, bawling my eyes out – as I’ve done many times before (for very different reasons though).
One of our tour members had such an acute case of imissmyanimalsandcreaturecomfortsitis that we had to send her home on a plane.

Poor old Kylah hasn’t been feeling very well these last few days & nothing in my First Aide kits would work.  Last night I even resorted to buying some double-strength, targeted & specialised medicine to try to fix her but alas it only worked momentarily. (Don’t tell Ben cause he rabbits on with stupid comments about how “food doesn’t fix stuff” when quite obviously there are situations when it definitely does – this is just a really bad case of imissmyanimalsandcreaturecomfortsitis and there is no tonic strong enough).

When medicine in the form of a chocolate milkshake fails to work, then the only real cure for homesickness is going home. This cure does not work on parents who are integral to the trip (in our case that would be Ben. I’m totally expendable) or children too pesky to fly on their own or have a family member take them on for a few days. (No names need to be mentioned here #youknowwho)

I spent the day with Kylah visiting her Distance Education School with her & shopping. My anxiety about Kylah leaving may or may not have caused me to go a bit OTT shopping. I did so much damage to my Credit Card that the bank rang me to check it hadn’t been stolen & that it was I who was making the ludicrous purchases at Cairns souvenir stores & airport.

Anyway, I’ll write another blog again tonight. I’d better stop bawling & go find Frankie so I can pick up the members of our troop who do not miss home in the slightest & have spent the day up at Kuranda visiting cassowaries.

Thanks for reading!!

B xxx

P.S. Those of you who are anxiously awaiting postcards & were lured into the false hope that they would be arriving because I texted & asked for your address, please note: it appears that there are waaay too many steps involved in the postcard-sending business. I thought we had it under control. We bought the cards & the stamps. Kids wrote on them (somewhat illegibly). But now we either can’t find them when we are in the vicinity of a post box, or we can find them but realise that Rohan wrote in an erasable pen which magically disappears when heated up. So his postcards are now blank again.  It’s all too hard!!!!!

P.P.S. IMISSKYLAH!!!!! 😭😭😭 (even though she is known as Killjoy Kylah the Rule Following Dictator). I want her to come back & tell me off for crossing the road when it isn’t a green man, eating a lolly after I’ve brushed my teeth, or not putting sunscreen on. 😭😭😭