I am more surprised than anyone to be here in this delightful bay, in the company of only a few campers, two cassowaries and of course, my husband. Today was one of those days when plans come to nothing but an excellent result is achieved after all.
Last night’s roadside camp filled up as the evening progressed, the trains did not pass in the night and the cheeky truckies stopped their tooting as night fell. Apart from waking to hear a short but heavy shower of rain, the night passed very peacefully.
We were away by about nine thirty, heading for Tully, just 22 kilometres up the road. Tully is famous for bananas, sugar cane and rain. The sun was shining as we broke camp but the rain greeted us as we approached Tully.
In 1902 Chinese started growing bananas along the Tully River and before long were shipping them as far as Adelaide. When the First World War arrived, shipping of bananas took the back seat to shipping of more important cargo and the Chinese abandoned the industry.
Then in 1934, one Stan Mackay arrived in Tully and soon started growing bananas, reviving the industry and guiding it to new heights. In 2009, 70% of Australia’s bananas were produced in Far North Queensland. Today many shop windows display signs supporting a ban of any import of bananas from other lands; the industry is self-serving and very keen to keep those per kilo prices right up there. Heaven forbid what would happen to the price if say bananas were allowed to come in from the Philippines!
The sugar history of the region is pretty much a continuation of that encountered down the coast, and no doubt on north as well. The first sugar cane in the district was grown in 1865 by a Mr Davison along Queensland’s Murray River down toward where we were camped last night. The following year, floods destroyed Davison’s cane crop and swept away the intended mill site. In 1881 another chap by the name of Tyson attempted to establish a sugar plantation on the Tully River but soon gave up when the sugar prices slumped and Kanaka labour was prohibited. It was not until many years later, a Government Royal Commission recommended that a sugar mill be established in the area, and so the Tully Sugar Works was proclaimed in 1923.
It was only then that Tully was surveyed off and the town was born thus making it a relatively young town in the context of others in the country that came into being eighty or so years before.
Alas, Tully is one of the most unattractive towns we have come across in Australia. Yes, I know that it suffered just terribly in Cyclone Yasi, and that accounts for roofs and shop fronts missing and the fact that so many trees in the town and the hills about are denuded of leaves and branches. But we would venture to suggest that Tully was ugly before the last cyclone. It could have something to do with the fact that the mill is basically in the main street? We walked up and down the streets as is our wont, remarking as we came to the top, “perhaps that one running at right angles is the main street?” A local chap was close behind us and heard our question, advising us that we were already in the main street and this was as good as it got.
Apart from the fact that it would have been enormously disastrous if the mill had been destroyed, a little part of me wondered if it would have been kinder if the whole town hadn’t been flattened like Darwin in Cyclone Tracy (but with no loss of life, of course) and then rebuilt in a more pleasing manner. I am sure that such a terrible thought would have me assassinated if any Tullyite were to read this!
I ask myself, why would you want to live there! And this opinion should be considered in the context of Tully being the wettest town in Australia, having an average rainfall of 4.17 metres. The highest recorded annual rainfall was 7.93 metres in 1950, and the most rainfall recorded in one 48 hour period was 52 inches (1.32 metres) in March 1967. The lowest annual rainfall recorded was 2.25 metres in 2002 (a drought!) Tullyites do indeed have a sense of humour of which I am really glad. They have built a fibre-glass gumboot in the main street reaching to the height of that highest rain fall and it does draw the tourists in off the highway in the hope of adding to the shire’s coffers.
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| Mission Beach |
We did contribute a miniscule amount to the economy of the town before moving north, or rather east across to the coast, keen to see Mission Beach and the satellite settlements. These too bore the brunt of February’s cyclone and still bear the scars. The beaches are no doubt changed beyond recognition, however we had never seen them in their pre-Yasi state, and so could only comment on how matters are now.
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| Sunny sands at Mission Beach |
South Mission Beach is lovely; golden sands and Dunk Island just four kilometres off shore. The trees will recover and many of the attractive houses, some old and some much newer, are being restored. There are few facilities there, in fact it seemed that the camping ground was the only property not private. Further north, Wongaling Beach offers a supermarket and a few other necessities, and again is a rather pleasant place. And then, further north again, one comes to Mission Beach which is absolutely delightful, again with golden sands and lined with palms that in time will wave in the breeze, beckoning the tourists once more. The little village was buzzing, the cafes full of tourists, however we suspect less busy than other years.
We intended to stay at the Council Caravan Park which charges a very fair price, however the powered sites were all taken and we were not willing to pay little less for an unpowered site. We decided to return to the Bruce Highway and make camp at one of the roadside rest areas advertised in our bible.
For the first time for a long while, we were left traveling on, searching for a camp, finding the two areas most unsatisfactory, the first at El Arish very small and too close to the official camping ground and the second too small, beside a croc infested river (per the “recently sighted” signs) and right beside a bridge over the Highway. (While we were within our rights to stay at the rest area just north of El Arish, our NZMCA training suggests that it is just not right to camp so near a commercial facility.)
I had been harping on about Etty’s Beach ever since Dot, whom I met at Talullah’s birthday party, had told me about how the cassowaries were just wandering around and what a pretty place it was. Both Chris and I were keen to see cassowaries in the wild, and today as we had driven through the Cassowary Conservation Area as we passed through the rain forest to Mission Beach and up that part of the coast, we had seen at least fifty signs to alert us to the fact that somewhere out there were the elusive birds: Speed kills Cassowaries, Cassowaries crossing next 2 kms, Cassowary Conservation Area, Cassowary Drive, Cassowary Crescent and so on. But not a cassowary in site except for those pictured on the sign boards, just like the koalas!
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| Curious cassowary |
Etty’s Beach was shown in our bible as a day park only, but I was sure that somewhere in all the tourist literature, I had seen there was a caravan park there. Chris agreed that we would drive out to the bay, find out if there was a caravan park there, if they had vacancies, and then if the price was acceptable, stay there. If not, we would return to the Bruce Highway, and travel through Innisfail which we were closing in on rapidly about two days earlier than intended, and stay at a rest area that was reportedly a few kilometers north.
And so we turned off the Highway at Mourilyn and headed out to the coast yet again, up and over the small Moresby Range, down through the rain forest and then suddenly there we were in this intimate bay. All conditions met, including a cassowary that came at once to investigate us as we returned to the vehicle after paying.
Cassowaries are very strange birds, not unlike moas, growing to two metres tall, but with soft black feathered coats and colourful heads. Their club like feet bearing savage claws can tear a man to bits in a flash. Warnings everywhere say: Do not feed cassowaries, do not approach cassowaries, and so on.
We have been wary of the two that patrol the park. They are wild but very accustomed to the campers. We are so tempted to touch them, to feed them, even to embrace them but are also mindful of the warnings.
Tonight, unable to get television reception, or internet for that matter, we will have to be satisfied with the sound of the gentle waves breaking on the shore.
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