The wind and rain kept me awake for much of the night, I’m just not used to this sort of weather any more. Liesel slept through though, not even hearing whatever animal was making a really strange, loud noise in the early hours. No, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Liesel.
We enjoyed our breakfast at The Hungry Goat, though we did feel sorry for the staff there being micromanaged by the proprietor. He had his finger on every pulse, he was aware of everyone’s order, he just could not trust his assistants get on with their jobs.
He even read out our order to the young guy, surprisingly not looking too flustered, who was ringing up our bill. Vego breakfast. Omelette. Two teas. “Is that two tee-shirts?” asked Mr Unflustered. “Two pots of tea.” Ah.
It was a grade A grey day. Dreich would normally be the word, only it was still warm, today. In the 20s rather than the 30s, but the rain and the solid leaden sky just took away all the colour.
Sometimes we stop to look at things and take photos and sometimes I just shoot from the moving car. Today, I seemed to be really unlucky, getting road furniture in front of the interesting phenomenon I’m aiming at.
We passed more sugar cane, even after seeing a sign telling us that there were no more cane trains from now on. Some fields could have been rice, they were so flat, well organised and water-logged.
We passed a few herds of cattle including a field where most of the cows were generously taking some white birds for a ride.
Cape Hillsborough was a bit of a detour, but worth it. Kangaroos and wallabies can be seen on the beach at sunrise and sunset but we arrived exactly between those two times.
Some trees by the path leading to the beach were almost silver in appearance, very pretty.
Despite the fact that it was raining, Liesel joined me for a walk on the beach. I continued when she returned to the sanctuary of the car.
No animals on the beach, just lots of rocks, really weird rocks and boulders, some of them looked artificial with what looked like sheets of metal between the different layers.
I was reminded of a Kate Bush album cover when I saw this rocky outcrop reflected in the sea, resembling a soundwave.
Turtles lay their eggs on this beach too, so I hope we’ll be back sometime to see all the various animals on the beach.
Just along the road, there’s a boardwalk through the mangroves which I enjoyed so that Liesel didn’t have to. You can see the change between where the water is mainly fresh and where it’s tidal, so predominantly salty. Lots of information boards told us about the precarious balance between the lifeforms here, and asking how will a potential sea level rise of 2.8 mm affect this environment?
Some of the trees definitely had their own personalities: I would love to hear what they talk about when people aren’t around.
I don’t know whether this tree was struck by lightning, but there was no other fire damage around: maybe the fire was a long, long time ago.
We heard kookaburras and other birds but apart from a quick flash of wings up above, I didn’t see any. There were a few butterflies braving the rain too.
Further along the road, we saw a tree with a bell on it. You can tell how old it is by counting its rings.
Lots of cows, but no sheep. Except this one, quickly snapped from the passenger seat.
The rain never really let up and by the time we reached Bucasia Beach, we had the windscreen wipers going pretty much all the time. The rain didn’t stop me from having a good time all by myself on a beach the size of a hundred football pitches. (I have no idea if it really was the size of a hundred football pitches but it’s the kind of comparison much loved by TV commentators, and they never get fact-checked either.)
There was a delightful stream flowing into the sea, which I walked the length of, admiring the eddies and currents, watching the vortices and the low banks of sand being eroded. A good representation of how actual rivers are created over a longer time period.
I even caught myself running rather than walking for a bit: nothing like a bit of exercise in the rain. From the top, some vegetation was encroaching onto the sand adding a rare splash of colour to the day.
It was still precipitating when we arrived at our abode for the night, at a place called Dolphin’s Head. We’re on the first floor and we have a balcony from where we can see the beach.
The waves are crashing onto the rocks, and I hope that’s a more relaxing sound than the rain was last night!