Our camping ground is right beside the Barron River where we met the Fishing Dude. But John has been investigating further afield, or should I say further upstream. We are below the dam, so there’s not a whole lot of water flowing over the rocks and boulders. But…John has heard that they are letting water out of the dam about 3pm each day for the rafting companies to run some trips. So…..you guessed it. John and the boys go on one of the rafting trips? No. John takes the plastic sit-on-top kayak down the white water? Yes. Do I think this is a low risk activity? Nah.

So off we go to the dam wall at 2.45pm. There are about seven rafts from two different companies heading down the river. John and the boys lob in the middle of the pack. It provides the punters with some entertainment as they negotiate  the first rapid – successfully. I drove alongside the river to another vantage point where I found a huge set of rapids that they had to portage around. Then to another section, where they nearly pulled off a clean run, as the following photos tell the story.

Looks good

Still good

Can’t tell…

A bit sketchy

Gone.

Done.

Time to scramble.

All safe.

Very entertaining.

They had a fun time and I was pretty happy that they got the support of many rafting guides, safety backup and the use of the commercial safety guy in a downriver boat.

It feels so good to get up whenever we want. I really have no idea if it’s dark at 6.30am here in Cairns, like it is at home, or still dark at 7am when the boys head off to catch the bus – like it is at home. And I have no intention of finding out. But it was light by the time I decided to make a perfect coffee under the palm trees with the bush turkeys keeping me company.

I have only been to Cairns once, way back in 1997. John was doing an expedition race over five or six days in the region. I don’t think much has changed really. There are new suburbs still being unpacked – just like in our own region. But they have more ostentatious entry gates to the New Estates up here in FNQ. We just have iron sculptures of pelicans. Not sure which is less desirable. But Cairns is a city of all that the tourist needs. It’s all set up for the backpacker culture. There are multiple yards filled with Wicked Campers ready for the hoards. The “adventure activities” abound: bungy jumping, cable water skiing, scuba diving, white water rafting, kayaking and more. It’s pretty exhausting just reading the brochures. I feel SO over 50.

We drive to town and do the family thing, starting with the Visitor Information Centre. One of the weird things going on here in Queensland (but not the only one) is that Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service or QPWS have decreed that all their camping grounds must be pre-booked online. Well pardon me, but which outback traveller can plan exactly which nights they wish to camp on their journey to Cape York along rough roads with unpredictable weather and unknown conditions? Not this family. If you don’t pre-book online, you can phone them. Which is pretty difficult round these parts with phone reception generously described as patchy – at best. The man at the Info Centre has identified the problem. Last State Government funding cuts. Isn’t that always the answer?

I have always wondered how Cairns came to be the huge regional centre that it is plus the major tourism mecca when the beach is, well, just mud.

Cairns Beach. No problems with sand between your toes here

We head out of town to find Crystal Cascades. It’s a little known waterfall high above Cairns. But Google Maps has sabotaged the side trip and we end up 90 minutes’ walk from where we want to be. Nice view of Lake Morris though.

Lake Morris bathed in the brilliant sunshine of Far North Queensland. Not.

We did, however, find the Queensland version of the fig leaf. When there’s so much rain up here it’s no wonder the plants grow so big.

Harry’s big fig leaf.

Cape York here we come. With three weeks off school, it’s time to get the trailer loaded, cancel the papers, lock the doors and leave the freezing weather of Victoria far behind. We have travelled the western half of the Big Lap back in 2013 that the Nomads have made their own. Now we can add The Tip to our CV – or we will if we make it to Cape York and back.

John started heading north on Tuesday afternoon, getting as far as Gunbar, just past Hay, where he rolled out a mat and climbed into a sleeping bag. Then it rained. And rained. Of course, he did pull the awning out from the trailer for cover, but when the water pooled in the canvas and the whole thing crashed down and hit him on the head, he figured it was time to start driving again. It was 5am. Next stop was just south of Barcaldine in Queensland where nothing much happened. Next day it was on to Townsville. After 2500km and 45 hours driving, he saddled up the mountain bike and got the blood moving for a couple of hours. After camping just south of Cairns on Thursday night, he finished off the epic drive and set up the tent for us at a lovely peaceful camping ground before collecting Ferg, Harry and me from our flight from Melbourne via Brisbane.

Arriving in Far North Queensland, you remember how vastly different this part of our country is to just about everywhere else. The massive rainfall up here makes green the main colour of life. It’s over cast and threatening rain with unfriendly clouds. But we have been allocated a spot in this camping ground in a terraced area where no one else has camped. Nice.

No crowds at this camping ground.

The Nomads are back to back in the next section, but we have a huge area all to ourselves. Even room to kick the footy. It’s 25 degrees and rather nice to wear shorts and a Tshirt in June.

The boys (all three) headed off on the bikes to check the fishing options along the river. They met a dude who knew all there was to know about catching fish there on the Barron. Tomorrow’s fishing date was set.