We camped not too far from the ferry so we could be in the queue near the front. Good decision. We crossed in the first load and at the other side there were already 15 cars waiting to go south at 8.30am. Like I said in the last post, move over Donald Trump. They only get three or four cars on the ferry at once, so it can be a long wait. And they stop for an hour at lunch, so never arrive near that.

We decided to stay at Seisia (pronounced Saysha) which is right on the coast about 30km from Cape York. You know, the Real Thing. This is where you catch the ferry to Thursday Island and they say it’s a good spot for feeding the fish fishing from the jetty. We did a towny. Didn’t take long. Then headed off to see a plane wreck. Now that doesn’t sound like your biggest tourist attraction, but this in Far North Queensland at the pointy end of the peninsular, so let’s not be getting too fussed.

ooops.

This is a DC3 if you’re into planes. I’m not. But I’m definitely sad they crashed in the jungle here. No one survived. We also stopped at a Beaufort Bomber, but I didn’t bother with a photo. Surfice to say, they were ready for anything up here during WWII. Horn Island, just off the coast was bombed eight times, and we came across numerous stacks of drums of fuel buried in the jungle here near the airfield.

The last obstacle on the trek north is the Jardine River crossing. It’s crocodile infested and backed up with the (true) story of the bloke who was taken by a croc swimming across to the ferry with a spare part. The old vehicle crossing was treacherous at best. The Jardine has a strong current and is a wide crossing. Not for the faint hearted. There has been many a mishap over the years. So the crossing is officially closed but I’m hoping that the beer drinking red necks we shared the last two days on the Telegraph Track with decide to try it. So, it’s the ferry for us. This particular ferry is run by the local community who may soon knock Donald Trump off his financial perch. It cost us $149 for the 80m crossing. Sort of up the top end (no pun intended) of the range for ferry crossings. The Daintree crossing was a paltry $18. I guess they call it a captive market. And guess what? “him eftpos machine no workin’ today. You gotta pay cash”. And just in case you have any cash left, you could also fill up the car……for $2.50 per litre.

We were pleased we filled up in Weipa.

It may be a gravel pit, but this was a goody.

Another perfect night. #nofilter

The mighty Cruiser worked hard these past few days.

There’s an oasis or two on the long tough road. They attract travellers from the north and the south. I speak of Fruit Bat Falls, which is accessible from the “good” road (that means more visitors) and Eliot/Twin Falls, which is nearby but much harder to reach.

We put the kayak in at Fruit Bat Falls. This place is straight off a post card. Just amazingly clear water. Refreshing, but not cold. No crocs here – there are none at any of the creeks along the Tele Track. What a welcome relief from staring at gorgeous beaches and not being able to swim.

Fruit Bat Falls

The boys put the kayak in and tried to head upstream to see what was around the bend. But it was too shallow, so they headed downstream to Eliot Falls while I drove the car, negotiating the deepest ford of the trip (head light high) with the help of one of the many fellow travellers.

Eliot Creek

I hear there was a wee bit of portaging before arriving downstream at Eliot Falls. I enjoyed a swim or two here. It was another sensational spot to spend some time and wonder if you really are such a long way from anywhere.

Eliot Falls with the boys arriving at the top of the falls

And below is the spot that I spent some time cooling off. Life was tough today.

Twin Falls

The next big route decision is north of Moreton Telegraph station at Bramwell Junction. It’s either the graded unsealed road to the top (Bamaga) or the completely unmaintained track known as the Overland Telegraph Track where the wheel ruts can resemble bottomless crevasses and the creek crossing are many, deep and have made many a mechanic rich. And yes, of course we are taking the latter.

It starts with the toughest crossing, Palm Creek, just 4 kilometres into the 100km of challenges. Having dropped into the creek bed down a steep sandy decline, we appeared at the proper water course and made a left turn.

Entering Palm Creek

After about 30m of creek, we turn right and head up the steep, muddy slope to the north bank. There was a huge rock on the way that caused us a spot of bother.

Creek exit.

With the trailer in tow, we weigh a fair bit. We winched off a tree for the last pinch and left behind the hoards who decided to tackle it the morning. This was great news as we took on the next creek by ourselves and camped solo at a perfect site on the north bank of Ducie Creek. It was definitely in the top three camps we’ve ever had. Not hot, not cold, no wind, no flies, no mozzies, no noisy crowds. Having no power doesn’t matter as our batteries last for many days, and no water? We camped right on a clear creek and cooled off at the end of a long day right next to our tent. Our private pool. Then Harry set a fire….

Ready to light

And the bush telly was on.

The Telegraph Track is a mixture of rocky wash outs, ruts, corrugations and of course the many creeks. We saw a snake on the track, a huge wild pig run across the road in front of us, heaps of small kangaroos and a billion termite hills. Grass trees went past in huge patches, then yellow flowering grevilleas, then paper barks. And despite the large number of vehicles on the track, there were still many peaceful times.

Telegraph Track