Before leaving Eungella National Park I got Peter up at 5.45AM so we could get another look at the Duck Billed Platypus which didn’t seem at all bothered about it being so early. It was quite cool and over the distant hills was a thick layer of mist. We watched one flitting about for a while and then went for a walk through the rainforest. Neither of us had taken our reading glasses with us so at one point so the information boards proved a challenge. Squinting away we tried to figure out which way to go, guided by the worn out YOU ARE HERE mark.

As with most rainforests we have walked through, they are thick on vegetation but rather sparse on wildlife. At least wildlife you get to see. You can hear the birds but rarely see one. After breakfast we drove to Finch Hatton gorge. Now if any of you are thinking “I recognise that name” well you would be right. Playboy Dennis Finch Hatton was the lover of Karen Blixen of Out of Africa fame. This Finch Hatton was his father who came out to Australia to farm cattle.

The gorge was carved by a river leaving some useful swimming holes, which Peter tested. At the second one a local lad arrived just as Peter was getting out and asked if he had seen the giant eel. That made Peter move. It was a 3-mile return walk to visit them, uphill on the way out, and considering I had already walked 2 miles that morning I was exhausted later in the day.

On returning from the walk we had lunch, during which Peter got mugged and his sandwich
stolen. The culprit was a Kookaburra- a bird the size of a magpie with a 60mm long thick beak. He actually flew into the campervan landed on the table and snatched the sandwich from Peters hand (giving him a peck at the same time) before flying back out. He then added insult to injury by sitting right outside the campervan eating it. I think we may have got the final laugh as it had chilli avocado paste in it.

We left the Eungella national park and drove back down towards the coast into the land of sugar cane. There is only so much sugar cane lined road along which you can drive so Peter suggested an inland detour which he thought might be interesting. It involved driving up through a mountain (hills really) range and along a massive flat area consisting of scrubland for 200kms.

The 3 towns (I use that term very loosely) consisted of nothing more than a few buildings. A roadhouse with house and some caravans, was the second town we passed through and was eerily deserted and the shop and café closed. A sign on the door said "sorry closed come and see us again” (I don’t think so). Finally, we got back to the main coastal highway, which was still lined by sugar cane plantations, and headed down to Rockhampton.

On the way we visited some limestone caves, smelly from all the bat pooh which over the years has been compacted to a hard dirt floor. Outside I caught a glimpse of a rock wallaby. He was quite small with a lovely reddish brown coat. No chance for photo. We camped at the caves and the next day popped along to the local mower racing championships. They do know how to have fun out here! It was not as exciting as you would think (maybe you didn’t think it sounded exciting in the first place) as the mowers set of at different times and just followed each other around a wiggly track on some impressively hyped up sit-on mowers.

We had another 250 kms to drive to get to Hervey Bay, our next stop. Peter suggested another inland detour. I was not quite so enthusiastic this time but agreed and so of we went. It was a little less flat scrubland and more hilly cattle ranch country this time with the odd irrigated crop and a few more town-like towns. It was certainly a little cooler up in the hills so that was nice. We camped halfway at Monto which is known because a Liberator WWII plane had crashed
nearby in 1945 and was found till 1994. Two of the people on board were spitfire pilots hitching a lift to the wedding of one.

Finally, back on the Bruce highway we arrived at Hervey Bay and booked our whale watching tour, and what a tour it was. It was a glorious day, the wind was light and the sea a wonderful lucid turquoise blue. We hadn’t been out long before we encountered our first mother and baby, both of which seemed curious about the boat and swam gracefully around and under us for a good 15 minutes. The water being calm and crystal clear meant we had fantastic views of them both. The whales come to the Australian coast from the Antarctic to give birth and mate again before heading back to gorge themselves on plankton in the icy waters. Hervey bay is a stop off on the way back. A chance for a bit of a get together and for the mothers to feed the babies and build them up ready for the trials of the long journey, including shark and killer whale attacks. The babies drink around 600 litres of milk a day. We actually saw lots of pods of
mothers and babies and some great acrobatics including breaching, pec, tail and head slapping, blowing and peduncle arching, all except spy hops (impressed by my terminology?).

Next day we headed out to Fraser Island on a tour. The tour was a bit of a disappointment. It was a big coach so lot of time was spent waiting around for people. Also each stop was short to the point of feeling rushed. Shame as the island was amazing. It is the largest sand island in the world, being 124km long and between 15 and 20 km wide. The sand has for millions of years been moving up the East coast of Australia by the current and on coming across three largish rock the current was slowed and the sand deposited. As it built up the sand was carried by the wind resulting in a series of giant sand dunes which over time have become covered in soaring rainforests which seem to defy the laws of nature by growing out of sand. The island has a vast array of wildlife including dingo’s, wallaby’s and echidna. The island has a highway on the 75km long beach which is used by cars, buses, motorcycles and even aircraft. On the beach lies the wreck of a Scottish built cruise liner which was for a time used as a WWI hospital ship before being sold to Japan, in 1935, as scrap. It didn’t make it back to Japan but got caught in a cyclone and was wrecked on the beach.


Moving on again we visited a charming old town called Maryborough with buildings dating back to the colonial time, on what was a thriving immigration river port in the mid to late 1800’s. Its more interesting claim to fame is as the birthplace of Pamela Lyndon Travers author of Mary Poppins.