I’m going to try and describe the journey up to the northernmost point of Australia through the yet-unwritten orchestral piece I’ve been imagining that describes it. (You’re going to find that my composing style is a little literalist.)
The journey has been characterised by long stretches of bright red dusty road, lined with unbelievably green trees (the variety over the 1000 or so ks from Cairns has been incredible). The middle of the orchestra – wind instrument, second violins and the violas – will have the dusty road theme. There’ll be variations of that theme for the bone-rattling corrugation (xylophone’s time to shine!) and going down a tone because we’re use an off-road track to avoid the worst of the road. The outside orchestral instruments – brass, French horns, first violins, cellos, double basses – will have the soaring green trees theme.
Then there’ll be a motif for the obligatory passing-another-car hand wave – maybe a solo second violin and the oboe play it at each other – and suddenly the orchestra blasts white noise as the car becomes enveloped in the passing vehicle’s dust cloud. Slowly, slowly, from the back of the orchestra to the front, the instruments start picking up the themes again as you make it through the dust cloud and start to be able to see again.
They are my starting ideas. I’ll play with daydreams – the road dust is sometimes so exquisitely salmon-pink that I find myself lapsing into thoughts of overwater fish scenes – and other ideas. That is, if I ever end up writing this piece at all.
We left Kite Surfari last Thursday and headed through dry, scenic Lakefield National Park, through the side-track to Coen, and then up into Iron Ranges for two nights at Chilli Beach. Heading further north, we bypassed the southern Old Telegraph Track to make a bee-line for the stunning Fruit Bat, Eliot and Twin Falls, where we soaked all afternoon and the next morning. From there, we braved a section of the Old Telegraph Track with some hairy river crossings. When we got to the Northern Peninsula Area, we made camp up near the tip at Punsand Bay.
We’ve seen so much incredible scenery that I can’t begin to describe the variety. Somehow the rainforest and bush has remained almightily green through this dry, hot area. It’s often up to 35/37 degrees during the day, so we try to minimise leaving the car during the middle of the day (unless we’re at a shady beach with breezes, or a swimming hole). Shops are scarce, fuel is outrageously expensive. It feels, at least to me, incredibly remote. But so beautiful. There’s also an amazing culture of striking up conversation with every traveller you cross paths with. Maybe because there’s no reception, so no hiding behind phones?
This morning, we woke early to spend time at the tip for sunrise (which was a gentle affair, given the cloud cover). It’s a surprisingly rugged walk over the exposed rocky headland to the iconic sign. The water around here is a rare, bright shade of turquoise. It’s cruelly invitingly.
Big thanks to my beautiful husband for long stints at the wheel, tetrissing all our camp gear in the canopy, being delightful company during extended travel, making opportunities and space for me to grow and be challenged, and for a surprising but still amazing first year of marriage.
From tomorrow, we’re southbound!
VREPS
[Punsand Bay]
The Two Swords 