Heavenly Beverley : A Long Kiss Goodbye.

Last day on the road. Last day in Far North Queensland. Our time in Cooktown had been hectic, eye-opening, joyful, wistful and quick. Suddenly, I was ready to go home to Station House and hug, in order, Vanessa, the Three Stooges, and Madame Cat. The Pirate Parrot would get a raspberry.

Leaving my brother Mike, his daughter Rebekah and her little tribe was quite difficult. We vowed to return when we could. The entire family received an open invitation to come to the Wild West. We left Cooktown behind for the drive back to Cairns.

First the familiar. Lakeland, Palmer River (excellent roadhouse built of local stone and delicious toasties), Mt Carbine and into Mt Molloy. Michael photographed the old boilers and other paraphernalia embedded in the remains of a brick wall from every angle. I was more concerned about long scaly creatures lurking in the thick grass. (I am currently reading a journalist's memoirs of Africa).

Mt Molloy gave no hint that we were only thirty kilometres from the coast. We were still in savannah country. We turned Lily eastwards. Julatten was a quaint little village less than ten kilometres along the road. Already, the vegetation was changing. Thicker, greener and sugar cane emerging again. All signs of higher rainfall. Down the mountains. Michael was driving. In true FNQ style, we witnessed the good, the bad and the ugly. Drivers careering past us when they were able (or unable). Fantastic views. Steep, narrow and tightly curved. I shall neither consider Greenmount more than a doodle ever again.

All of a sudden, Lily blasted onto the flats. We continued to Mossman. Briefly, we considered stopping at the Gorge. However, at two o'clock on a Sunday afternoon, the car park was absolutely jammed with tourists. Michael shuddered and turned Lily around. We set off for Port Douglas.

The scenery adjacent to the Captain Cook Highway was truly spectacular. The Pacific Ocean on our left. High rainforest on our right. Heavy traffic kept Michael on his toes. With relief, we peeled off to stop at Port Douglas.

The town was originally founded as a port for the inland mining industry. Now, it has morphed into a super-sized string of resorts and every other imaginable type of accommodation. The main drag transported me to Noosa. After all our other reasonably low-key destinations, the bustle and the noise assaulted my senses. We turned towards the shoreline and miraculously found a spare car space. The familiar look of the river mouth with the comforting mangroves reduced my anxiety. The pretty little church, set amongst palm trees, slowed the pace of my brain to a far more relaxed speed. Next door to the church was the local Sunday market.

Even though the stalls were starting to pack up, I plunged in for a squizz. There was not that much to interest me. Until I spotted the Frock Shop. Pam, creator and proprietor of Pamena Fashions, based in Cairns, was featuring exactly the kind of clothes I love. Middle aged herself, Pam's motto was "real clothes for real women". Hence a short, somewhat rotund girl like me was able to find two pretty frocks that fitted nicely and didn't make me feel like Ten Tonne Tessie in drag.

After a restorative lemon, lime and bitters at one of the many bars, we left Port Douglas for the final leg to Cairns. I had been enchanted by the low-key elements of the town. The main drag I could leave for the deadly serious tourists.

Cairns, Leigh and his unit welcomed us with open arms. After the trauma of Fawlty Towers, I demanded a Frock-up, a "nice" restaurant and a cocktail. The local Rydges fitted the bill. We shouted Leigh for his generosity towards us. And I was incredibly touched when a single chap like Leigh and a career smoker quietly began puffing outside his unit, rather than inside, in deference to me. Leigh Doust, you are the Man!

Monday was all about travel. We waved goodbye to Cairns. We flew over the most amazing country and landed in Alice Springs for a brief stopover. A Central Australian gift for Ailsa and Mark to thank them for babysitting Kermit the 4WD. We hoped he hadn't lowered the tone of their very nice neighbourhood too much.

Onward to Perth. An outrageously expensive taxi ride to pick up Kermit. No wonder Uber is booming. Out of the Big Smoke. Home after twelve hours.

Station House, Vanessa, the dogs, cat and bird were all delighted to see us. We retired gratefully to our beautifully comfortable bed. Sometimes there is no place like home.

Between Cairns and Mt Molloy -