Heavenly Beverley

Saturday, 16 March 2019

To Cooktown, With Love

We have been home for thirty-six hours after an action-packed nine days away. After a sound sleep, I am feeling much more human. Still a bit tired, which is why I have just picked up a latte from Red Vault across the road. This afternoon is warm and lazy. A few guests have been in the Gallery, but I have had plenty of time to reflect on our latest adventure.

I am not missing the Wet. At all. The temperature here is around thirty-four degrees Centigrade (about ninety-three Fahrenheit) but feels cooler due to the low humidity. Sitting with the fan on, I am not even breaking into a moist glow. No more issues with glasses - they are neither fogging up nor falling off a sweaty nose. Instead, they are firmly attached to my face without a skerrick of movement. Bliss.

And yet, I am particularly missing Cooktown, for any number of reasons. Cooktown frequently has a fairly stiff breeze, which makes the humidity more bearable. My brother Michael (otherwise known as B2) is there, along with his daughter Rebekah and grandchildren Kate, Tyler and Rachael. Kate is an exceptional young girl of eleven and I hope to maintain regular contact with her through her Mum. Tyler is a handsome little chap of three and Rachael is a highly energetic two-year-old dynamo.

Cooktown still has an atmosphere of God's Own Country. People mostly live in the town because they want to live there. We met a bunch of entertaining characters, mostly through our dinners in the Bowl's Club, the River of Gold Motel and the Sovereign Hotel. The Saturday morning markets on the foreshore operate rain or shine. Views of the Coral Sea took my breath away. The surrounding country is stunning, with big rivers, waterfalls and rock pools, some of which do not have crocodiles as residents. Going to Isabella Creek and Falls was an afternoon to remember.

The town is proud of her heritage. There are museums, including the magnificent James Cook Museum housed in the now restored convent. There is a wonderful art gallery, the Elizabeth Guzsely Gallery, which houses the Cooktown School of the Arts. There are other quirky art and craft studios. The local Botanic Gardens are a must-see. The cemetery is fascinating. Finch Bay is a beautiful spot for further vistas of the Coral Sea, as is the lighthouse. There are cafes and a bakery. Our only tragedy was that Jackey-Jackey's Thai Restaurant was taking a break until April.

Stories abound. Exploration and discovery, tales of Country, early European settlement, the Palmer River gold rush, Cooktown's vital role in the Second World War and the hardy and inventive men, women and children who made Cooktown their home in the Far North. There were some dark events in Cooktown's history as well as great achievement, such as the renovation of the former convent in under a year back in 1969 and 1970.

So, Cooktown will keep calling me back. Next year is the two-hundred-and-fiftieth anniversary of Cook's successful repair of his ship "Endeavour" at Cooktown after a nasty reef tore a bloody big hole in the bottom. His forty-eight days of an enforced stopover in the area is to be commemorated. I hope to be in Cooktown right smack in the middle of this celebratory period. My birthday falls on 17 July, my brother's on 30 July. I can't think of a better place to be then.

And Cooktown, specifically the James Cook Museum was the site of my latest book purchase. "Girt - The Unauthorised History of Australia" by David Hunt and should be mandatory reading. Side-splittingly funny and ruthlessly scornful of the colonial masses, the characters and the often bizarre, ridiculous and disastrous events, this is not the boring Australian history that I remember as a school student. The frequent footnotes are a delight by themselves. "Girt" covers the period of Aboriginal settlement a very long time ago to the ascendency of Governor Macquarie. I started reading "Girt" on the flight home and have been laughing ever since. I have promised myself that when we are next in Cooktown, I shall buy the next volume entitled "True Girt".

If I can hold out that long...

The Welcoming Committee at Cooktown Botanic Gardens

Saturday morning market stall

Oldest surviving house in Cooktown. Renovator's delight?

Elizabeth Guzsely Gallery images -

The crystal-clear water of Isabella Creek

Stout Cortez and guide on Isabella Falls walk...

The beautiful Isabella Falls

Lighthouse atop Grassy Hill

Endeavour River

Michael hard at work

Chinese Shrine and plaques at the cemetery...

Miss Kate Hosking

Peel me another grape...B2 relaxing on our verandah

James Cook Museum images -

The altar where the nuns frequently prayed for cooler weather

And please send us a breeze!

The convent before restoration

Rather unpleasant tools of early dentistry...

Harold and Bev at the Museum

Black Mountain National Park en route to Cairns through the savannah country

I would be Un-Australian NOT to read these two splendid accounts of history...

Thursday, 14 March 2019

We're Going to Freeze!

We fly out of the Tropics this evening. I am currently being entertained by a very pretty, tiny bug about the size of my little fingernail. A solitary gecko has yet to retire after a busy night. All the others have gone to bed for the daylight hours. A large moth is deceased on the sofa. The humidity is once more intense. Sleeping in airconditioning is problematic. Kerri and Kev's guest room is huge and beautifully furnished but takes some time to cool down in the evening. Hence, Michael was quite restless last night, his body switching from hot to cool and back again. As a result, he has taken quite a while to properly wake up this morning.

The Wet is also responsible for turning our brains to mush. Physical activity is carefully considered before the absolute minimum being undertaken. Outside, shade becomes a necessity as we dart from tree to tree. Hats are mandatory. Inattention from both of us is rife. Losing keys, wallets, phones and cameras have been on a daily basis. Simple tasks become muddled. Michael was completely stumped on one occasion getting out of our hire car, Pink. He kept pressing the window switch and wondering why the door wasn't magically opening.

Cooktown, three hundred kilometres north of Cairns, was actually cooler. The wind was a constant companion in this frontier town, meaning that sweat did have a chance to dry and cool us down. Cairns resembles a shallow basin surrounded by mountains. The breeze tends to be much lighter, so damp skin and clothing are a factor of life there.

Yesterday, we declined to join Kev, Kerri and their mate Claude aboard their trailer sailer Lakatoi for an afternoon race. An excellent decision on our parts. We would have been perfectly useless, been in the way and succumbed to sunburn and dehydration. Falling overboard would not have been out of the question. Being a meal for a passing shark or crocodile or stung by a fearsome jellyfish were definitely unfavourable options.

Instead, we enjoyed a delightful lunch at the Salt House. Grilled barramundi and salad, with a glass of vino, was just the ticket. Following on, we endured the crush of Cairns Central to buy me a new suitcase. Michael was so impressed that he bought one too. He vetoed the hot pink luggage I was after and I refused point blank to consider the dreary black case he was favouring. We ended up with a bright orange and vivid blue bag each.

Then off the Cairns Botanic Gardens. The Butterfly House was beautiful and peaceful and planted with exquisite flowers and interesting specimens, such as pitcher plants and the Titan Arum, as tall as a tree and actually a lily. It produces a carrion flower which exudes a smell similar to a rotting carcass. Absolutely choice. Fortunately, there were none to smell and the Titan was just an ultra fascinating plant to observe.

After becoming hideously lost (despite being armed with a map), we visited a very interesting International Women's Day exhibition at the Tanks Art Centre. These enormous tanks, used to store fuel during the Second World War, have been restored and are now used for performance and visual arts events.

By this point, we both needed to sit and cool off. A banana, strawberry and mango smoothie each boosted our flagging energy. After a couple of brief stops, we retired back to Kerri and Kev's digs for a glass of restorative vino.

When they arrived back after an afternoon's sailing, they were shattered. Light winds had made for fickle and active sailing. However, they were not disgraced either, not finishing at the back of the fleet. After they had showered, we threw all our leftovers on the table and enjoyed a delicious dinner.

By nine-thirty, we were all in bed. Despite Michael's nocturnal movement, I slept quite well, until seven o'clock. At that moment, a neighbouring dog chose to woof. I immediately sprang to attention - I was convinced Ruby was requesting her morning treat. Once up, I decided to enjoy the relative cool of the early morning.

This last day was spent in the Art Gallery, followed by lunch at the adjoining cafe. The Gallery was cool and airy, with interesting exhibitions featuring two prominent printmakers. A third installation, named "Decadence" just gave me the creeps. After arriving at the Museum, we were introduced to an exceedingly enthusiastic volunteer, a young man from Mareeba, who volunteered on Thursdays. He led us on a twenty-minute "highlights" tour, which almost turned into a three-hour cruise. He had his route and his script and he did not deviate from either, even when we tried. In some ways, he did the Museum a favour, as we will have to return at a later date to see all the exhibits we missed, due to his excellent and relentless leadership.

The afternoon clouded over and there was only a whisper of a breeze. I was going to pack when we returned to Kerri and Kev's and were stymied by two situations. We locked ourselves out of the house and had to be rescued. The second was Michael's need for an afternoon kip. Spread-eagled on our bed with the fan blowing on him, he went out like a light.

Relaxing with a cup of tea, I am a tad concerned about our late night arrival in Perth tonight. We have become accustomed to minimums in the low to medium twenties. Beverley is expecting an overnight temperature of sixteen degrees. Not so long ago, I was laughing at Kerri asking for a blanket as we sat outside in our courtyard at home. Now, the boot has definitely moved to other foot. Where's a handy cardigan when I need one?!