Around Australia on a Bolwell Scooter

While wandering around the next morning I passed a little boy in a Batman suit. He looked so proud of himself and reminded me of my grandson, Joshua, who had actually ridden in the Batcar leading the parade at Movie World when he visited. I felt quite heart sore and homesick.

From Surfers I braved the motorway again for the ride into Brisbane. I'd selected a park on the north of the city and confidentially set off on 'back roads' once I got to the city perimeter. Of course, inevitably, I got lost. I think it took me longer to ride from South to North Brisbane than from Surfers to the city! I booked into the caravan park for a week. It had taken two and a half weeks to get from Sydney to Brisbane. It felt much longer. I needed a rest! As I pulled into a parking bay at a Townsville caravan park, a man walking past stopped, looked and came back. 'Are you the woman who is going around Australia on a scooter? Didn't I see you on TV?'
'Well, I was on TV, in Rockhampton'. 'Yes, that's where I saw you. You really are going around on that little thing?' 'Um, well, yes!' 'And alone?' 'Yes' 'You are one hell of a gutsy broad!' I was thinking of this and other inane/surreal/bizarre conversations as I left Townsville heading yet further north. Of all the new experiences and sights I'd enjoyed in the past few weeks, it's the personal encounters that make me smile the most. But I'm ahead of myself.

I spent six days in Brisbane. It's an easy city to walk around. The Rivercat ferry was a fun way to explore too. Leaving Brisbane I took a detour through the Glasshouse Mountains thus avoiding the Bruce Highway for a while. Following the coastal road from Caloundra I eventually arrived in Noosa. Not quite as horrendously touristic as the Gold Coast, I nonetheless only stopped for half-a-day. Going on, I managed to keep off the Bruce until Marlborough. From Childers I branched off to Bundaberg.

The area had not had its usual quantity of rain. The sugarcane fields surrounding the town showed this. Pale green/yellowish, stunted growth boded ill for this year's yield. I visited the famous rum distillery. The entrance ticket entitles holder to two free samples of the product at the end of the tour. I tried a delicious rum 'liquor', with milk and cream. I am not usually a spirit imbiber. It went straight to my head! I offered my second freebie ticket to fellow tour members but, surprisingly, had no takers! I threw it away - and then found a quiet corner where I sat for an hour before riding Gypsy back to the campground. I still felt lightheaded!

Gypsy received a well-overdue service from Bundaberg Motorcycles and the local newspaper interviewed me. After four days in Bundaberg I set off again, stopping in Miriamvale for lunch. A man at an adjacent table kept looking at me to the point where I started to feel decidedly uncomfortable. As I was leaving he stopped me. 'Are you the lady riding around Australia on a scooter?' 'Yes' 'Saw you in the newspaper.' That was the extent of the conversation! I guess it took him the entire lunch break to figure out why my face was familiar.

Dion, of Skootas Rental & Sales in Rockhampton, had been advised by Bolwell of my imminent arrival. He attempted to secure accommodation for me at a reduced rate. Although I appreciated his efforts, I was more comfortable in my usual home - my tent. I had reason to rue my decision. Not only was I - and fellow campers - kept awake by a group of English 'backpackers', who talked loudly and non-stop until after 3.30am, but the local bats "hung-out" in the overhead trees and left their calling cards adorning my tent.
Next morning at 8.30 Dion phoned to advise me the local TV guys would be at his shop in half-an-hour.
Tent cleanup had to be abandoned temporarily - I later had 'baked-on' dung to contend with. And people think travel is all about pleasure!

I found the road from Rockhampton to Mackay - 334kms - not very interesting country. It has neither the starkness of the Stuart Highway to Coober Pedy nor the far horizons of the Nullarbor. Spindly trees and open cattle country with glimpses of ranges in the far distance. The road seemed to go on forever. Dozens of Harley's passed me, heading north. I saw a dead dingo at the roadside - my first dingo and the poor creature was no more!

After overnighting at Clairview I was on the road early. More Harley's roared past. It transpired they were headed for the annual Hog get-together in Mackay. The shrub and trees gave way to cane fields - greener and healthier looking than at Bundaberg. As I entered Mackay there were people lining the streets to watch the Harley's arrive. I got some strange looks as I rode by. One young boy pointed at me and laughed derisively. I was very indignant and wanted to stop and tell him exactly what Gypsy had achieved to date but continued on.

At the campground in north Mackay, I once again pitched tent under trees. Will I never learn? Come dusk scores of colourful lorikeets started roosting. At least their deposits were easier to clean than the bats 'do'. Any place described in my guidebook as 'happening' or a 'party place' is best avoided, I've found. Airlie Beach fell into that category. I rode on by the turn-off.

After setting up camp in Townsville - carefully avoiding any overhanging tree branches - I visited Rising Sun Honda (Euro Motorcycles), the local Bolwell people, to introduce myself. Bernie, Mike and most of the staff came outside to view Gypsy. They seemed amazed that I had got that far. Talk about faith in your product! I wanted to sightsee but 10 minutes later the local TV station phoned to set up an interview (thanks to Mike). I rushed back to the campsite to collect bags - the 'traveling' look being desirable.

Spent a day on Magnetic Island, offshore from Townsville. The good people at Rising Sun had arranged the loan of a local hire scooter at their cost. Smaller than Gypsy, though also 50cc, it was good fun to zip along the excellent island roads. Whatever the size, scootering is fun. On a 2.5km walk up to the Forts, an historical island sight, I saw a koala - at last. Contentedly selecting and munching leaves it paid not the least bit of notice of the gaping humans below.

The weather started deteriorating the day I left Townsville. Drizzle became heavier as I went north - a good excuse to stop for a hot chocolate drink at Cardwell. Disappointingly, Hinchinbrook was enshrouded in mist. The rain eased and I went for a walk on the deserted beach. Back at the parking area I saw a sign "Beware, estuarine crocodiles occur in this area"!! "Gutsy broad" I may be - but not gutsy enough to wander where crocodiles lurk. I quickly made an exit!

Detouring off the Bruce Highway, towards Mission Beach, I rode through the Tam O'Shanter National Park. This is a cassowary conservation area. Signs warn motorists to slow down. As I rounded a corner, crossing the road directly in front of me were an adult cassowary and four chicks, walking single file. I was able to stop immediately due to my slower speed but I fear a car going around that corner, at that instant, would have resulted in yet more cassowary casualties.

Kurrimine Beach is a tiny village of a few houses, a petrol station, a takeaway/grocery store, a pub and not much else. I booked into the caravan park at the far end of town, anticipating a quiet and relaxing weekend. The first 24 hours were that, but late the following afternoon my peace was shattered. A group of about eight adults, ten boys and a few girls, arrived. From Atherton, they'd come down for a soccer 'tournament' with district clubs. After being relatively isolated for months from children, particularly boisterous boys, their energetic and noisy interactions were quite intrusive! I'd been lounging beneath the shade of palms, at the poolside, but when they started a water fight and dive-bombing, I retreated to my tent. My eldest daughter, Sharon, a primary school teacher and mother of a son, thought it very amusing when I grumpily sent her a text message about my 'spoiled' weekend!

Cane fields and the occasional pawpaw or pineapple plantation bordered the road north. Rain kept threatening. Locals told me it was very unseasonable. Cairns was humid and sticky. I spent a lot of time in air-conditioned buildings! I found it very touristy and expensive. I had wanted to go out to the Reef but at over $150 for a few hours -albeit inclusive of hire of snorkel gear - I had to pass. I consoled myself with the thought I'd seen reefs and tropical fish in Thailand and Sri Lanka, and although much more extensive, the Barrier Reef couldn't be that different.

The Captain Cook Highway towards Port Douglas runs close to the ocean. Very picturesque, when the persistent drizzle let up enough for me to see the views. A short detour off the main road and a couple of turns around the centre of Port Douglas convinced me I wasn't interested in stopping - a resort town. Continuing north through Mossman - past kilometre after kilometre of healthy looking sugarcane - I came at last to my day's destination. Wonga Beach, a delightful campsite set among mature trees, lived up to its recommendation. The air was heavy with humidity. After a brief visit to Daintree village, I took a boat ride on the Daintree River. Disappointingly, we saw only two small crocodiles. The boat operator explained that the water was not yet cold enough to encourage them out onto the warmer sandbanks.

Next day I crossed the Daintree River by ferry and rode through the Greater Daintree Rainforest, stopping and exploring at boardwalks set up along the way. Magnificent. Spectacular. Adjectives failed me! Even the persistent mosquitoes and the damp, humid air, could not distract from the amazing rainforest vistas. The canopy in places so thick the sun hardly penetrates; the diverse palms and ferns, the trees reaching towards the sky and the vines clinging to their hosts doing the same, the undergrowth alive with scurrying creatures who remained invisible no matter how silently I stood and watched. I saluted the conservationists whose efforts in the 80's prevented the exploitation of the forests - some of the oldest in the world. The resulting publicity also led to the Federal Government's seeking listing for the area. In 1988 Queensland's wet tropical rainforests were added to World Heritage lists.

Cape Tribulation is as far north as I could go on the coastal road. The bitumen peters out at the northern end of town. From there to Cape York Peninsula it's a 4x4 access only. I turned around and headed back south.

Gypsy had a service and check over at CBW Motorcycles in Cairns (as had been arranged with Chris prior to going north). Once again a clean bill of health - what a great little machine!

Up to the Atherton Tablelands. The air was cool and fresh. A welcome relief after the humidity of the Far North coastal areas. Butterfly sanctuary, waterfalls, and heritage village walks and a futile watch at a waterhole for the ever-elusive platypus followed.

Feeling refreshed in mind and spirit I ventured down to the 'lowland' again, taking the very scenic Palmerston Highway to Innisfail. The lush forest gradually gave way to the ubiquitous cane fields, and once again I braved the Bruce Highway, retracing my route towards Townsville.

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