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Monday 7th October

We finally left Cairns today and, while eager to move on, I realised that I would miss the place. Fo was actually happy to go as she will probably always associate Cairns with our near death experience. I, on the other hand, really liked its slightly manic atmosphere and the fact that even I could exercise on the Esplanade and not feel out of place. Our ride out of town was a Greyhound bus and I am a little embarrassed to admit that, at 56, it was my first such journey. The seats were probably a little wider than that on an economy class flight, but not by much. Our fellow travellers were a mixed bag and we were not the oldest by any means. Most had clearly travelled this way many times before and soon settled down to pass the time quietly. And so it remained until a party of youngsters from the UK (Mancunians I think) boarded and started shouting to each other down the length of the bus. Apologies to anyone we know from Manchester but sometimes it's really embarrassing being a Brit abroad.

 

We arrived for our short stay in Townsville very tired, cramped and a little less than certain about using Greyhound again. It was too late to do anything other than grab a quick supper and fall into bed. The following day we walked into town along the seafront and the contrast with Cairns, the party town, was stark. It was quiet and very few people were about, and those we did see were our side of 40. Most notably there seemed to be no backpackers around, probably deterred by Townsville's positive steps to make the place family friendly.

Finding Nemo proved challenging. Dopplegangers everywhere.

Our main purpose of the day was a visit to Reef HQ, a kind of Sealife world that included an artificial coral reef set in an enormous onshore tank, a turtle hospital and numerous other aquariums (aquaria??) and exhibits. It's obviously not the same as snorkelling on the reef itself but it was done well and we spent most of the day here. And the real bonus was that the school holidays had finished!

The turtle hospital was a low-key affair tucked behind the main building. It relies on charity donations as well as a little state funding and, with the recent victory of Tony Abbott and his Liberal party here in Oz, staff were not optimistic that funding would continue for much longer.

One of the larger turtles recuperating prior to release. This one is
probably over 60 years old. This, I think, was a loggerhead, a species
which doesn't reach sexual maturity until aged well into its 50s.
There's hope for me yet.

Still there were about 12 turtles currently in care who would probably not have survived had the unit not existed.
They come in with a variety of ailments that include floating sickness, propeller damage, shark or croc attack and lung infections. Those that recover are returned to the ocean as soon as possible. As far as I could tell it was the only such unit in Queensland, unlike in Sri Lanka where, earlier this year, we encountered a turtle ' sanctuary' every few miles around the island. These sanctuaries were, however, little more than thinly-disguised tourist attractions. Nor were most of the turtles rescued, they were hatched, most likely, from eggs that had probably been taken from a beach illegally.



A deep propeller wound. One of the
lucky ones to be found and treated.

That said, I have no real idea which of these two approaches is the most beneficial to the turtle population so perhaps I should stop making judgements until I know a little more.
 

View along Townsville's main beach from
a beachfront bar. I am struggling to
remember what a cloud looks like.

Our walk back in the late afternoon heat was debilitating so we simply had to stop for a cold beer at a beach-front bar. It took great resolve to tear myself away from the cool breeze and comfy chair (not forgetting the cold beer) but we eventually resumed the walk back.

Back at base, we finished the day by tucking into barbecued hoki fillets, corn and asparagus; washed down with a chilled Aussie sauvignon blanc while we sat outside our apartment under a cloudless night sky. It was tough going but sometimes you just have to slum it.

Sometimes all a chap can do is sit in the shade of a welcoming tree on the bank of a lazily flowing river and wonder why he's not batting at number three for England.

 

Townsville Day 2 and 3