Cairns

These few days already feel like a whole new life again. So much has happened.

I was pretty groggy after arriving in Australia. No wonder. In Fiji, I had booked myself a particularly wonderful place to stay for the night near the airport. The kind with a security guard in the lobby, a deposit to leave behind, a chain lock on the door and strange bedding. Simply very cheap. Luckily, I have a sleeping bag and a mat with me.

The night was short, because I had to get up again just before five. So I arrived in Cairns already fairly worn out, but I was able to get into my room early and catch up on some sleep. Apart from that, I still had quite a bit of correspondence to deal with, which dragged on well into Friday.

When I finally got going and wandered through Cairns, I realised that I had arrived back in civilisation. Big supermarkets. Supermarkets with light. Shopping centres. A huge market for all kinds of things, a little like the Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne. I sadly never found one like that in Brisbane. There were cafés, restaurants and even a cinema.

And I have to admit, I had missed going to the cinema over the past few weeks. I think there was one on Samoa, but here there was one right in front of me. So, Mandalorian. Unfortunately. Not everything needs to be squeezed dry. Star Wars, it seems, has become nothing more than a milking machine. A shame.

That Friday, I realised: I am back in the first world. With one laughing and one crying eye.

But let us finally get to Cairns.

I had a few things on my list, and to my surprise I have to admit that I found the weather very pleasant. It is winter here now, and the climate was wonderful. Not too hot, not too cold. Not too cold for me, at least. For the Aussies, maybe. Hardly any humidity. The best weather to explore Cairns.

I wandered through the city, along the Esplanade, the waterfront promenade, through various galleries with local and international art, here and there. I drew my circles, and slowly they became wider. Cairns is quite nice, laid out in a square pattern and typically Australian, I would say.

At some point I found myself back in front of my hotel. Right next to it was a tourist information office, and I felt like having someone put something together for me. So I went inside.

Fran and I understood each other immediately. She practically adopted me.

How many days are you here?

Four.

Okay, what do you feel like doing? Snorkelling? Green Island?

I have had enough of islands like that over the past few weeks.

Okay, Outer Reef tour.

Good.

Kuranda by train?

Let us do that.

What else?

Rainforest and crocodiles. We have something for that here.

And on the fourth day, Cairns?

I said, I have already done Cairns today.

Okay, then white water rafting?

Come on, I can do that anywhere in the world. No.

Okay, okay, I see. How about an Egyptian pharaoh exhibition and the aquarium?

No?

How about waterfalls?

Okay.

Let me make some calls.

It was a very pleasant sales conversation. After five phone calls and a few minutes, I had a four day tour plan. She also asked whether I liked going out to eat. Next time I will say: not alone. This time I only said: uhhh. She sent me away with lots of tips on where I could eat well or have a beer.

The next morning, the bus stood in front of the hotel at eight o’clock. It took me and fifty others to the Kuranda Scenic Railway.

On Instagram, this train route is hyped as one of the most beautiful in the world. I had asked Fran whether it would be possible to take the train there and back. She told me that this option was not really intended. Train one way, cable car the other way.

Cable car?

Yes, the longest cable car in the world, over the rainforest.

My fear of heights and I remained silent.

I thought about that while sitting on the train, this panoramic train with relatively old interior decor. But I like that kind of thing. Then came a safety briefing. On a train. Australia, of course. A safety briefing for riding a train. That is how they are here. No return trip by train in the programme, but a safety briefing. Okay.

Then we set off, slowly up through the rainforest. And I have to say, I have experienced more beautiful panoramic train rides in Europe. Maybe the wet season is better for this. The waterfalls along the route were not that impressive. Only the Barron Falls, where you stop and get out, were nice. The station in Kuranda was also nice. Very prettily done, with flowers and everything. My railway romantic heart blossomed a little.

Kuranda itself is more of a tourist trap. Those shops and places where the sign might as well say: give me your hard earned money. No, here. Give. Give. Give.

So, not really my thing.

I went to eat something, and what was on the menu? Crocodile, kangaroo and all those kinds of delicacies. I stuck with chips.

Luckily, Fran had put together a trip for me where I could return relatively early. She had probably sensed that Kuranda would not really be my thing. So I went to the cable car station. I was still unsure as I stood in line. And I was still unsure when I was already sitting in the gondola.

There was another safety briefing through the window, then we were off to the first station. Barron Falls again, only from the other side. In principle, I did not wet my pants too badly because of the height. That only happened at the first platform, where you can get out and walk along a boardwalk to look at the Barron Falls again. That was when my fear of heights briefly grabbed me. Three hundred metres straight down.

The cable car ride over the tropical rainforest was pleasant, despite the wind and the height. On the contrary, I began to enjoy it. At the second station there was another walk, and then we went down to the valley station.

To be honest: the cable car ride was the highlight of that day.

On Sunday, I had booked the Outer Reef. As I said, I did not want another island like that. I wanted something different. And that is what I got.

I was late and checked in on the boat almost at the last moment. I nearly missed the safety briefing, the first of many that day. There would be rough seas today. Anyone who needed seasickness medication should speak up.

I thought I would risk it.

The boat was fully booked, with almost a hundred people, and at the stern there was a platform with diving tanks and everything. The first few minutes at sea were still quite alright. Then I suddenly saw pale fellow travellers. The crew suddenly had gloves on. A sour smell hung in the air. Vomit bags were handed around. The boat went up and down.

I do not know why, but I actually felt fine the whole time. Until five minutes before we arrived. Then I got up, grabbed two vomit bags, went out on deck, and there went the coffee into the first bag and my chocolate breakfast into the second. Luckily, no chunks. A friendly crew member brought me a little wipe so I could clean my beard.

That was it. Then we were already about forty kilometres off the coast. I could have held that back too, especially because I did not actually feel that bad. I think I just vomited out of sympathy.

Then came the second safety briefing, this time for the snorkellers, while the divers went overboard. After that, we were allowed into our suits. We were supposed to wear them because of the jellyfish. They are serious to deadly. It was not actually the season, you do not have to wear the suits, we only recommend it.

And then we were in the water.

To give truth its due: it was really good. You step off the boat, and beneath you there is first only water. You can see the bottom ten metres down, and then you swim over to the coral banks and snorkel around there. It is impressive. Impressive nature. Impressive fish.

Then we moved on to the second spot.

Between the first and second snorkelling session, I heard a lot of German on deck and listened in. There was one of them. One of those young guys who thinks that enough self confidence is the same thing as enough knowledge. Every second sentence was about having finished university and all the places he had been in Australia on his work visa. He was talking at either a few American women or a German couple.

Oh God. If you can describe forklift driving in a hardware store as high end experience in sales, then you deserve your bachelor’s degree in marketing. I wish I were that magnificent.

The second spot on the reef was by far the best. I skipped lunch and was one of the first in the water, relatively alone. And it was awesome.

Between the second and third stop, I let myself be entertained again by the bombast on deck before I went into the water a third time. This time it was rather cloudy, and the current was quite strong. Before every swim, by the way, there was yet another safety briefing about the swimming area.

Incidentally: despite the rough seas, you could stand outside at the bow, separated from the Pacific only by a thin wire rope. In those seas, you could have fallen over it quite easily. Sometimes I really wonder what all those safety briefings are for when the actual safety equipment is so poor. At the latest when we moored, and one of the staff climbed unsecured over the railing to take the rope from the pier, I shook my head in disbelief. If that goes wrong, it is no joke. I have seen someone fall overboard before. An open fractured elbow is not a pretty thing.

On the way back, I stayed at the front of the bow and got talking to a young Australian. He admired my camera and asked where I was from. His name was Matt, he liked riding horses, came from Toowoomba, about 160 kilometres west of Brisbane, and once a year in spring they have a carnival there, that is what they call it. Apart from that, normally nobody from outside ever comes there.

He had moved to Cairns a few months earlier for work and thought it was great to meet people from all over Australia, and also people from much farther away. I told him about diving in New Caledonia. He asked me where that was. I showed him and told him that a ticket there was not even that expensive. I think he had never been very far away.

Then came the third day and the third tour. By jeep to the Daintree.

I was standing downstairs at the hotel at seven o’clock. The minibus stopped, and two people got out, Marc and Steve. That is how they introduced themselves. Steve asked where I was from. I said Germany, and he immediately started talking to me in German.

We picked up another thirteen Australians. The last one got in and said: Hi, I am Chrissi, and this is the first time in my life that I have been this far away from home. She was from Brisbane and forty five years old. And that is exactly how she was.

Then we set off, with a short briefing during the drive. There are vomit bags up here. If you need one, let us know.

Hi, I am Steve, he said into the microphone, and I am full of stories.

And he was. He talked all day. And every anecdote, every little story, was great. He had won me over at the latest when he shouted into the microphone: Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, and the minibus answered: Oi, oi, oi. Then he added dryly: Where did we actually get this oi, oi, oi from? It is a bit cheap.

Today we were not international at all, he said with regret. Only one German on board. That day I learned a lot about sugar cane and sugar production. Eleven kilograms of sugar cane make one kilogram of sugar. About mangos, which come from India. About tree kangaroos, yes, they really exist. About how in 2023, four metres of water fell in three days, not litres, metres, and washed away many roads. Why there are no monkeys in the Australian rainforest, even though some were released. Correct, the fruit is poisonous too. I learned about the cassowary, that famous flightless bird, about fruit production in Queensland, James Cook and Cooktown, the Second World War and the Battle of the Coral Sea, about Aboriginal people, Women’s Business and Men’s Business, about how Aboriginal people found out whether something was poisonous and how they used toxins. About crocodiles. Have you seen Scarface? He is the king of the river. That is fantastic. And why dogs should not be near bodies of water. Yes, they serve as snacks for crocodiles. Heartbreaking. It was about Chinese sugar production, bouncing stones and the curse attached to them. Where the jellyfish go in winter, polyps and medusae. I could not take in that much. It was a flood of information.

Hi, I am Steve, he said into the microphone, and I am full of stories. He always used that sentence to end a topic.

We went to waterfalls, the Mossman River and Port Douglas. I was immediately warned: You have a camera. If you are one minute late, I will leave without you. I know you photographers, said Steve. But he knew that we Germans are punctual and efficient. He had also been to Germany and likes East Germany more than Spain. That is saying something. And did you know, he said to the bus, that Germans also call themselves Ossis?

Then we went to the Daintree River, by boat to look for crocodiles. We were successful. Scarface was present. At lunch, we got talking to Steve. The Aussies wanted to know whether he was a Queenslander. He said yes, but not from here. He was from Toowoomba.

My cue.

One hundred and sixty kilometres west of Brisbane, big spring carnival.

I had him.

I love different cultures, I said with a wink.

After lunch, there was another lesson about tropical fruits, then we continued to Cape Tribulation. What a pothole road. All the way to a beach where the tropical rainforest touches the Pacific directly.

And then we simply went back. That was the end of the road. Farther north, there is nowhere to go here. As simple as that. End of the line.

Back over the pothole road and the Pacific Highway, past the northernmost traffic lights in Queensland, right next to the northernmost Woolworths in Australia, in Port Douglas.

At some point I was back at the hotel, around seven in the evening. I said goodbye to Steve and told him I would be doing the waterfall tour the next day.

He said he would too.

The next morning, Steve stood in front of the door with his bus. The bus was not really full, only seven people. He said: This is Ralph. He is from Germany, he is a professional photographer, and today he is sitting in the front passenger seat.

We set off with a briefing about vomit bags and so on. Then he said into the microphone again:

Hi, I am Steve, and I am full of stories.

And up we went into the Highlands, as he called them. The ascent was magnificent, truly. With all those bends and curves, it reminded me of the Alps. Gillies Highway. And of course there were stories.

About the Cathedral Fig Tree, again about tree kangaroos, about highland and lowland rainforest, this time bananas instead of mangos, of course sugar cane, Wooroonooran National Park, volcanoes, Lake Barrine, Millaa Millaa Falls and waterfalls in general, Innisfail and the mafia, Mount Bartle Frere, the highest mountain in Queensland at 1,611 metres, Gympie and the meaning of the name. Poisonous plants, again the cassowary, and finally Paronella Park.

Hi, I am Steve, he said into the microphone, and I am full of stories.

Paronella Park is truly interesting and has an interesting story. A Spaniard had a vision about eighty years ago and built a park by a waterfall. It was certainly once beautiful to look at. Maybe it was once functional too. But the rainforest takes things back. It is still nice to look at, but no longer functional. Beautiful photos, great tour.

On the way back, Steve asked the Australians whether that had been a castle. And they said yes, it had been so beautiful, it had to be a castle.

I could not keep my German mouth shut and said: That is not a castle.

What is it then?

A decayed and rotten cottage in the rainforest.

For a moment, it was quiet. Really quiet in the bus.

And then they burst out laughing. They liked it. Steve said he would use that on his future tours.

In that sense.