Time to leave

 

With some reluctance, we again broke camp and went into Bamaga to resupply for our return journey down the cape.

Just before the Jardine ferry, a track goes close by the river, we followed it, as we do. There was evidence of it once being blocked off, as in a barricade lying on the ground. We continued, being prepared to turn back if necessary. About half way down we came to a huge washout in the track, obviously the reason for the broken down barricade. There was a bypass track around, a bit tight and rough, but I considered it doable, around we went. The dip we had to negotiate had a steep departure and the tow bar dug into the base of the dip on the way out, threatening to leave us stuck, but Ned grunted, lurched, and heaved himself free. Huge anthills are all over here, standing proud against the elements. A few tight turns, and we were back on track again.

Made the ferry for one of the last crossings for the day, we considered camping on the bank and crossing the next day, but the fly's there were gathering in droves, so we decided to cross and camp up the road a bit. Boarding the ferry, we waved to the operator and he threw it into gear and hauled us to the opposite bank. An old roadworks quarry, not far up the road, was our stop for the night.

30k south of the ferry was the picture plant creek camp we found on the way up, so next day we set our sights on there. Arriving, we were glad to see it deserted. Quickly setting up camp, we felt at home at our little oasis again. During the day, as we sat and watched the crystal clear water cascade over the small waterfall, a freshwater turtle glided by, gracefully sailing from the depths of the small pool to the surface and poking his head out for a breath of air.

Soon he was joined by two others, they effortlessly floated about poking here and there looking for a tasty morsel to pounce on. When they noticed that they were not alone, they didn’t seem to perturbed, the bigger one would surface close to the bank and have his head out of the water and quite intently stare into our eyes. 

Din soon had some mince out and threw them bits. They would scramble to the mouthful and had to fight for it with the several small fish who honed in on it too. We were surprised we didn’t notice them last time we were there, maybe we were too busy looking at the wonderful plant life surrounding the creek and didn’t notice the aquatic inhabitants.

They, however got our attention this time, being unafraid, but cautious, they would come to the small pool each day from further up the creek, and frolic about, stopping at times for a breath and stare at us saying hello. With water so clear, a sandy bottom scattered with fallen leaves, they were easy to observe, playing out their daily lives, foraging and interacting with each other. 

 

Also, while observing the goings on in the creek, a ulissies butterfly alighted on an overhanging branch, it’s large wings pulsing, revealing flashes of brilliant blue as it rested. Unfortunately, it fluttered off out of sight before I could get the camera. Another special time spent communing with nature in all her glory.

We spent six days there, observing the turtles and relaxing, cooking bread, another roast, a cake, enjoying the solitude. However, we couldn’t stay forever, so the day came when we broke camp and headed south.

Back to Mutee

 

Back to Mutee Head and the turtle beach, we pulled up and our old spot was free, though another two campers were set up not far away. It was Friday, so we set up camp for at least till after the weekend.

New turtle tracks were evident along the beach, we tried our luck at fishing, but, with no big ones taking to our hooks, or even little ones for that matter, we gave it away and retreated to the shade of camp. A couple of bush turkeys were hanging around camp, scratching about for any crumbs. While collecting firewood I stumbled on their nest, a huge mound of scratched up sandy soil around some saplings.

In the afternoon, a boat with three indigenous fellas pulled up at the beach and two got out and began digging in the sand. Din went down to chat and soon called for me to bring the camera. When I arrived the men had pulled out a dozen or so eggs from their hole. They told us these were Flat-back turtle eggs and good tucker. 

They, as indigenous to the area, have the right to harvest the eggs for eating, as well as Dugong and turtle and other sea life that is off limits to others. They never completely deplete a nest but take just enough for a feed, there could be over a hundred eggs in one nest alone. When done they offered us two eggs to try if we liked. With that opportunity presenting itself we could not refuse, thanking them, we took the eggs and they continued on their way. We think it was very welcoming and generous for them to share with us, these interactions are what make our travels so enjoyable.

In the morning, I boiled up the eggs, as was instructed, and had them with toast. The yoke cooks firm but the white is more like a jelly, when put in front of Din, she studied it for a time then decided to forego the experience. I ended up eating both eggs. Not tasting like chicken eggs, but not unpleasant ether, as was told to us, they taste like turtle eggs. Tried one with salt and hot sauce as recommended by our egg digging mates, it was well worth the trying. 

Five days spent at Mutee Head, this was one of our most favourite camps. More turtle tracks and hatch ling tracks in the mornings, but even getting up at two in the morning to catch high tide, no turtles spotted.

On the last evening spent at Mutee, Turtle Beach, high clouds rimmed the sky, making the setting sun appear as a huge orange globe as it approached the horizon. As it descended, the colours transformed the scene into a real life depiction of the aboriginal flag, a fitting farewell to our Pajinka adventure.

Punsand

 

Back on the Pajinka road, travelling south we came to the Punsand Beach turn off. At the intersection, the Crock Tent sits. This tent, literally a tent, is a souvenir shop, lots of cars were parked and every one was shopping for their cape nick knacks. Unfortunately, most were made in China. It didn’t stop them though, they bought up big, everything, with I’ve been to the cape plastered over it. Din did get some little things for the grand-kids.

Leaving them to it, we continued on to Punsand. The camp ground was also doing a roaring trade, booked out for weeks, not that we were interested in camping there.

As Din missed out on seeing the actual tip of Australia, we inquired about the helicopter flight operating from there. It would be a shame to come all this way and not be able to go the last 800m. We booked a flight, we don’t often spend up big on non essential things, but this was worth it. After being delayed for an hour or so because of rain squalls around the tip, we were told it was on. 

With the rotor of the helicopter rapidly gaining momentum, our pilot checked all was good with his machine, and us, then said, “OK we’re off”, as the skids left the sand and we gained height over the ocean the islands dotted around the coastline came more sharply into view. Skirting the coast, we travelled north. Din in the front, next to the pilot and me in the back, with the noise of the rotors and shuddering of the motor, as well as the wind blowing through the open doorways filling our senses. Then, banking to the right, we were rounding the very top of Australia. The rugged, rocky point jutting out into the ocean with Wamilug(York Island) only a stones throw away from the tip. Hovering for a few moments, then moving down the east coast for a bit we surveyed the craggy coastline, then retraced our flight path, a bit further out this time, over some small islands and eventually landing back on the beach.

Another experience that will stay with us forever. Thanking our young pilot, we headed for the bar and had a drink and recounted the experience.

Up the track a bit was a free camp by the beach, off we went up the somewhat rough, sandy track, with poor old Ned tipping at impossible angles at some parts due to one wheel track dropping down far below the other in some washouts, he kept his balance however and we made it through. Finding a level patch by the beach we set up camp. Next day it was back south for us, as more and more campers were turning up where we were. We called into Uncle Toms place, the man we met at Loyalty beach camp, and had lunch with him, of chicken and chips, which we had bought at Seisia on the way through.

He was slow cooking a huge fish on a grill, over a small fire, he had caught the fish in the creek that morning.

“Him a bone fish, going to be for the cat”, he said, “too many bones” although he said he would probably have some himself. He was very welcoming, but we didn’t camp as I think he had others coming to stay. After another good chat, we said a fond farewell, and continued on.

Somerset and beaches.

 

Eleven k from Pajenka, the turn off to Somerset veeres to the left, so did we. Another 7k on, after another rainforest drive, we turned onto the road that takes you to the beaches. Around the headland of Narau beach followed the road down the hill side to a point overlooking Nanthau Beach. The ground was not very level, but we found a reasonable spot at the bottom near the road. No one about, and spectacular views, convinced us to stay.

Stands of Pandanas were dotted about the rocky shoreline. Strong gusts of wind blustered in from the ocean, we didn’t mind, everything on Ned was secured and the wind fought oof the heat and even the most determined mozzie or sand fly could not compete against that wind.

While sitting in the doorway and looking at the sea and shoreline, turtles could be seen raising their heads for gulps of air as they foraged for food amongst the rocks. Glimpses of them could be had as the sun shone through the swells, they seemed to surf the waves underwater.

The track that continues on to Somerset from there winds across headlands and down onto beaches. A couple we met at the turtle beach camp came by and stopped for a chat and informed us the track was very tight in places and it would be hard for us to get through. With this information on board, we decided to back track and get to Somerset by the main road. Glad we came this way to have a look.

Somerset, the site of a former cattle station and the first administrative centre at Cape York established in 1864 by John Jardine, who the river is named after.

There is a camp site on the beach, which we called into. A beautiful spot with mangroves at each end of the beach and Albany Island not far away.

Pajinka,(The Tip)

 

The track we wanted to take to the main road to the Tip was impassable due to a washed out creek crossing, so it was back to Bamaga and on the main road from there.

When you get about 20k from the top, the country you pass through alternates from savanna woodland to large pockets of tropical rain forest, you wind through tunnels of towering trees surrounded by palms and ferns, with vines twisting their way amongst the foliage. Orchids are poised in the canopy and on trunks of ancient looking trees. A magical journey through a natural wonderland.

As we rounded the last bend, before the car park at the top, we passed the remnants of a once 5 star resort. The cabins and larger buildings, lay, decaying, the rain forest slowly reclaiming the ground they occupied. In years gone by, Ansett Airlines owned the resort, hoping to capitalize on the tourist trade coming to Pajinka (the Tip), but, for some reason the venture failed to be profitable. So eventually the government of the day bought out the owners and the resort was handed to the indigenous councils of the area, but they also failed to make it profitable. Today it is abandoned, laying waste, waiting to be reclaimed by the environment. It seems a shame, but there are enough tourists wandering about without commercializing the place even more.

Around the bend, the car park for the walk to the edge of the continent came in sight. Din talked to a local sitting on a four wheeler in the shade while I did the obligatory walk to the tip. At low tide you can walk around the beach to the rocks, but you still have to scramble over a couple of hundred of meters of rocks to get there. Din couldn’t do the rocks, even though the local offered to take her on the bike up the beach, she declined his offer

.

Pajinka

Once at the tip, a group of people asked me if I would take their photo at the sign, in turn one of them took mine. Making your way back you can go over the rock to the car park, which I did. Panoramic views await you at the top. It was the middle of the day and hot, I was glad to be back at the vehicle, about an 800m walk.

Loyalty Beach Camp

 

Making our way back to Bamaga Road, we traveled the 10k to Injinoo, a small community on the coast. Another 7k east we rolled into Bamaga, the main community on the Tip. While there we topped up our grocery supplies from the well stocked supermarket, then topped up our fuel. Seisia, the port where the ferry to Thursday Island leaves from is about 10k north. It is also where the barge that brings all the supplies and goods to the communities docks. We went to have a look.

Some 4k north of Seisia is Loyalty Beach, it has a paid camp ground with a resturant and bar. Not being our type of camp, and knowing it would be packed we didn’t call in, but continued up the road a few k and found some tracks leading to the coast. Following one of the tracks we emerged at the beach. There were several lean to shelters and bits and pieces scattered up and down the foreshore. Obviously locals part time camps. No one was about, so we claimed a shady spot with a table under a tree.

The setting sun threw beams of light through the low hanging clouds, silhouetting the barge as it passed by, heading back around the tip after unloading at Seisia. Sea birds swooped and flew past as did a helicopter, taking people to hover over the tip and skirt the coastline.

In the morning, after breakfast, an old indigenous man was wandering up the beach, casting out a lure. He came in line with our camp and Din, as she does, went down and started to chat. I packed up camp and joined them.

He was fishing for squid, up the beach a little way was his camp. His wife was at home looking after the grand kids. “Too many of them.” he said, so he told her he was going out to the camp to fish. His right arm hung loose by his side, paralysed, from an old football injury, but the hand worked fine, “I get by”, he said. We had a good chat and he told us he was originally from Bardoo Island, a little way off the tip, and said this was not a good camp on the weekend for us as sometimes the locals come out and drink too much. “Next time you are this way, you come to my camp and stay, you be OK there”, he said. We thanked him very much and said we would.

Mutee Head

 

The sound of the small waves breaking on the shore wafted on the gentle breeze to our camp at Mutee Head. Shade from the native almond tree made the days cooler yet there was enough sun on our panels on the roof to keep the batteries topped up.

Walking along the beach in the morning, you could see tracks of dingoes patrolling by night. Also there were turtle tracks up the sand to above high tide mark, where they make nests of sand and lay their eggs. This was breeding time.

Also, in the damp sand, tiny tracks of newly hatched turtles as they climb from their nests and make their way to the sea. Dingoes roam the beach hoping for an easy meal as the hatchlings scamper for the water. Crocks too, hang about the area in bigger numbers at this time of year, for the same reason we were told by one of the indigenous rangers.

We had been at this camp for four days, not in any hurry to leave, when a 4x4 with 3 rangers pulled up and unloaded five long coppers logs onto the beach. Din got to talking to one of them and he passed on some info about the area. As they left, he asked if we could keep an eye on the logs till they come to pick them up with their boat in a couple of days, we agreed, it gave us an excuse to hang about for a couple more days.

During the night at high tide, the turtles come up to lay their eggs, I waited till high tide one night and went to see if any were coming. Didn’t get to see any that night, so had to be content with examining the tracks and the mounds in the small dunes.

Spent a relaxing, enjoyable week at Mutee Head, with I must say, reluctance, after the rangers picked up their logs, we packed up and continued our trek to the tip.

On the way out, we took a road that led to the Jardine River, near the mouth, not far from where we camped.