Neil Armstrong was supposed to say this when he landed on the moon.  What he actually said was a bit different but after our recent trip to Hinchinbrook Island we decided we’d change it completely to “One small step for Luke, one giant leap for the rest of us”.  


Up Warilla Creek to Mount Bowen

In February Dave mentioned to Steve the Thorsborne Trail on Hinchinbrook Island as the place for a great holiday and a bit of a physical challenge.  There had been some talk earlier among locals up that way about some kind of run on the island but National Parks restrictions on numbers and logistics made it all too difficult.  Only 30 people are allowed on the trail at any time and competition for a slot is fierce.  Steve booked in February and just managed to get some of the very last opportunities before the wet season almost 9 months later.

Luke, Steve, Laimon and Parso headed off on Friday night with a boot full of so much gear you wouldn’t believe it.  Extra packs, spare clothes, walking sticks, mozzie coils, water bottles, machete, coils of rope, small gas cylinders, tents, torches and freeze dried food.  We knew we’d have to pare this down a lot before the actual walk – or take a small truck with us.

We arrived Saturday arvo in Cardwell about 160 ks north of Townsville and nearly 1500 ks from home before setting up at a camping site in the local van park.  We began a rigorous culling exercise of all the gear where we combined food options looking for economies of scale, decided we didn’t need to change our jocks every day for a week, ditched most safety gear in favour of anything practical that we knew we’d actually use and otherwise left behind anything that we couldn’t fit in or tie on, under or onto our back packs.

On a short walk before dinner Luke spied a large turtle near the jetty and immediately identified it as a “fat ass turtle”.  Over the course of the week we would learn that this was a common adjective applied to basically anything and generally meaning something unusual or unique.  Why can’t David Attenborough commentate his wildlife documentaries so enthusiastically?

Morning saw us on the ferry across to the northern tip of the island and enjoying the view, especially the young German tourists who left us for the Resort.  Transfer from ferry to large tinnie for a short squirt up a narrowing gap in the mangroves before a stroll along the boardwalk and over dunes onto our first beach, Ramsay Bay.  From here we walked south a couple of hours to Little Ramsay Bay, adjacent to a large freshwater lagoon where we set up camp for the night.

Steve had been chatting to some bushwalkers the previous week at Binna Burra and mentioned the upcoming trip.  “You must climb Mt Bowen” he was told and of course we just can’t ignore a challenge can we?

Mt Bowen was more or less west of our camp at Little Ramsay Bay and is accessed by following Warilla Creek which feeds the lagoon.  We had a dated topo map and some trail notes from Parks with the warning being to ignore major left hand branches in the creek.  We started out early on day 2 and we are still not completely sure where we went wrong as most of the trail is marked with distinctive rock cairns, but somehow we ended up a creek without the proverbial paddle.  It was obvious from the contours on the map that it was steep but in fact it was an impassable rock wall at this point so we backtracked down to the main creek and headed on, only to find yet again that the branch we must have taken was still wrong and came face to face with another sheer rock face.

We could see from the map what we thought was the first creek just a few hundred metres to the north of our position so decided to follow the rock face uphill.  At the top of the contour we had to strike out north across dense scrub with small but tall saplings about 30 cm apart.  You had to thread your way through or just push the trees out of your way.  We finally made it to the next creek but not before we were further torn to shreds by a plant known as Hairy Mary or Yellow Lawyer Cane which we quickly christened “Flamin’ Mongrel Vine”.  This stuff sticks to anything, including your skin, like wossname to a blanket and closely resembles a chainsaw blade.  If you don’t realise it’s got you and keep going it’ll remove anything it’s attached to – including your skin.

We had to follow the creek down hill against our preferred direction of travel hoping to reach its junction with the main creek which we needed to then follow back uphill to the saddle north of Mt Bowen.

It was a lot easier out of the scrub to rock hop along but of course the best laid plans of mice and men must oft turn pear shaped eh?  Waterfall, sheer drop, very scenic, impassable – crap. So cross country it was again through even heavier scrub, and more Flamin’ Mongrel Vine before we finally made the main creek and saw, to much relief, the reassuring rock cairns and even some marker tape heading back up the hill.

We had to follow the creek which was a litter of rocks and boulders of every size and shape from pebbles to mammoths the size of a building, uphill and keep our feet dry while hemmed in on every side by increasingly dense rain forest.  The water is crystal clear with some wonderful clean deep pools, lazily circling fish and yabbies virtually untroubled by our passing.

And it was here that 15 year old Luke demonstrated the confidence and agility that’s a long time past for us old plodders.  He stepped from rock to rock while we leapt or hurtled ourselves like ancient cannon balls in decreasing arcs barely clearing ponds and scrambling for purchase on the other side.  Or being the first to struggle to the top of a particulary steep section, drenched in sweat and totally stuffed, to stare in disbelief at Luke waiting at the top, not even aware that somehow he passed you on the way up and wouldn’t blow out a candle as he waited.  This got me a little mad and maybe just a bit competitive too as we slogged it out uphill and I was determined to stay ahead of him.

Finally, at the saddle after maybe a hundred metres of clawing up a slippery dirt track we made the top of the climb….and yes, Luke was waiting there for us.  D’oh!


The saddle below Mount Bowen

We’d probably covered half again as much ground as we had to through our misdirected course but be warned if you try this, it’s not for the faint hearted and you need a good level of fitness to make the top – even if you are 15.  We dropped our packs and walked uphill toward the summit, brewed up and enjoyed the view back toward the mainland.  With mobile phone coverage here we phoned and messaged families and friends before returning to the saddle to camp, a little disappointed that the area was still heavily forrested and there were no clear views to seaward.  Leaving us for a pitstop and heading north rather than south, someone discovered a break in the trees, then another break in the bracken and the most spectacular views east over all of the mountain we’d covered that day and right down to the beach.  We pitched the tent here but Parso decided to sleep under the stars, or clouds and light drizzle as it turned out.


"Yes Mum....no mum....OK mum, yes mum....you too Mum..."

Still, a magic spot.  And no less impressive early next morning as we headed toward the summit.  This was a continuing uphill trek over rock outcrops, then scrub and more outcrops each a little higher than the last.  After about 90 minutes we made what we thought was the highest point.  We had to be satisfied that it was the peak because ahead of us was all downhill and further than a few hundred metres on all sides was thick mist or cloud.  At different times it did break up to give views in all directions but these were fleeting.  Without getting lost as we did we would have arrived earlier the previous day and made the top in excellent weather.  C’est la vie.

Back to the saddle, pack up and down that creek bed again.  Luke steps down while we take giant leaps, stopping for regular (mostly) planned dips in rock pools as the heat builds up and the day goes on.  Finally we make the beach and return to our previous camp, drop the packs and hit the surf.

Yes, we know there are warning signs everywhere about crocodiles and we know someone up this way was taken recently by a croc and we know that a relocated croc travelled many ks back to haunt tourist beaches that same week but it was hot, we were stuffed and it wasn’t as if there could be any real danger in the middle of the day, in broad daylight, in the open surf.

Pack up and walk south to Banksia Bay.  On the next beach striking for the upcoming headland before going inland and uphill to the new camp site, Luke and Laimon spot something in the water.  In the middle of the day.  In broad daylight.  In the open surf.

You guessed it, primordial amphibian quickly identified by Luke as a “fat ass crocodile”.  We estimate 4 or 5 metres long, a big mother, about 100 metres off the beach and lazily swimming around the headland.  A very sobering encounter considering our earlier dip.


Never smile

Overnight at Banksia Bay and after dinner a wary stroll well clear of the mangroves one side and the warm waters of the lagoon which covered a large part of the beach on the other.

We had a big hike the next day to make up for some of the time lost on the Mt Bowen leg.  We decided to head to Mulligans Falls which would then give us a short beach stroll the next day to meet the returning boat at George Point.  We made our way to Zoe Bay and then discovered a huge rock pool at the base of Zoe Falls with the same characteristic clear clean water.  I wondered why everyone was a little reluctant to jump in for a swim (slow learner), but when nothing bit me everyone followed.  Heading up the creek past Zoe Falls provided some spectacular views across the bay and out to sea.

The rest of the day involved some tough uphill slogs with the pay off being magic views east and south across various bays and beaches before a clear sighting of the 5.7 k pier on the mainland used for loading sugar cane.  We made camp at Mulligan Falls, another spectacular waterfall and deep pool before the final stretch next day, a slow beach stroll to the pick up point.

Back on the mainland we caught the bus back to Cardwell and headed north to Innisfail by car before camping at Bramston Beach.  We’d decided that if we felt fit enough we’d climb nearby Bartle Frere, Queenslands highest peak at 1622 metres.  This is a 15 kilometre round trip in mostly rainforest conditions before thinning to the treeline and boulder section near the false summit.  Beyond this there is another climb to the real peak.  We all found it much easier than Mt Bowen as the trail is well worn in most places and although steep it’s easier to climb without obstructions, with good footing on tree roots and scattered rocks.  With Luke in the lead again and the rest of us leaping to keep up we made the top in 3.5 hours where we lounged a bit, again deprived of a really good view by low cloud.  The trip down was….interesting with the front runners deciding they would try a bit of a jog, then a run, then a god damn fat ass sprint to the finish.  We had to, Luke pushed us all the way.  All up less than 6 hours including a few breaks – that’s rest periods not bones.

Josephine Falls was as good as we recalled from our last trip with Geoff W and a welcome cooling interlude after the hectic downhill rush.  Cooled off we hit the road again and arrived back home next day, clocking up around 3,200 ks in total.

Hinchinbrook in its own right without the Mt Bowen climb would have been a lot less strenuous but it was worth every bit of the climb to get to the top, and down again of course.  The Thorsborne Trail requires a reasonable level of fitness to complete comfortably and it is a wonderful place without doubt.  Bartle Frere was the cream on our tropical pavlova.  A great trip to a top spot.

Young Luke proved he can do anything he puts his mind to, even climb mountains slow enough so his elders can keep up.  And to conclude our lunar theme, we broadened his mind with some new music and lyrics which contemplate the gender specific effects of zero gravity on astronauts.  Just ask him.

Zoe Falls

Bloopers.

Laimon losing his spare shoes off his pack somewhere amongst a thousand rocks over several kilometres of any one of 4 or 5 creek beds on the way up to Mt Bowen.

Steve pulling his socks up to his knees and stuffing them full of leaves as makeshift shin pads – after all, harm could come to a young lad and he did fall in the water.  Bluebottle?

Luke falling asleep on the groundsheet outside his tent at Mulligans – then when Steve woke him up to go to bed he tried to enter his tent through the side wall, again and again.

Parso trying to burp the Australian Anthem after every water stop, Steve trying the same thing but with another part of his anatomy.

Finding Laimon’s spare shoes 24 hours later on the way back down Mt Bowen!