It was 4 days since we’d left our Brisbane home and until then it had seemed like it wasn’t so much about the journey as the destination. You see me and the long suffering missus have dragged the Jayco Penguin west to the heart of Australia, south as far as you can go to the bottom tip of Tasmania and now we were heading north, planning on getting as far as you can, pretty much, without a serious 4 wheel drive and a recovery kit (let’s face it, the way near-disaster follows me around, I’d need more than a recovery kit). Finally, we were now in Far North Queensland, though where exactly that line starts is a bit blurry. Some guides say Cairns, some Proserpine, but I choose to think it’s marked by a bloody great fibreglass mango in Bowen at the information centre.
After partaking in some frozen mango at the information centre (highly recommended) we continued the plod north towards our destination, but first we had to make it passed the ubiquitous roadworks and cane trains.
A brief stop in Townsville for lunch at the Palmetum. A while back we’d entered the Ross River Region, which you may have heard of for the famous Ross River Fever.
We’d managed to outrun the rain, but with darkening skies and mozzies getting a bit too friendly at the Palmetum we were on the move again and out of Townsville in a half an hour.
I was looking forward to be taking a day’s break from the stress of dragging a one and a half ton camper trailer around. Not that it’s too difficult, but as anyone who’s towed anything for a few thousand kilometres will tell you, at times it feels like a tonne and a half dag hanging from the CX5’s rear end. It restricts where you can go and what you can see. It also adds a level of complexity to the driving experience that only caffeine or rest can overcome.
With the Jayco setup at the Crystal Creek Caravan park, we had a base for a couple of nights, giving us a full day of touring the area the following day.
It rained that night, but not enough to dampen our spirits. I maintain that if you want to checkout rainforests and don’t expect rain, (I mean it’s right there in the name, people) you haven’t done enough research.
Crystal Creek is right on the edge of the Paluma Range National Park. I knew little about it. Only that it was on our journey north, and is the lower edge of the rainforesty bit on the Queensland map.
By morning, the rain had passed and we headed off on our daytrip. With snacks and caffeine in hand we set off to go up the range to Paluma village, nestled in the bosom of the national park.
Now remember this for later. This is a very narrow winding road 
With cliffs on one side 
Winding narrow roads all the way. 
Now this is why I needed to offload the Penguin. 
And boulders too can be a problem 
But not Noah’s Ark 
But a great view 
Fog and bends is no place for a caravan. You’d have to be a special kind of crazy to tow your van up here..
First stop was Little Crystal Creek. This is where the narrow winding road reaches a bridge, a a stone bridge. It’s a good place to get some pictures of the falls and judge a couple of people’s sanity for dragging a van up the winding road. According to Google maps, the road would wend, wind and hairpin its way to Paluma, 11 kms away.
Little Crystal Creek. The handcut stone bridge is a great little aside. 
Either braver or crazier than me. I wouldn’t bring a van up that road. 
A promising start 
The Bridge at Little Crystal Creek. 
Waterfall 
A peek into another world 
My lovely partner in nature. 
Postcard. 
And then someone’s got to go and ruin it. 
This is how you screw a tree into the ground. 
Hand cut stone 
Tool marks. 
Don’t call unemployed people dole bludgers. Just don’t. This place was built on their sweat and blood. Just saying
Driving further up the range, past spectacular views, small waterfalls and bloody big rocks (see Noah’s Arc photo above) we entered a sort of misty wonderland where rainforest trees line the wriggling road. When you reach the top, Paluma village emerges from the fog like an Aussie Brigadoon. I half expected elves, but flowerpot men greeted us instead. There’s the basic village essentials, cafes and the like, but we were here for nature and the surrounding Rainforest is worth a visit.
Paluma rainforest walk is a moderate track winding down and down further into the valley. Rifle birds give piercing whips in the trees above, but are hard to see. There’s a lot of birdlife in the soggy forest, though seeing them is hard as they blend into the bush. After doing a lot of down comes the inevitable ups, the root covered track winding back up into the middle of the village.
Satisfied with the morning’s touring, we headed back to camp. As we descended back along the serpentine road, fog gave way to mist followed by blue skies. After some lunch and some much needed clothes washing, we spent the afternoon exploring Big Crystal Creek, a picturesque little swimming hole not far from the caravan park.
Beyond the picnic ground and bush campsite is another natural wonder, the Rock Slides. Far from being a landslide site, the creek here creates many little waterslides. Too cold for this Old Fart’s bones, but I suspect a great place in high summer.
All good things come to an end, and we had several thousand kilometres of country to see. Returning to the van and the mundane duties of washing and food.
We prepared for the next stage in the Journey, 185 Kilometres north. Paronella Park, an out of the way gem on the old highway, but that’s for next time.
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Okay, so as you remember, the weather at Cradle Mountain was like this.
Just like any other.
But look closer.
Art is everywhere.
Murals adorn the buildings
Art hangs on the walls.
And even celebrating 
Celebrating a local business that almost made it big. It’s a sad tale.
Some of it traditional.
Some of it modern
But all of it with it’s own special style
You see, Sheffield is home to the 
Travels With An Old Fart 