Here We Go Again - Chapter 38 - Cairns Day 6

25 years Robyn and I have been married today. This time, early in the morning, 25 years ago we were preparing for our wedding. My sons and I were awakening at the home of my best man as our very good friend Christine had arrived at Balmain to do her magic on the hair of all concerned. We were married on the banks of the river at Parramatta in an idyllic position. 

Today the idyllic part of the wedding will continue as we trip the Sky Rail and the train to Kuranda where we shopped in earnest yesterday but left the markets for perusal today.

Pick up is planned for 12.20pm so we have the morning for “other” things. Shopping for the ensuing part of the trip comes to mind but we get started slowly and in a relaxed state of mind. Six days in one place can do that to you

Forbsy and I head over the road to a coffee shop to kill some time. Robyn has some work to do and we leave her in quiet. 

The coffee shop is quaint, like a lot of these small outlets. We order our choices, me a hot chocolate and Forbsy a Latte and banana bread and we settle outside at the tables outside the shop and wait. There are several patrons on the path. One, having sustained a leg injury is perched on a chair with a rather mechanical looking brace keeping his knee still. It looks painful and seems so every time he winces as he moves.

The banana bread arrives and we wonder where the banana may be in it. Thats not to say there are not lots of “other” treats involved in the delicacy, but banana seems to be in the minority. Forbsy attacks it with relish but muses it would be nice with the coffee he ordered. The coffee and the hot chocolate arrive as he commences the last quarter of his treat.

The shop must have an interesting spoon collection. I notice mine is from Burrinjuck Dam, a place not far from where I was born, whereas Forbsy has one from Canberra. I suspect they are an accumulation of travels.

Today though is all about the Scenic Railway

Its raining and the mist covers the very tops of the mountains we can see west of us. Undaunted we head out to the front of the van park to be picked up at the appointed time of 12.20pm. We had checked the time for fear there would be nowhere near enough time to get from our “digs” to the train station and onto the train for the 12.30pm. On the bus we realise we are not going to the train station but actually to the gondola point, and timing no longer becomes an issue. 

At the point where we got onto the bus, the driver took my receipt and replaced it with a brochure which had all the tickets etc embedded in it. I am the repository for everything planned for the day. Everyone will need to stay close or be in designated places at appointed times, or be left behind today.

The misty rain has set in. As we line up for our gondola, a staff member is busily attacking the windscreen front and back with a wiper. Futility given the outside conditions, but we will have a short burst of clean windows before the drizzle does its thing.

We are off. The jerk from the platform area to the cable proper is akin to the chairlifts on the ski fields as you would expect and we are soon screaming up the cable towards our destination. The view becomes spectacular very quickly as through the reducing rain we can see right across the thin coastal strip and out to the ocean. There are small areas of sunshine out there. Suggesting we may have a bit of luck.

Higher we climb, over the ever increasing height of the trees of the rainforest. Eventually we disappear into the mist. The notion of “Grillers in the Mist” as a tribute to Silver “Manu” Leader and his exploits with the barbeque create laughter around the gondola.

At one point we have to “change trains” – well gondola actually. Here a young man with a zest for life greets us. He is an emerging magician and “thrills” us with a sleight of hand trick as we alight the gondola. He beckons us down and around the tower, to either get on the next gondola or sample the views. We take the latter option. 

The falls and the viewing platform are worth the walk. Only one issue – well two really – the glass bottomed walk area is slick and with my treadless thongs (I have shod myself incorrectly for the day) I skate alarmingly along. The second, rather than having clear glass to be able to look through (and suffer vertigo) the glass has lettering on it “ruining the view”. Not that it matters, no one seems to want to look down, everyone on the “skating rink” is looking out in any event.

The thongs have become a health hazard and the first thing I will do when we get to Kurnada is find a shop with alternatives. We realight the gondola for the last short section to the town.

As we slow down for the final stop we are asked to turn around for the camera as another attendant rushes to wipe down the outside of the gondola. There is a flash and our pictures are taken. Out we get, still struggling to get our eyes right from the flash photography.

We were here yesterday, but started at the other end. I am a little disoriented by our arrival, but soon I am in the bazaar where I seek out the gentleman with the bamboo clothing shop. I want some shorts to go with the deteriorating pair I am presently wearing. Fish tale stains and general wear and tear are getting them to the point of replacement. There are still many good miles left in them but new ones are never unwarranted.

That shopping done, I look for the lady with the jewellery shop who was so helpful yesterday. Again she is able to point me in the right direction for some new foot wear. The shop she has suggested is nothing if not crammed packed with all things holiday and souvenir. We seek out the vendor and ask him about his wares. 

There are all sorts of thongs, from traditional to the exotic. I settle on some pimple-soled bright orange ones. The pimpling might just help my swollen ankles – you never know. Purchase complete, I am now feeling less stressed about slipping but struggling with the comfort level of the new purchase. I will walk it out.

Having reconnoitered the town yesterday we settle on the pie shop for lunch. The young attendant taking our order is surprisingly fresh in her approach to serving us. Pies and a cup of tea for Robyn are ordered and we settle down to enjoy them, and enjoy them we did, so much so I had to back for another one. The second pie, a beef and pepper selection, reminds me so much of the pies we used to get from the baker at Rye Park that I quickly take a photo and post on the Banks Family Reunion Facebook site.

Lunch is done and its time for more wandering and exploring. The shops here have a lot of art type things and without thinking I take some pictures of interesting artifacts only to be asked not to. At that point I notice the sign saying no photography inside the store. No matter – I have what I wanted, and I am not a mind to recreate the nick nacks, just enjoy the image of them.

The train leaves at 3.30pm. We have told the others we will accumulate at 3.15pm so as not to miss it. Silver Leader suggests to Rose that means 3.00pm for her.

When Robyn and I get to the station, the others are already there. On the train we have an appointed carriage and seats. Carriage 1 is right at the back of the train. It will allow for all sorts of photographs as the train goes around curves or is digested by a tunnel (of this there are 15 on the way to our destination), lots of bridges and many places where the train appears to be simply hanging over the escarpment. 

Although we have four numbered seats we do not have anyone else in the six seat booth we are situated, making spreading out and looking forward rather than travelling backwards (a bad idea for the likes of Rose and myself who suffer from motion sickness). Add to that Silver Leader is feeling off after his second “jab” this morning and we are thankful for the room.

There is a commentary as we head down the line. Falls, bluffs and rainforest are all a part of the train ride. Our first stop is supposed to be at a station where the gorge and falls are evident, but we arrive in the mist, get caught in a rain shower and leave without the shots we were hoping for. I have opened the window so I can get uninterrupted shots. The rain is doing the right thing and staying on its side of the opening.

The history and the majesty of the trip are enhanced by the commentary. I can put the phone outside the carriage and sap the front of the train at times, and even though we are in the rear carriage I can get shots of the locomotives in places, at times seeming like another train across the way. The construction details of this railway, its use during the gold rush and the war are all a part of the commentary. You listen and you snap, engrossed in the history and experience. Towards the end of the train ride, we are in the outer suburbs and people are on their back decks waving to us. A wave that is returned with vigour.

We alight at Freshwater Station where our bus awaits us. Not to be outdone by the experience of the train trip or the other marvels of the day our bus driver “a crazy one armed man with $8 in the bank” is out to entertain us even more. He suggests he is gouging to put on some soothing music, then proceeds to sing himself – well hum in what you might suggest was Sheldon Cooper (Big Bang Theory) throat music is closer to the truth – to the hysterical joy of the crowded bus.

He captures the end of a conversation between two children and for the rest of the ride poor Osacr (8 years old), his love life (evidently he is being pursued by a 9 year old suitor) and many other things his parents will potentially have cringed about are explored. Nothing appears off limits and we suspect there might be an awful lot of explaining to do when that family gets home.

We alight, and the others have a surprise for us. They have planned and executing an anniversary dinner for us. Nothing dfalsh, just a tablecloth and a bottle of good wine to have with dinner. A lovely gesture and enjoyable end to an amazing day.