The road to Tickety-boo

Kangaroo Point, April 1983

We are about to leave Kangaroo Point in Brisbane and continue our journey north. The nights are getting cooler now and the sleeping bag is not enough. We need extra blankets. I let the sun warm me as I sit on the step outside the flat, sipping tea and looking out at the frangipani and paw paw trees where the fruit bats have done a raid through the night, leaving half eaten fruit all over the ground. We have spent almost four months in this old wooden collection of buildings from the 1920s, built on stilts to keep the tropical torrents of winter away from the door, and the windows with their ancient louvers always playing with the light at different times of the day. It has been our second home for a while now and I feel sad to leave. Elisabeth and Ron have been so kind during our stay, but I am sure they are looking forward to having the place to themselves again. We will miss them but there might be a chance we can catch up further down the track up north. They will be heading off to Bowen for the tomato picking season soon.

I finished my last shift at the Golden Circle Pineapple Factory last week and Jim, an old friend of James from Adelaide who now live here, wants to take us on a four-day camping trip south towards Surfers Paradise, to a place called Nimbin. He says it is about time we get to see the real Queensland.

Thursday, on the road

Jim is an adventures guy originally from Britain. He embraced the climate and simple lifestyle Queensland had to offer and after travelling around the world he eventually settled here. I met him some time ago when he visited us in Adelaide, and I liked him instantly. He is part dreamer and part scholar, easy to get along with and we share the love of music and nature and good food. He is an excellent cook, serving up marvellous exotic vegetarian delights. I look forward to spending more time with him and he has promised me an adventures road trip.

All three of us sit in the front of Jims slightly beaten-up white van as he slowly drives towards a place marked on the map as Crabbes Creek. We have packed our two-man nylon tent, sleeping bags, and a few necessities. Jim knows this road well and takes us to a beautiful beach where we spend a good part of the morning just walking. The sea is salty, crisp, and clear and the white sand seem to go on forever. We are completely alone in this piece of paradise, and it is peaceful to sit on the beach and talk as the wave’s crash against the sand.

Later in the day we head for the bush, driving along the sand dunes to a green grassy clearing where the wind and distant sound of the sea blends in with birds singing and the rustle of palm leaves. We set up camp for the night. I ask if there are snakes in the area and Jim tells me it is too cold at this time of the year. I know he is not telling the truth. I heard a story of a python seen on a beach eating a wallaby, but I keep that to myself. A nice fire warms us, and we cook our meal and philosophise about life, death, and the universe. The night sky takes over when the watermelon sunset starts to fade, and I feel comfortable in this chair of seaweed and sand, and I watch as the stars above begin to twinkle like a million diamonds flung across the sky. Jim lets the billy brew and asks “anyone for a cup of "tickety-boo"?’ The Celestial Seasoning Tea is hot and spicy, and we sip and listen as he sings “Stary, stary night.” He takes out the harmonica and I know that nothing can disturb this beautiful moment.

Friday

James woke long before me, and I wake up when the guys beat the pots outside the tent. The morning mist brings moist and fresh air as it rolls in like a soft blanket from the ocean. Jim has a plan for us, so we pack quickly and set off further down the road towards the timeless and peaceful landscape of Mullumbimby. Banana and sugarcane plantations cover the rolling hills that surround us almost hiding the little houses in the deep valley below. Everything is thriving and full of life and I sense the feeling of tranquillity and freedom of the valley. I am beginning to understand why they call this “Gods own country.”

Jim pulls over in a national park on top of a waterfall. It is breathtaking and we marvel at the scenery while we eat our lunch. Suddenly James screams. There is a slimy brown worm wriggling between his toes, and he tries to pull it off, but it seems to have burrowed down deep under his skin. It swells up and I light a match and put it next to it. The heat from the flame makes it crawl out and disappear. It is a leech! Blood gushes out from between his toes, and he becomes very distraught. Jim says there could be more leeches at the bottom of the fall and advise us to put socks and sandshoes on for the long walk ahead. I don’t feel comfortable, but I am determined not to let this episode detour me from walking in the rainforest. So, we set out on the 16 km track with matches and salt in our pockets to ward off any leeches. The first part takes us through a very beautiful virgin eucalyptus forest where all we worry about is the occasional spider making a web across our path. It smells of eucalyptus from the ancient weather worn thick trees with their foliage high above our heads. Birds are singing and it is so peaceful. The only thing I am aware of is my own breathing.

Suddenly the light disappears as the foliage changes, and we enter the rainforest. The undergrowth is thick, and the sun cannot reach us through the canopy above. There is nothing quite like walking in a rainforest. It holds a timeless dignity, and it is primeval, like stepping back to a time and a place where everything is untouched and allowed to grow wild and unhindered. There are bird sounds everywhere and there is an echo from the water somewhere deep down below the valley. Leaves rustle in the wind and drops of water trickle down. But that is not all. We are suddenly being attacked by leeches dropping down on us. The thin worm like creatures seem to wave as we pass, and they must sense our movements or smell our blood because they move fast in a half circle before dropping down on our clothes. Skinny, little things growing fat as they drink the blood. I don’t know if it is water dropping down on me or leeches and I panic. I shake and hit my jumper and I feel like I am under siege. We can not stand still for very long and move fast through the thick vegetation of palm trees, ferns, and beautifully leafy high trees in this rainforest. The sun is barely noticeable now far above our heads and the air is thick and moist. This part of the virgin forest is another world, and it is full of life.

The waterfall sound much closer now, and when we finally arrive, we decide to rest by this wonderfully dark little pool at the bottom of the valley. Water is gushing down the rocky wall, loud and forceful and I get tempted to have a shower and a dip beneath it. James, who still has the picture of the leech between his toes in mind, refuse to sit down and walks off ahead of us. He tells me I would be crazy to attempt to bathe there. Jim giggles. He knew about the leeches, yet he took us here. It is so typical of Jim. James hurry before us through the undergrowth but suddenly stops and yells out. He throws his jumper and t-shirt aside and says there is something crawling on him. We check and sure enough, there are two leeches digging in under his armpit. Rubbing salt on them does not help, they just dig deeper. Jim laughs and starts to recite scenes from Kathryn Hepburn and Humphrey Bogarts movie “The African Queen.” “If there is anything in the world I hate its leeches. Filthy little devils.” I get out the matches again and the heat from the flame is the only way to get them off. I really feel for James, he is almost out of his mind, and I get scared. We have been standing still far too long and I imagine them crawling up my legs. Jim says there is no short way back through the forest, and we hurry further down the track. This is not an easy walk; we climb over moss clad rocks and jump between the puddles. It is slippery and part of the terrain is almost impenetrable. We push in amongst the big, wet fern leaves and do not stop until we come back to the top of the falls. I have never walked such a distance so fast. We are back in just under four hours.

Jim is happy. He promised us an adventure and I guess I won’t forget this one. No time is lost. We strip off our clothes and check each other’s bodies for leeches. I have five, mostly nestled in between my toes and I don’t know how they could have got through the socks and shoes, but they did, and they are fat with blood. My blood. It hurts when I burn them out and it bleeds. One sits behind my ear and the other on my arm. I dread the thought of having them crawling into the ears and tell James to check thoroughly. It is a horrible feeling.

Jim, however, escapes with not one leech! He says he has royal blood, and they don’t like him. We promise to put leeches in his sleeping bag that night as a payoff. I can’t wear my bloody socks anymore and throw them away.

It is getting late, we must move quickly to reach Jims friend’s house before it gets dark. It is quietly nestled in amongst the mountains and the roads are narrow. It is easy to get lost in this area.

Saturday

It was a restless sleep, not only because of the slope we were on, but I could not relax from the leeches and felt them all over my body. We wake up to a thick mist rolling down from the mountain and a donkey just outside our tent. Jim slept in the house during the night and call us in for breakfast. Rosie and Matt, who live in the little cottage, welcome us into their big kitchen. Jim cooks porridge and there is the lovely smell of brewed coffee and toast from Rosies homemade bread. The house is charming in its rustic simplicity. Rosie shows me crocheted, colourful bikinis she makes and sell at the weekend markets in Nimbin. She also makes scarfs and vests while Matt concentrates on his woodwork. He is a carpenter by trade and is working locally in town. They are both part of the Divine Light Mission so most of the earnings goes straight to the Guru Maharaj Ji. They follow the teachings of the Guru which is a mixture of Hindu mythology and Western philosophy. Rosie tells me that they often work over 30 hours a week and then spend another twenty hours studying. She says they went to the Orlando Florida festival which was a huge event and they even got to meet the Maharaj Ji. They are obviously fully immersed in this world of the “guru.” I enjoy our conversation, but it is time for us to move on.

It is not far to the beach and Jim takes us there for a swim. I dive into the water and feel for the first time that I am free from those leeches.

We are heading up amongst the green mountains to another couple of Jims friends. Their house is built on stilts and surrounded by banana and sugar cane plantations. Everything is lush and green. I stand in the kitchen looking out through a glassless window at the garden below and I can see the tree tops and the mountain on the horizon. It is easy to connect to the place. Arron built the house, the kitchen is missing running water and has a wood stove, it is rustic primitive but cosy. When I ask about the toilet, they show me a canvas wall in the garden with a chair without a seat and a hole in the ground underneath. They say they dig a new hole every couple of days and fill in the old one.

Lunch is served in the ornate handmade ceramic bowls, and I decide right then that I will learn to make pottery. This is something I have dreamed of for a long time and seeing these amazing colourful bowls just brings it home. I don’t think a lentil stew has ever tasted so good and the home-made pumpkin bread is something special. We spend the afternoon in the garden, and they tell me about every vegetable growing there and all the animals that visit from the forest beyond. Arron says they have a problem with snakes but they very seldom get inside the house as it is on stilts. We enjoy our afternoon and meeting Arron and Casandra, who are the absolute Queensland hippies.

Monday

We spend another night at Rosie and Matts place before we make tracks back to Brisbane. The evening is nice, we sit by the fire surrounded by candles and oil lamps. James, Jim, and Matt play guitar and sing while Rosie and I bang on the tablas.

It has been a couple of interesting days. I feel like I have been away for quite some time, and I have learned a lot. This part of the world is timeless in a way, I will always remember the tranquillity of the valley, beautifully rich in its natural growth and the people free and lovely trying to escape the rat race. But I also realise it is easy to view the landscape through rose-coloured glasses. Rosie, Matt, Casandra, and Arron are facing a different reality. It is a harsh life, especially during the wet season with monsoons and torrential rains. It takes a special kind of person to be able to stand up to those elements, paradise always has a price.

Tomorrow is another day, and it is time for me to book that Greyhound bus to Airlie Beach. It will cost us $67 each.