Saturday, January 7, 2017

Photos from Australia, 2016, Part XIII: Mission Beach

At long last, we reached Mission Beach!  And, by "long last," I mean about eight hours.  Maybe less.

The first night was drinking.  The second night was a bit of exploring.  Then a jaunt to a small island.  Then back to Cairns.

Now, Mission Beach is in a placed called the Cassowary Coast.  For those unfamiliar, cassowaries are these dinosaurs of birds.  Quite colorful, supposedly quite vicious, and an endangered species.  I wanted to see one.

I did not get to see one.  Well, except in a zoo (I'll show you that one in a couple of posts), but that doesn't count.

Which means I'm going back the Cassowary Coast at some point.

Look who greeted us as we drove into the neighborhood.

Bingil Bay Cafe.  Helen's friend, Toni, loves this place.  I can't recall the food, but the ambiance is cool enough.

Just another gorgeous overlook somewhere.

I was using a public toilet, and this guy was stressed the fuck out.  On his back, couldn't flap his wingie thingies, and ants were closing in...

So I grabbed some leaves, picked him up, and put him outside.  He disappeared shortly after.  Probably bird food.

Some poor guy's boat.  Or gal's boat.  I'm not sexist.  I doubt that salt water crocodile that did this was sexist, either.

Hunting for salt water crocs at night.  Do you see something???


Ah, Australian marketing... unintentionally funny since 1788.

About to catch that boat to that island.  On the left, my good friend Helen.  On the right, my instant friend Ash.  There's a story there.  I'm not going to tell it.

The inside of our water taxi.  And Ash's foot.

There was brief consideration given to snorkeling out to that smaller island from the slightly bigger island.

In 2011, a cyclone called Yasi knocked the fuck out of the island resort.  It hasn't quite recovered.

Sandbar peninsula, with Australia's mainland in the distance.

I was walking around the beach on Mission Beach.  These things are everywhere.  Some kind of crab does this.

I noticed that the nutrition label on my bag of beef jerky was a sticker.  So I peeled off the sticker.  Funny how things don't quite match up.

Looking back at Dunk Island.  At this point, I was wandering the area, looking for a fucking cassowary.

And I didn't quite find one...

The resort where a new friend, John, works.  He's Danish.  And a trip.

On our way back to Cairns, saying goodbye to the neighborhood roos.

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