The Steamers - Main Range National Park, QLD

It is often difficult being a visitor to new places - you touch the landscape so briefly, you walk the route, see the spectacular views, and are left to only imagine the endless opportunities for exploration. Traveling can sometimes feel more like ticking off the destination rather than immersing oneself in a new environment. However, sitting on the stern of The Steamers in Main Range National Park, Queensland, staring down the length of its spectacular pinnacles and cliffs, I felt that no matter how brief our visit might be it was better than not being there at all.

Hat Head National Park - Connors Track

The beauty of our coastline should not be taken for granted. All too often we head inland seeking adventure and remote locations. The coast, however, has a more expansive wildness to offer. Hat Head National Park is a perfect example with its long, undeveloped stretches of coast where dolphins surf endless breaks and vast beaches are broken by rugged forested headlands, where whales pass within a whisper of the rocks below and birds of prey drift by at eye level cruising the on-shore winds.

Apsley Gorge - success or failure?

Sometimes a trip is a success. Sometimes it can be a failure. Often it is difficult to tell the two apart. Our recent foray deep into Apsley Gorge is a case in point. Its sheer crumbling walls tower more than 140m high in points and its sparse water course appears and disappears beneath and around massive boulders and landslips that cover the gorge floor.

Nymboida River - messing about in boats

"Believe me, my young friend, there is NOTHING - absolutely nothing - half so 

much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."

Nymboida River - Platypus Flat to the Cod Hole

Kemps Pinnacle - Willi Willi National Park

Why walk when you can drive?

We could all give a dozen good answers to that question but, in the case of our walk to Kemps Pinnacle, it was simply because we didn't know better. Using our topographical map to navigate, in an area little explored by us before, we started walking along Hastings Forest Way before veering onto a closed, old forest road out to Spokes Lookout. From there, map in hand, we continued further along the escarpment past Spokes Mountain where suddenly our forest road disappeared into an overgrown mess of grass and shrubbery.

Our topo showed that the road continued towards Kemps Pinnacle, about two kilometres away, and so we pushed on, waist deep in weeds, scratched to buggery by wild raspberry and rainforest vines following the faint, overgrown impression of the old road. When we burst from the undergrowth onto what we later learned was called Coachwood Road, a white 4WD zipped past our astonished eyes. So, we could have driven.

Dandahra Gorge - Gibraltar Range National Park

The full moon threw a sheet of silver light along the steep sided valley, illuminating the smooth bark of brush box trees lining the boulder strewn creek. We lay on a huge flat rock: no tent, water flowed around us, small bats flitted across the moonlit sky. This fantastic bivvy site was smack bang in the middle of the creek, about 3 metres above the water, with enough room to sleep four or five people. A neatly jammed piece of driftwood provided the only way up or down off the rock. It was a miracle of sorts, being the largest clear, flat area we could find at the end of a long, tricky day of walking. Then the full moon added its magic touch, lighting up the shimmering treetops and creeping its way along the creek bed towards us.

Wild Cattle Creek - Dorrigo National Park

An erratic frontal wind hit us hard, stripping loose leaves from the forest canopy and throwing them about like confetti. The weak light in the rainforest dimmed to almost darkness – it was only 3.30pm. I walked in circles at a manic pace thinking we might have time to pitch the tent before the storm hit. But, it was far too late. The noise in the treetops left no doubt that we were going to get caught out. Around us we could make out the black sillohuettes of gnarled beech trees: a fine grey mist drifted through first and then thunderous white streaks of rain began hammering down. Within 3 minutes every single thing was totally saturated. We huddled together, rain jackets on, packs at our feet, and a one metre square piece of tarp over our heads, water pouring off it so fast we could have filled our drink bottles in a second. The forest canopy swayed wildly above our heads and leaf litter washed away in rafts on the slope around us, exposing the rainforest topsoil and tree roots at our feet. It was a rude interruption to what had otherwise proven to be an idyllic weekend adventure.