Hinchinbrook: Day 3

Yesterday Luke was up early enough to see the sunrise over the ocean.  On hearing his reports of how lovely it was, I promised myself I'd get up in time to see it today.  I duly set my alarm clock for 5:50 and was dressed and out of my tent by 6.  I hadn't realised, however, quite how dark it would still be, or just how long the trail from the campsite back to the beach would seem.  It only took about 10 minutes but it was terrifying.  For a start, except for my feeble torch, it was pitch black (any early morning light failed to reach the ground through the trees).  Secondly, every time something moved in the forest, I jumped out of my skin, and there were no shortage of creatures rummaging around.  I had rats, frogs and toads cross my path and each one scared the bejesus out of me.  When I finally made it to the beach, my torch shone across the 'beware of crocodiles' sign.  I hesitantly progressed, only to find that the sky was completely covered with dense, menacing clouds and that it was beginning to rain.  Glancing at my watching, I saw it was still 15 minutes until the sun was due to pop over the horizon.  At that point I gave up and miserably returned to my tent, but not before having to make it up the dark path again.  It was not the best start to the morning.

An extra hour back in my tent and I was ready for a second start to the morning.  About half an hour into today's walk, Luke and I made a total hash of crossing Zoe Creek.  We spent around half an hour trying to find a place where we could rock hop across.  All throughout the walk, it was clear that if there was an easy or an awkward way of going about something, I would invariably opt for the latter.  Zoe Creek was no exception.  I'm not sure quite why we were so unwilling to get our feet wet, but the time we wasted there cost us dearly later on.

The next section of the walk took us to its highest point, 260m above sea level. All up the climb there were great views back over Zoe Bay and the island. Higher up, we were out of the forest and into a landscape of heath, ferns and grasstrees, though there were still a few opportunities to get our feet wet: 

Mid-morning, it started to rain, a state of affairs that would continue for the rest of the time we were on the trail.  At first it did little to detract from our enjoyment.  The scenery simply became a different kind of lovely:

The rain got heavier as the day progressed and I kept reminding myself that I was, after all, in the rainforest.  If I had to be getting wet anywhere, this was an excellent place for it.

Learning from our lesson this morning, by the time we reached Diamantia Creek, the biggest on the trail, we wasted no time.  I didn't even take my boots off because at least they gave me a semblance of grip on the stony creek bed.  I waded straight in and before I knew it was bum deep in fast-flowing water, desperately trying not to slip or lose my balance under the weight of my pack.  I was sure glad to get across that.

And then it REALLY started tipping it down.  The remaining 40 minutes into the campsite seemed interminable.  I realised that I couldn't get any wetter so just went with that but Luke was starting to show signs of breaking.

By the time we got to the campsite, I was as wet as I have ever been in my whole life.  I felt far wetter than coming out of a bath, shower or swimming pool, because not only was I wet, but all my clothes were too.  My beloved hiking boots were soaked inside and out.  The manufacturer's claims of them being waterproof obviously doesn't extend to wading bum-deep through a creek:

We were then faced with the unhappy prospect of it being only 2:30, it being far too wet to set up the tents and there being no discernible way of getting dry nor warm.  There was another waterfall at this campsite and I'd told myself throughout the walk that I'd jump in as soon as we got there - I couldn't get any wetter - but when we arrived I collapsed.  Instead, six of us at the campsite squished and huddled under one tiny tarp and tried to pretend we were enjoying ourselves.

Late afternoon the rain let up enough to pitch the tents, swim in plunge pool of the waterfall, change into my last remaining dry clothes and hang up all the wet ones in the slim hope that they'd be dry in the morning.  There was nothing left to do but eat an early dinner and tuck in for a very early night.