My last destination in Oz before leaving for New Zealand was Cairns and it was going to be my base for over a week, although I would be flying to Alice Springs and visiting Uluru for some of this time. I found Cairns to be sunny, lively and good fun with plenty of like-minded travellers and a good nightlife. Whilst the beach wasn't really up to much, nor very often used by anyone - Cairns has an artificial lagoon which allowed for swimming and sunbathing without getting sandy! So I spent several afternoons here recovering from hangovers and reading my Bryson book. I was nearly at the end of it and as it was all about his travelling experiences in Australia I thought I should finish it before I departed.

I thought I would share with you my final full day in Cairns. Having read about a mangrove swamp on the outskirts of town which provided an interesting and picturesque walk I determined to get some exercise and go and do it. Described in the Lonely Planet as a walk which gave a 'rainforest experience in one of themost naturally lush areas of Australia' I was keen to see what the fuss was about and walked in humid conditions a fair distance out of town to find the trail.

The humidity was intense and by the time I arrived at the swamp I was pouring with sweat and the flies in the mangroves had a feast on my hot skin. Walking just yards off the main road I was suddenly confronted with dense green foliage on the banks of dark, still water.
I was surprised to find a sign in front of the foliage reading 'Beware - Estuarine crocodiles! Keep to pathways and away from the banks'. The sign went on to list various things about crocodile attacks.

I took heed and kept directly in the middle of the path with at least 6 feet of land on either side of me. After ten or so minutes I came to a standstill. In front of me the path came to an abrupt end and beyond it a wooden boardwalk led into the swamp, about 10 inches above the water, and the board were only 2-3 feet wide. I had seen no one else on the boardwalk, indeed on the walk at all and so gingerly and cautiously stepped onto the planks. I peered nervously into the murky dark water around me and could make out a terrapin but little else. The edges of the boardwalk were enveloped with mangroves so one could not see much of what was in the water. It was I thought to myself, perfect crocodile territory and easy to ambush a backpacker like myself.

Nevertheless being the fearless explorer that I am I ventured on, trying to marvel at the extent and variety of flora around and in the swamp, whilst all the time keeping one eye out for crocs or any disturbance on the calm, still water. I half expected to round a corner and find a 15 foot long beast on the boardwalk before me - I had already had 2 encounters with reptiles -
the first occasion being at Byron Bay where our accomodation was a tent set out on a small island in the middle of a swamp area and in the middle of the night whilst walking the boardwalk to the tent I had mistakenly kicked something cold, fleshy and heavy and shone my torch to find a 3 foot long lizard of not inconsiderable size looking at my toes with beady eyes. I quickly found an alternative path to the tent. Liza was later confronted by one of these lizards which stood on its hind legs and looked, according to her 'like a bloody tyrannosaurus rex'!
the second being in the more controlled environment of a crocodile farm, however the sheer size of these prehistoric relics (one was 20 foot long and 26 stone) and their ferocity when it was feeding time convinced me that being in their territory was probably not a good idea.

So it was with quite some trepidation that I continued forth on the boardwalk into an area where the skylight was obscured by the trees above me and the water and boardwalk became quite dark. After several yards I stopped and scanned the motionless black water ahead of me. It was at this moment when I was peering into the murky abyss expecting a croc to suddenly launch itself in an explosive thrust from the water to clamp its jaws on me that there was a loud splash just to my left.

I jumped about six feet in the air and was about to to utter several expletives in a girly scream when I heard a woman's voice scolding a child and I realised that a young boy had merely thrown a large stick which had landed in the water a couple yards from where I was standing. I smiled politely at them whilst silently praying to Zeus and any other deity who might listen that the young devil child, who was now smirking, experience a traumatic adolescence. I comforted myself with the thought that the child behaved as he did because his parents locked him in a dark cupboard at night and because he was bullied at school. I smiled darkly at the thought.

Shortly after this experience I returned to the hostel for a beer and a change of underwear.