Having spent the last few weeks in southern Australia in
their winter, I was looking forward to the heat and sunshine of Port Douglas in
tropical Queensland in the dry season. Perth and Adelaide had been pleasant
enough temperatures, like spring in the UK. But Melbourne had been a bit colder
and in all three it had been a case of dodge the rain. So when we landed in
Cairns and it was raining, I wasn’t too chuffed. But at least it was a balmy 22oC.
The sun came out the next day and I explored the town. I
fell in love with Port Douglas. The two girls, Melanie and Nicola, who I shared
a dorm with at the youth hostel and I hit it off straight away. It felt more
like sharing a room with two friends than three strangers who had been thrown
together by chance.
Mel and I went crocodile hunting on the Lady Douglas boat
through the Mangrove Swamp on the edge of town. It was piloted by two women and
there was a resident Jack Russell by the name of Jock. “He hoovers up crumbs
dropped during afternoon tea but please don’t feed him too much because he is
getting fat,” we were told. “He doesn’t eat crocodile but is attracted to
movement, so if he looks like he might leap over the side can one of the adults
please try to grab him.” he padded around the boat saying hello to everyone.
The tide was low, exposing the mangrove roots and lots of
mud, ideal for crocs to sunbathe on. Except today it was cloudy. We sailed the
inlets for a while, spotting nothing. Then we spied a semi-submerged female. We
followed her as she glided along, her yellow eyes bright, staring, docile and
sinister.
She seemed oblivious to the boat and obliged us by swimming
parallel so we could get a good photo. And Jock behaved himself.
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