Cape Tribulation.
Where things that were ship-shaped went pear-shaped for Captain Cook.
Where marine worms make their casts.
Where armoured sand-bubbler crabs shape their shot.
Where molluscs sign their names on the sand at low tide.
They don't know it but they are making pithy statements as to the fleeting nature of fame. Molluscs are smarter than they seem.
Cape Tribulation is also where Canadians complained there weren't enough crocodiles.
Or monkeys.
Stupid Canadians.
And also where we reached the end of the tarmac.
"Although we've come (urg) to the end of the ro-oad.."
"Shut up, Harry."
"...still I can't le-et go-o..."
"Shut up, Harry!"
"I hate you Youcef."
"I hate you too. This rainforest sucks: no monkeys."
"Stupid Canadian."
"Or Tigers."
"You're an idiot."
...
"I want to kick one of those brush turkeys."
"Yeah, me too."
Day's end: Sunset over the Daintree River at the town of Daintree.
3 comments:
Was there still a Fruitbat Sanctury at the end of the the tarmac?
If so, thats where I stayed for a couple of field trips in the late 1990s.
Taffs
Mollusc graffiti = cool!
Dunno about teh fruitbat sanctuary. Buttloads would fly overhead seemingly out to sea in Cairns though.
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