The Reef, the Rain and the Rat

Well last night was not one of the best of the trip so far – in fact it was probably up there as one of the worst. I'm a tad hazy about the sequence of events - what came first the flood or the rat – on thinking back it was probably the rat …. but I'm getting ahead of myself.

On the day of our trip to the Outer Reef there was a most welcome change in the weather – the rain stopped and the sun at last decided to put in an appearance. Our trip down the escarpment from Julatten to Port Douglas was uneventful although with some fabulous views across the rainforest to the sea with Snapper Island, just off shore from our last campsite at Cape Kimberley, on the near horizon. We were to be travelling with a company called Wavelength who specialise in small group snorkelling tours to the reef. Unlike some of the bigger companies which could accommodate from 90 to perhaps a couple of hundred passengers, Wavelength had a maximum of 30 passengers ably looked after by Jon (who drove the boat) Eric (who led a snorkelling group and did lunch) and finally a young, slim, attractive, marine biologist from California called Taylor (who led the other snorkelling group, gave expert talks on fish and coral and looked very good in a snug fitting wetsuit – much to the disgust of every other female aboard!)

On the way to the Outer Reef

One aspect of the weather not to put in a big improvement was the wind. Although not quite as blowy as a few days earlier the sea was still choppy particularly in the open channels between reefs. Disdainfully turning down the offer of sea-sickness tablets and a handful of sick-bags we climbed up to sit with the driver for the 90 minute trip to the reef. Brought up on trips across The Minch from Ullapool to Stornoway – now that could be really wild - Sandra claims not to suffer from sea-sickness. I suspected a number of our grey faced co-passengers regreted not having been brought up off the west coast of Scotland. And then it was into our gear.

I went too

We had taken our own snorkels, masks and fins from Scotland – and had given them an outing in Bali – so we knew that they would fit us perfectly. However the same could not be said for the wet-suits provided by Wavelength and it took us several changes of suit before we could find ones we could just about squeeze into. Finally, looking like a group of over-weight seals, all 28 of us plunged into the waves.

Wet-suited and ready to Snorkell

In all we went to three sites. The first was a bit challenging with a choppy sea and strong current making it a bit uncomfortable, the second was better and the best was saved until last. Our final plunge was at a site totally protected by the reef, in fact with a very low tide a vast expanse of reef was exposed resulting in absolutely no wave movement and very little current with which to contend. Whilst the coral and marine life were good, the outer reef was different from our previous snorkelling trips and, to be honest, we both agreed later that we have probably been spoilt with some of our other  experiences particularly in the Maldives.

Very low tide on the Outer Reef. Good snorkelling conditions

Wavelength were excellent with good, helpful and informative staff who provided us with a more than adequate morning snack, a very good buffet lunch with fruit, biscuits and cheese in the afternoon. No wonder we looked like over-weight seals!

The trip back to Port Douglas was wet. Electing to sit on top again the wind and waves were exhilarating – although I did hear a number of other adjectives bandied around by some of our queasy, grey-faced companions. Back on shore we had an early dinner at a wharfside restaurant – prawns, calamari and french fries – then back to camp, where we had booked in for another night. However, as we had been advised that very heavy rain was due in the next few days, we decided to move on.

Bird watching - our last day at Kingfisher Park

After a final day birdwatching (Sandra) and reading (me) we packed up and headed south back to Cairns, where we took in a print-making exhibition, then further south to Gordonvale to look for somewhere to stay for a few days. Despite problems with the on-line advance booking system, we decided to give the National Parks another go and Sandra spotted a likely place at Goldsborough Valley in the Wooroonooran National Park. Not wanting to risk another “pig in a poke” we drove into the park, found the site OK, drove back to Gordonvale to get a phone connection, made a telephone booking, then back to set up camp – what a carry on and waste of fuel. The pain in the butt booking system does have one big advantage, it is such a hassle that people can't be bothered and consequently the parks don't seem to be well used and we were the only visitors. We booked in for three days and paid up front.

Sandra on beach on the way south to Cairns

The first night was uneventful and the following day we did a walk up through the rainforest to the bottom of Kearneys Falls, a small but spectacular waterfall which tumbled several hundred feet down from the Atherton Tableland. Later that day we had a visit from the Park Ranger who advised us that, with rain expected, the two river crossings on the way to our campsite were likely to become impassable and we should be prepared for a quick exit. Which brings me to where I started – the Rain and the Rat.

James at Kearneys Falls

As is our wont when camping we retired early at about 7.30pm – me on my campbed and Sandra on the floor – she knows her place. By this time the rain had started – and it was heavy. About an hour later we were woken by a screeching sound from the door of the tent – Sandra, experienced bird watcher that she is – assured me that it was a bird, and we went back to sleep despite the sound of rain battering against the roof. Shortly I heard the noise again and shone my torch towards the tent door. There, half way up the insect netting door, was a rat. Assuming it was trying to get in out of the rain I went to chase it away – only to find it wasn't trying to get in, it was in already and seemed intent on staying in.

Brandishing my head torch, I opened the door and tried to chase it out only to have it disappear further into the tent. A quick search found it under my bed near Sandra's head and, when it made a move towards the door, I assumed it had made a bid for freedom so I zipped the door behind it. It was then that Sandra (who hadn't actually seen the rat) announced “James, my bed's wet” - I didn't think the rat had been all that frightening! Then I saw what she meant, parts of the tent floor were awash with water and her bedding was a wee bit damp.

Waterfall by campsite - before the rain started

Thinking quickly I decided to get a spare tarp from the car to put on the floor to prevent, or at least limit, further water ingress. Stepping outside wearing only my head torch I realised exactly what the problem was as my bare feet sunk into several inches of mud and water. Water was pouring off the mountain above the campsite and making its way to the Mulgrave River just a few yards beyond our tent. Deciding to not to abandon camp in the wet and dark we prepared to tough it out. Putting the tarp down on the floor swimming with water and stripping off her wet bedclothes, Sandra and to a lesser extent I, settled down for a dampish night. It was then that Roland the Rat put in his next appearance – and this time Sandra did see him.

Unwilling to even try to get back to sleep with a rat on the loose with us in the tent, she leapt onto my bed (which was at least out of the water) and directed operations. Ordering me to move each of the bags from the floor, check for rat, then put the rat-less bag on the bed with her, I gradually reduced the number of potential hiding places. In the process finding much evidence od rat-like activity – partially eaten banana, nibbled bread and plenty of rat pee and droppings. Finally there was only one bag left sitting in a puddle by the door and there was the Rat – defiant to the end. Making sure the door was open and holding a torch in each hand I moved him towards the door – then, with a bit of a sprint, he was gone – back into the bloody tent.

Not wanting to give Roland the satisfaction of getting more food, I put all the rat infested bread etc into a plastic bag and threw it outside, shut the door, piled all our bags onto the table to get them off the wet floor and we settled down to make the best of what remained of the night. I like to think that the laughter I heard from Sandra was amusement – we will always remember that night – but I thought I may have caught a slight hint of hysteria, although assures me that it was the former.

Early next morning i.e. a few hours later, the Ranger re-appeared and strongly advised us to get out as soon as possible - the rivers were flooding - we left ASAP even though we had paid already for another night. I wonder if they do refunds?

We never saw the rat again but the food I threw out was attacked and a hole was gnawed in the side of the tent