Spiders, Lizards, and Cassowaries - Oh My!
DAY: 15
LOCATION: Daintree Rainforest
My dad loves being alone in nature more than anyone I know. He’s hiked the Pacific Crest Trail, biked from Florida to Oregon, climbed various mountains, all by himself. His idea of luxury is a sleeping bag, thermos, and discounted hiking boots. So naturally, when I set out for my day trip in the Daintree Rainforest, I was thinking of him. What Would Tom Do?
A brief internet search revealed a strenuous seven hour hike for the truly adventurous – Mt. Sorrow Ridge. That’s what Tom would do! I read on to get the details:
“Be prepared for a very steep and difficult trail with log scrambling required in some places.” Oooooh log scrambling! Don’t even know what that is, but sounds exciting!
“Epic views! Intense hike!” Wahoo! Intense is my middle name! Just ask my exes!
“During wet season be prepared to get covered in leeches.” Wait — WHAT?
An afternoon of bloodsucking sounded like downright hell. I’d been subjected to enough vampires over the years by the media, did I really need to experience it in the flesh? The Victorian era was not on the top of my time travel list. And yet… this is what my dad would do, no question about it… I packed long pants and my only long-sleeve shirt, just in case. I had three hours of driving to make a decision.
Getting out of town proved a little nerve-wracking (one more stall pulling out), but by the time I hit the open road I felt nothing but awesome. The sun shone, the hills rollicked, the radio blasted Meatloaf.
“Anything for love! Oh I would do anything for love! Oh I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that! No I won’t do THAT!” I sang at the top of my lungs, windows down. “WHOOO!”
By the time I reached the ferry into the national park, I’d lost radio and cell service. That was okay though, the whole point was to get out into nature and unplug from civilization. The great outdoors awaited!
Although I still didn’t really know where I was going. There were signs along the road for various activities – canopy walks, zip line tours – but I just wanted to hike. I kept on following the route Google had given me.
It led me to a small, bumpy road. Should I go for it? I thought of Carl, the rental car guy – “any damage, $4100.” Screw it.
The road wasn’t actually that bad, but unfortunately it led me to nowhere. Well, it led me to a private tour company, where the guy tried to sell me on his $80 walkabout. When I told him I just really wanted to hike by myself, he seemed miffed and incredulous of my ability to have a meaningful rainforest experience on my own. He wouldn’t even let me use his bathroom – “paying customers only” – but did direct me to a few easier hikes I could do.
At this point, all signs pointed away from leeches, considering I didn’t even know where the trail began. I turned around and backtracked along Cape Tribulation Road to Cow Bay. I found the hike the tour guide had told me about it, past the Jindalba Visitor Center.
Alright, here we go! I lathered on the sunscreen and sprayed myself with bug spray more fiercely than Donald with the tanner. I have the honor of being both allergic to mosquitoes and their favorite treat, so I was taking no chances. Pesticides over huge itchy welts any day.
There were two different paths – a 1km boardwalk and a 3km muddy trail. Obviously I chose the muddy trail. I started the ascent, my body already covered in sweat from the humidity. The trees around me dripped in solidarity. Oh, summer in the rainforest.
About a kilometer in I stopped and just stood there, completely still. Everything around me was alive. I could feel the ground beneath me breathing, see the trees whispering to each other, the spiders in their webs, the birds chanting, a large lizard slithering, the vines dancing. Every organism playing its part in this theater of life.
What was my part? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this alone and away from civilization. I knew I could be back on the pavement in 15 minutes, but still – no one in the world knew where I was, and I’d yet to see another person. That old friend anxiety came knocking on my door, but I didn’t answer. I am safe. The universe has me.
I continued on, feeling an overwhelming sense of unity. Not unlike the time I’d taken too much MDMA in Vegas and could no longer differentiate between myself and the other Marquee revelers. Only this time, it was the absolute sense of presence getting me high, and there was no Kaskade, just a rare cassowary creeping through the brush, it’s turquoise head shimmering.
After completing the trail, I did the boardwalk as well. A tour group had just started, and I breezed on by them to get back to my private experience.
“You don’t want to be like that girl, blowing past it all,” I overheard the guide tell his followers. “The rainforest requires attention and complete awareness.”
Offended, I wanted to stop and correct him, but realized it made no difference. I didn’t have to prove to him or anyone else that I was awake or mindful. The only thing that actually mattered was my experience, not someone else’s opinions on it.
My next stop was Thornton Beach. Not a soul in sight, just a million little sand balls decorating the beach, crafted by translucent crabs. I perched up on a rock. What would it be like to live in the wild? I flashed on Swiss Army Man, a movie I liked far more than I thought would. Other people are necessary. Civilization, maybe not so much.
The rain started to fall in the mangroves on the Mardja Botanical walk. The trees and their knobby roots looked straight out of a fairy tale. I half expected them to start walking and talking, or turn into a carriage and whisk me away. I particularly liked the fern baskets, supporting their own mini ecosystems.
I finally encountered other humans on Myall Beach, a group of boys playing in the water. Clearly they didn’t care that it was high season for box jellyfish, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I did, however, walk out onto some of the hard exposed coral. It looked like another planet.
And that’s when it really started to pour. We’re talking actual sheets, so thick I couldn’t see in front of me. Heavy, cooling, pure. Like some sort of purging and rebirth. A baptism. Astonishing. Replenishing.
Thunder roared and I picked up the pace back to my car. Cleansing was one thing, getting struck by lightning quite another. On the road, two barefoot girls waved at me for a ride. I pulled over, fulfilling my hitchhiker karma.
“Thank you! You’re amazing! I’m Sarah, this is Fiona.”
They were 20 years old, English and adorable. I took them to Cape Tribulation Beach House, where they were living for a month or two or six. However long they could get away with working for room and board. Prior to the Daintree, Fiona had been doing her year of farm work in Victoria, Sarah hitchhiking and random couch surfing all around Oz for half a year.
“Weren’t you scared?!” I was shocked she was still alive.
“Not at all! It’s the best, you meet such amazing people. I wish I could do it forever!” She beamed. Talk about bucking the system. And here I’d been scared of Airbnbs.
The rain eased again so they took me down to the beach and told me a bit more about the rainforest. There were the vines called Wait-A While, which hold you hostage with their hooked stems. There were the feral pigs and golden orb spiders. The lightening storm that had almost fried them on the beach a few days before. And of course, the leeches.
“Omigod, I can’t believe you were going to try and do that!” Fiona confirmed my decision to forego Mt. Sorrow was a good one. “There is this one crazy guy here who does it all the time. He’ll just go out and stay over night with nothing.”
“Yeah no. Maybe never,” I laughed.
The rainforest started doing its rainforest thing again, raining like mad, so we returned to the Beach House. The girls invited me to come to a bonfire party / camping trip with them – they had an extra sleeping bag - but I decided to head home. I loved talking to them, and camping in the Daintree sounded like quite the adventure, but I did not need to get sick again from a sleepless night.
Was it what Tom would do? No, he’d be up on the mountain, facing the elements alone like the crazy guy. But it’s what felt best for me, and I was learning that it was okay to follow my own instincts.
