Tuesday 2nd June 2015, 31 degrees
It’s not every day that you can say that you’ve been searching for dinosaur footprints.
There is an old Aboriginal gent who cruises around town in a bright red mobility scooter complete with sunshade and he drives it like a Beema. His skin is the darkest of charcoal and he sports a dapper moustache and beard. He wears a large cowboy hat and shades. To me he is the essence of cool. I call him ‘Cool Dude’ for that, he is.
At Streeter’s jetty where the luggers once berthed there are tiny bright red and black crabs. While we eat lunch small red dragonflies buzz about.
The Japanese cemetery is beautifully neat. Nine hundred and nineteen Japanese are buried here, killed by pearl diving mishaps or cyclones. Cockies squawk in the gum trees. Most of the headstones are pieces of local rock. It may not be their homeland. But it is a lovely resting place.
There is a tall iron structure at Gantheaume Point. It is the lighthouse and as you approach it there is an unmistakable ‘wee wee’ sound. High up in the framework there are two large osprey nests.
Woody has chosen to forgo cemetery visits and rock hopping at Gantheaume Point to cook dinner and I’m on a mission to see the dinosaur footprints. The tide is 30 mm below the required level for viewing them, yippee. People are wandering left, right and centre about the rocks as there are no marked pathways to get out onto the lower rock ledge. It’s a case of every man for himself and hope that you don’t break a leg. A mother is trying too hard to teach her kids about dinosaurs “now remember what I told you about the Cretaceous period? Harry are you listening?” Harry is looking for crabs. The rock pools are the best that I’ve seen and the crabs are large and there is bright red stuff clinging to the rocks and lots of coral, so I don’t blame Harry in the slightest. But where are the footprints? Well about sixty people are wandering about looking at rock pools trying to envisage foot shapes and toes. But no one can see them. We’re all looking hopefully at our maps, some folks are Googling the info, others using their phone compass. A Scandinavian woman is getting way too technical about tide height. But no one can see them. Where are they? No one knows. What do they look like? No one knows. Just then my phone rings we have visitors. I race back to camp to catch up with our caravan club mates B and P. Obviously, we were easier to find than dinosaur footprints. So good to see you guys and how great it is to catch up with friends so far from home.
Travelling Kms: 0