August 7 to 13. Newell Beach (Port Douglas). The tale of Larry and Dave

After the early morning start dealing with Larry (see previous Post) we were thankful for a short drive to our destination. We stopped at Palm Cove on the way looking for a sausage roll, but that is not a bakery kind of town. Lots of resorts, restaurants, and lots of people essentially walking back from morning tea, or to lunch, or to whatever their next meal will be. The beach is nice, and they have a swimming area, but we were glad to have skipped staying here.

As Port Douglas’ caravan parks were full, we found what we hoped was our type of park around 25 minutes north of Port Douglas. Only 10 Minutes from Mossman and its Gorge, the park is off the main highway and essentially on a no through road, across the street from the beach.

This place is the most chill place we have been to. Didn’t need a deposit, pay when you get here or when you are ready, no gate numbers, no amenity numbers, and no shower curtains. We could pick our spot, invited to happy hour at 5 each night and even a morning tea on Wednesday. We took advantage of the happy hour most nights and got to know the long termers, otherwise known as plonkers. They essentially run the happy hour and put on a music show to amuse themselves on a Saturday night. This week, there was a budding musician staying at the park, who first of all joined in and then took over for the next two hours. The night turned into a big sing-along, and he made a legion of new fans – Willow Prusa if you ever see the name. This is the connection we enjoy when travelling. Chats, a few drinks and a bit of a sing along doesn’t go astray.

The weather has now really turned it on, and we are out and about at Saturday markets in Mossman, the iconic Sunday Market in Port Douglas and a great walk at Mossman Gorge. There were not too many people around when we were there, and got to stroll along the tracks and boardwalks alone a lot of the time. We even got to sit on the rocks by the river to have lunch with no one else around, and just the water rushing over the rocks and birds to listen to.

In the early hours of Monday morning, Larry (our solar power battery console) had another moment. Not as much panic this time at 1:30am. We don’t need to shift and have some options to check in the morning, as well as time on our side. Sunrise arrives and the fuses and connections are all fine. Mmm. Some research from the last time in Cairns had told me that there are 3 ways to kick start a battery that has shut itself down due to being too low. Option 3 was plug in the solar from a different point than the 240v charger … so I try the solar blanket we have brought with us, but rarely used. It is in the early morning shade, so don’t hold much hope. However, the battery fires into life, the 240v charger kicks in to charge the battery, and we are back on like Donkey Kong. My scepticism from a few nights before about the previous owner having the same issue and saying that when the sun came up her battery magically came back to life was ill founded. The panels on the van need a clean to keep it topped up, but we have a great back up if we need it and we are learning more and more every day it seems.

With Larry happy again, we headed off for our planned day trip to the Daintree. To get there, you have to cross the Daintree River on a cable pull car ferry that does around 27 cars at a time. Then winding narrow roads to take us to the lookout and our view over green, green trees to the blue of the coral sea. Second stop, the Daintree visitor centre which is a well put together series of boardwalks, and a tower that helps you view the forest from a different angle. It also had a smallish animal display with a few tanks of fish, a couple of snakes and some bugs. Not quite pissweak, but not quite the display that the international visitors would likely call their friends back home about. Then, to finish off, there was a Jurassic walk with animatronic dinosaurs that even the little kids thought were lame.

We took another extensive boardwalk loop to view the forestation, the creeks, and not much of the wildlife. Apparently, there are supposed to be Cassowarys in these parts, but we are yet to see them, or any crocs, or any other wildlife that the signs have been told us to be wary of. No stingers, no koalas, and certainly not a drop bear in sight. I am not upset, but I do want to know if all of the signs warning of crocs near the more populated areas are just a little bit of overkill by the Queensland government covering their ass, or Bob Katter trying to get a licence to shoot as many of the creatures as he and his mates can find.

We go looking for Cape Tribulation, which is to be the most northerly point on our trip. After this point, the road is only suitable for 4WD and the brave of heart, and we do not have any Scottish heritage. We reach the Cape Tribulation café and head off for a walk down to the beach to munch on our lunch and enjoy the views. Croc warning signs abound and some people are wading and playing in the rockpools at waters edge. We do go for a stroll on the wide expansive beach, but still keep well away from the waters edge.

Sitting on the beach we reflect that we are lucky to be able to be 2,993 ks from home using the most direct route. We have travelled 4,700 km’s and not hit the tip of Queensland. As we reflect on the vastness of our land, and the experiences we have had to get here, we check the map at the information centre that highlights we were at Myall Beach and the Cape lookout is another couple of kilometres further north. Back into the car and we make it to the well populated Cape lookout where everyone else knew what they were doing or were on a tour. We feel even more lucky to be 2,995 k’s from home.

Everything from this point on is south, and closer to home. It is not lost on us that we are half way through our trip in time and distance. Are we missing home? Sometimes. Are we missing the torrential rain and flooding in parts that we have already travelled through? No. Are we enjoying meeting people and seeing different things. Yes, we bloody well are.

Tuesday we take a trip back up towards the Daintree, but didn’t cross the river. Daintree Village is a very small town with a school, one caravan park with units, an information store to book tours, a café serving crocodile burgers and a pub like venue that looks like it would go off at night. Very quaint, with the caravan park also having one of those museums you see in country towns that is basically somewhere that someone has stored all their old shit that they thought would be valuable one day, but is just a place for the dust to create itself a decent bed.

We had already decided that we weren’t interested in any croc tours, as we had done them in Darwin with the boys and had seen them doing their jumping thing, their proliferation and their unique beauty of being the ultimate predator. However, a ride on the Daintree on a smaller boat sounded great, so we pay the very reasonable fee and hop on for an hour long cruise.

I have been speculating about the number of croc warning signs and if they were a bit over the top. The boat ramp looked safe as houses (actually this term may need to change given the current political environment and the drop in housing prices) and while you may see a “log-o-dile” going down the river, you couldn’t see anything that looked dangerous from the shore. The boat launches from the ramp, and we get a little spiel around it being a tidal river and some other fun facts. We have travelled literally less than 100 meters upstream to see a 5m croc on the bank sunning itself. He also had one of his girlfriend’s not too far away.

We travel up and down this river seeing baby crocs, and a number of others of varying sizes and different stages of hunger. I do now believe that the water’s edge is for fools and horses, and if the fool had a horse, he should either push it in first or get on it and ride away. I really was expecting just a nice little trip on the Daintree River, but this really hammered home the dangers that do lurk just out of eyesight.

We found out on the boat that this reasonably priced tour also included another tour which launched from near the boat ferry. I will report that the results were similar there, with a baby croc literally right next to the boat ramp and another 5.5m beauty just 100m from the launching place. It is interesting to note that the Qld government doesn’t allow any feeding or interaction with the crocs like the NT govt. does. While you don’t get the spectacular croc jumping here, you can still get an appreciation for the magnificent creatures they are and how you need to respect their space.

Wednesday we ventured back into Port Douglas for a mid-week market, lunch at a beachside café, a vigorous walk to a lookout and our first ocean swim. It is a cruel irony that some of the most beautiful beaches in the world are inhabited by some of the most deadly creatures on the planet. I guess Crocs, Bull sharks and Stingers know a good thing when they see it, so having a netted off beach in Port Douglas to swim in 24 degree water while it was close to 30 degrees was a welcome end to the day.

Just a quick note here to highlight that I have left my mark in Port Douglas, and if you are ever there, I suggest going to Daves Takeaway on the main strip. Besides the cracking potato cakes, if you can prove that you are a Dave (yes, they check your drivers licence), you get a polaroid snap and put onto the wall of Daves. They have a very large wall of Daves from over the years, in sequential order. I am there on the 13th August, 2026 with my Bulldog camping shirt. My friend Dave suggested it looked like a photo board for Australia’s Most Wanted. Who wouldn’t want their own Dave?

Something the crocs love up here is the Barramundi, and it is easy to taste why. After a little tip off around a particular servo that had fresh local fish, we have indulged ourselves on this delicious crocodile food a couple of nights in a row. Easy dinner putting it straight onto the camp stove with some home made chips. It is a thing that we should do more at home but just don’t. We had Spanish Mackerel steaks in Bowen and they were sensational too.

Thursday is the middle, the centrepiece, the main show of the holiday: Linda’s birthday. Having secured an early present in Melbourne in the form of an underwater camera and Linda breaking the rule that you have to wait for the day to use it, the pressure has been off a little bit and I can just focus on her enjoying the day. Some eggs on the BBQ for breakfast and then into Port Douglas. Joel and Nikita had bought Linda a prawn lunch cruise. Local prawns and some spring rolls, of the barramundi and crocodile kind. An old Chinese Junk took us out for 1.5 hours onto the Coral Sea looking back onto Port Douglas. A little bit of lunchtime bubbly as well, and a nice afternoon was had.

Another swim in the sea so Linda could take photos with the new camera from the water back onto the beach for a unique view. This is probably our last beach swim which is a bit of a shame. Heading back to the campsite, we bought a kilo of prawns and joined the regulars at the campsite happy hour. I had given the heads up to the ring leader, and they brought out snacks, some more bubbly and also set up the keyboard and mics for some music. We had only met them a week ago, but the people who have plonked themselves at the campsite for months on end are quite nice, and good to have the conversation past where are you from (all basically Victorians) and how long are you here (forever). Happy birthday was sung with gusto and the only downside was that it did turn into Karaoke. Given I had put them up to it, I was cajoled to take the microphone, which I reluctantly did. Thankfully, most Paul Kelly songs aren’t too stretching of the vocal cords. I was asked what key am I singing in, which is a bit of an indication as to how I went.

By the time the session came to a close – a late 7:30 after the early 5:00 start, Linda had had a good day and we had bade farewell to these temporary friends that made our stay and Linda’s birthday memorable. That is what travelling is about.

Newell Caravan Park – Google review.

This park is chill. Are we booked in? Sure. You want a deposit? Nah. Where shall we park? What spot do you want? Compared to the Tropical Squeeze in Port Douglas, this place is just the opposite. Away from the hustle bustle, space around the site, socially focused with happy hours, old but clean facilities and only a few blood curdling curlews calling out at night. Just the way we like it. It is far enough away from the beach to be safe from crocs, but close enough to easily go and watch the sunrise. Loved our stay here with the regulars. Just don’t talk politics with the owner. 4 stars.