Photos of wildlife seen at Alligator Creek, as promised in my previous post.
Most of the birds I saw were honeyeaters enjoying the bottlebrush blossom along the creek Continue reading “Alligator Creek wildlife”
Alligator Creek picnic and camping area is a deservedly popular spot within Bowling Green Bay National Park.
In spite of the park’s name, the camping ground is well inland, on the upper reaches of the creek among the rugged hills of the Mount Elliot range. We have visited it a number of times over the years (this link will take you to a 2012 post about it) but hadn’t ventured far beyond the immediate vicinity until exploring the track to Cockatoo Creek yesterday.
The track parallels the southern bank of the creek up into the hills. The first stop is the Lookout, Continue reading “Alligator Creek to Cockatoo Creek”
I wrote recently about Blencoe Falls and the road to them but didn’t say much about the camping ground. The National Parks page provides all the basic information but didn’t make clear (to me, at least) that what is offered is basically free camping along a two-kilometre stretch of creek: when you drive into the nominal “camping ground”, all you find is an information shelter (under the dead tree) and a toilet in dry scrubland.
All the campers were settled down beside the creek, in shady sites well off the road. The creek itself was a tranquil string of broad pools linked by rocky shallows but the sandy, rock-strewn banks confirm the implication of the flood marker fifty metres back from the bridge, i.e. that it must sometimes be a raging torrent.
I found plenty of wildlife beside the creek – lots of birds, including a Sea Eagle (they are not restricted to the coast), a cormorant, parrots and honeyeaters, and a good number of insects (now here, on my flickr photostream).
The most numerous animals, however, were flying foxes – there was a colony of hundreds or a few thousand just downstream from the bridge. They are Little Reds, a nomadic species, so they may not stay long, but they certainly made themselves known aurally and olfactorily during my visit and were an impressive sight as they swirled into the sky to go foraging at dusk.
Access to Blencoe Falls (previous post) is from the small township of Kennedy, just north of Cardwell: take the only road which turns inland from the highway, follow it for 10 km or so, veer right onto the gravelled Kirrama Range Road, and you’re on the right road. For quite a while.
The top of the range is reached after about 20 km of steep, rough, winding road through dense rainforest. Several viewing spots offer spectacular vistas over the coastal plain and to Hinchinbrook Island.
The road levels off at the top and winds through more rainforest to Society Flat rainforest walk, marked by a towering kauri pine. It is less than a kilometre long but presents the best opportunity to enter the
rainforest jungle: no-one takes a casual stroll through this green tangle except on a made, and maintained, path.
It’s an abundant environment, but an abundance of plants, not animals. Certainly there are birds (more often heard than seen), butterflies and spiders, but the trees, vines and epiphytes make it what it is.
Further inland, the country gradually dries out and the vegetation changes to open forest dominated by eucalypts. I stopped there for lunch on my way to Blencoe Falls and again, for somewhat longer, on my way home.
The distance from Kennedy to Blencoe Falls is about 70 km but that doesn’t give much of an idea of the travel time: if you allow three hours then you may be pleasantly surprised but if you plan on two then you may arrive later than you expected. The road is all gravel except for the steepest section, up the range, which is broken bitumen. All of it is narrow and has enough blind corners, pot-holes, rocks and fallen timber to keep average speeds low. 4WD vehicles aren’t absolutely necessary in dry conditions but may be after rain, and the gently decomposing corpses of a couple of backpacker vehicles beside the road are reminders that inland roads are unforgiving. The journey is well worth the time and effort, however.
Blencoe Falls are on Blencoe Creek, a tributary entering the upper Herbert River only a few hundred metres downstream of the falls. I visited the area in the interregnum between Christmas and New Year, in what was probably the very tail end of the Dry season. There had been enough rain to keep the creek flowing, but not much more than that.
The falls are still spectacular enough. The first drop is 90m, but then there are another 230 vertical metres of cascades down to the gorge floor. The only way I could fit it all into one shot, even with a wide-angle lens, was to tilt my camera:
The falls would be at their best in the Wet – anytime between now and the end of March – but the road in is challenging enough in dry conditions and might be impassable immediately after heavy rain, so the best time to visit is early Winter.
Blencoe Falls are a good forty km upstream from Wallaman Falls but the Herbert has already carved out a spectacular gorge and there are good views of it from the lookout:
The Herbert was barely flowing at the end of the Dry season as this telephoto shot of the river-bed clearly shows, but it can obviously be a wild river during and after the Wet. Nevertheless, there is a (tough, long) walking track along it. A four or five day walk begins near the Blencoe Falls camping ground, traversing open country parallel to the gorge for the first day and continuing along the river-bed (“pick your own route”, i.e. rock-hopping) to a pick-up point on the Abergowrie road. For more information, visit the National Parks page for Girringun NP.
The Jabali Walk from the camping ground to the falls is much shorter (5km) and easier, and the return trip can be done comfortably (aside from the heat) in three or four hours. There were plenty of birds to see along the track, but mostly at such distances that good photos weren’t possible.
Insects weren’t particularly numerous, mostly because of the dry conditions, but I saw one exceptionally tough bee-fly laying eggs in gravel which had been in full sun for hours. Numerous small gullies crossed the track on their way down to the creek, all dry except one; the dragonfly and wasp below were amongst many taking advantage of it, and tracks showed cattle and native animals also made good use of it.
When I was nearly back at the campsite, a spot of yellow on a fallen tree caught my eye.
The lizard, perhaps 25cm from its nose to the tip of its long tail, didn’t move as I approached and then walked around behind it. Perhaps it thought I still hadn’t seen it? It’s clearly a Dragon (family Agamidae) and after looking at Wilson’s Field Guide I suspect its genus is either Diporiphora or Amphibolurus.