We left Coral Bay super-early, knowing there wasn't really supposed to be enough wind to get us to our next anchorage at Alcaro Bay by nightfall. I tend to plan conservatively, so when we actually got out there, we found we were going just fast enough to make it after all. With the added help of a favorable current, we ended up getting there well before that. We were pleased to find the bug situation much improved over that at Coral Bay. Most of that seemed to be from the combination of an onshore wind and also several nearby bush fires, which kept just enough smoke in the air to deter them.
Views from the anchorage at Alcaro Bay - smoke ashore
Alcaro really does have a trail from the anchorage that doesn't require the crossing of any private land. In fact, it is supposed to be a proper road. The next morning we fought the ebb up the river at the south end of the bay to a landing spot on the far side.
The trail was not in good shape. Whatever 'road' there once had been had long since been overgrown and crisscrossed by falling trees. In a few cases, we couldn't see any evidence of a trail at all and just had to continue bushwhacking in a general direction (aided by our map app) until it revealed itself once again.
The 'goal' at the end of the trail was the lighthouse and the complex of supporting buildings at Cape Don. At length, we made it there, but the lighthouse and its abandoned buildings turned out not to be the most interesting part of the walk.
Insects (Locust and a Mantis), birds (see the moth in its claws?), and the smoldering fires along the trail
What turned out to be most interesting was the fire. There was a small fire between us and the lighthouse, although I was pretty sure it wasn't on our direct path. I had been worried about walking through a fire zone and was especially concerned about getting through and then having our return cut off. We had seen the flames of a fire in the opposite direction the night before and there was still a little bit of smoke rising between us and the lighthouse. I pored over the weather forecasts and decided our safest option would be to go early, when the wind was still calm. I didn't fancy the idea of having to leave the only trail to divert overland around a fire that was being propelled by winds we couldn't outrun.
As I wrote that paragraph, I have to admit I felt so sorry for my poor mother. I love you, Mom!
Sooo, we left with the plan of high-tailing it back if we got scared. We made it all of the way to the lighthouse without dying. There, we found a creepy ghost town with no furniture, but plenty of abandoned hazardous waste. What the hell, humans?
And the lighthouse, Completed in 1917 with 3 keeper cottages;
fully automated and de-manned in 1983
In the afternoon, the winds had picked up, if only slightly. The smoldering areas we had traversed on the way out were now more obviously on fire, none of which was raging. It was fascinating.
Much of the flora in this part of Australia is highly fire resistant. This means that the forest burns slowly, like a candle, instead of quickly, like a ball of crumpled-up newspaper. We saw lots of smoke, with only a few open flames. We trudged through miles of ash, which turned our legs black. Most of the burning seemed to be trees being engulfed slowly from one end to the other through slowly advancing yellow-hot embers through their interiors like the last lonely log in a fireplace. Our path was crossed with white ash trails looking like two-dimensional shadows of the great trees they had once been. In fact, it seemed like most of the fallen trees had done so because their trunks had been turned to ash and were finally no longer able to support them.
Many of the fallen trees were reduced to not only lines of white ash, but also orange powder. At first we thought it was clay, but it disintegrated at the slightest touch. We later realized the orange ash was from termites. The orange ash trees were always next to a like-colored termite mound. As they consumed the tree, they must have replaced the wood with an internal extra 'mound' within the tree, which was exposed by the fire.
The smoldering was slow enough and random enough that most of the fauna we saw was still going about life as usual. Birds were screeching at us, kangaroos were fleeing and there were ants everywhere, seemingly oblivious to the blazes, rebuilding their colonies in the ash left behind.
It was a relief to have made it back to the dinghy with nothing worse than grubby legs and clothes that smelled like a campfire. As we launched, a croc splashed on the other side of the river, but he never came to bother us. Maryanne kept an eye out, though. As I was getting it ready to hoist the dinghy into Begonia's davits, she spotted a shape. It turned out to be a manta ray feeding near the boat. It came within arm's length before joining two others who also eventually passed close by. We spent hours admiring them, grateful that they were so nice to come to us when we couldn't swim with them.
The evening was made extra great with a visit from three Manta Rays that spent several hours cruising the anchorage for food
As we were doing this, Another boat arrived. It was a ketch. Aboard was Dennis, a single-hander who was bringing his newly-refitted boat home to Cairns from Southeast Asia. Since we were both going opposite directions for the first time, we were able to exchange tips on what's coming next. Since he was going upwind, he left at the next lull. We stayed behind, waiting for a good wind for the next leg.
Back at Begonia, we received a message from my poor mother. My brother, Darren, who lives in California, has had to evacuate his cabin in the woods above Santa Cruz because of terrible forest fires there. The California fires are the scary, fast-moving infernos that no one in their right mind would think is a good place for a stroll. Finding out one has entered your county is cause for alarm. His cabin sits beneath a mature Giant Redwood. He had to leave with what he could carry at 1:30 am and go into town to sleep at work. The next day, the authorities ordered an evacuation of Santa Cruz proper, so he's busy trying to find shelter that won't give him Covid. From where we are, we can only get headlines like, “California Wildfires Rage On”. We have not been able to see any maps or pictures of the area and Darren is of course too busy scrambling to stop and calm us down with news. We look forward to getting some real internet and finding out he is okay. {Maryanne: at time of posting this we learned that he is still evacuated from his home, and while his home is currently still standing, the potential for loss is still very much there}.
1 comment:
I just re-read this post, having passed on comments the first time. Apparently, every single one of my children is playing in or near fire, including you. Darren, Kelly and Heather are all still threatened by forest fires in CA, OR, and WA. Only Cori and I are so far safe from fire, but she has hurricane warnings, so apparently I am the only one living on the surface of the sun, as locals refer to Phoenix with its 120 degree temperatures, safely.
As always, your blog posts are fascinating and so well-written I feel like I'm there with you, except for the fire walking part. No thanks to that.
Sending much love
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