Rescue Mission [August 3]
In the back room of the Innisfail Historical Museum, past the antique egg cups, the yellowing christening gowns and the old war rifles, is a collection of black-and-white photographs labelled “Cyclone, March 10th, 1918”. The images show wooden buildings littering the main street like spilled matchsticks. Men in braces and hats stand beside the piles of wood, hands on hips.
There’s something familiar about the cheerful look on their faces. It’s the same expression I’ve been seeing all week on the faces of Mission Beach residents – like the woman in the supermarket who told me ‘I’d rather have a cyclone than a flood or bushfire any day!’
On February 3 2011, Cyclone Yasi hit tropical north Queensland, destroying property and crops along the length of what’s known as the Cassowary Coast. The category-five storm caused massive damage to the resort infrastructure at Dunk and Bedarra islands and they won’t be taking bookings until at least April 2012.
At Mission Beach, two hours south of Cairns, the waterfront facilities (including the Clump Point Jetty and boat ramp) were ripped to pieces. Most buildings suffered some kind of structural or water damage. The irrepressible residents, however, have picked themselves up, repaired their buildings and resumed the coastal tourist trade. According to Angi Matveyeff, the manager of Mission Beach Tourism, two-thirds of the town’s cafes and restaurants are operating and almost all accommodation has reopened.
We’re staying at the beachside Castaways Resort and Spa, where the gym remains closed due to water damage. Otherwise, Castaways is fully operational and many rooms have recently been refurbished. Accommodation bookings are steady and the resort’s Bibesia restaurant is popular with locals on their night off.
Walking south along the beach towards Wongaling Beach we marvel at the resilience of Mission Beach’s picturesque coconut palms. The tidal surge that followed Yasi gouged the sand from under these trees, leaving their spaghetti-like root systems exposed. Most clung on, though, and have survived.
Occasionally we come across a rusting fridge half buried in the sand. It’s hard to know whether this is detritus left by Yasi or if it’s been here since Cyclone Larry swept through in March 2006. Two decades before Larry, Cyclone Winifred damaged 190 buildings in and around Innisfail (On the road between Mission Beach and neighbouring El Arish, one wag has left a hand-painted sign: “Hi Winifred, I’m in ELarrysh, got my Yasi kicked by every cyclone.”)
Cyclones aside, this part of north Queensland is one of the wettest regions in the country. The nearby town of Tully receives an annual average of 4000 millimetres of rain, symbolised by its giant Golden Gumboot monument. The week we visit the Cassowary Coast (spanning from Babinda in the north to Cardwell in the south), there are showers almost every day. There’s a strong wind, too, which is bad news for our planned island-hopping day trip with Coral Kayaking.
It’s good news, however, for the people hiring out BloKarts from the Adventure Centre (rebuilt on wheels after Yasi, for a quick getaway). I watch these go-carts with sails hurtle up and down the hard sand while I brave the choppy surf of Mission Beach.
We make the most of the sunny breaks, dropping in at the visitor information centre and the C4 Environment Centre next door to find out how the endangered cassowaries have survived Yasi.
These flightless blue-necked birds have inspired their own monument at South Mission Beach. Bus drivers like to advise backpackers that the ten-foot tall concrete and steel “man-eating” cassowary is “life-size”. (Fortunately most don’t buy it).
“Their habitat has been damaged, so the cassowaries are confused and hungry,” we’re told. “They’re wandering into places they don’t usually go, like car parks, looking for food.” Fortunately the birds can usually find a meal at one of a hundred rainforest feeding stations established on the Cassowary Coast, where rangers leave fruit for them each week.
The rainforest damage is starkly visible on the Licuala Fan Palm Walk in the Tam O’Shanter National Park. A decade ago I wandered here under a dappled canopy of native palms, keeping an eye out for wallabies and cassowaries. Now we marvel at the trunks of immense eucalypts, their roots bared, lying fallen beside the path. The little signs alerting visitors to different plant species have become advertisements for ghost trees. (The wallabies seem to have migrated to South Mission Beach where they’re feasting happily on lush front lawns.)
Five kilometres north of Mission Beach we tackle the walk up Bicton Hill in the Clump Mountain National Park. Some glades and gullies of rainforest remain unscathed. At the top of the hill the cyclone has stripped away foliage, creating a stunning new 360-degree view of the Cassowary Coast.
Intrigued by descriptions of Innisfail as the “art deco capital of Australia”, we head north up the Bruce Highway through canefields, stopping to pick up a heritage walk brochure at the Innisfail Tourist Centre. The roof here is still covered with a giant tarp but otherwise it’s business as usual.
Innisfail is architectural proof that good things can come from bad. The cyclone that ripped the town to pieces in 1918 prompted an art-deco building boom in the 1920s and ‘30s. Wooden constructions were replaced with more sturdy concrete and brick buildings, with the decorative curved and hand-tiled facades, porthole windows and geometric leadlight designs of the era. Starting at the Johnstone River, we follow the heritage walk around town, pausing to admire the freshly painted deco-style banks, arcades and cafes lining the streets.
The Innisfail Historical Museum is housed inside the blue-and-white deco glory of the Memorial School of Arts, where we stare at old photos of the cyclone-ravaged town. Finally we head up the hill to where Our Lady of Good Counsel Catholic Church presides over the town. It’s a grand confection of cream and gold turrets, fully refurbished after Cyclone Larry in 2006. Like the rest of the town, it seems to have survived Yasi’s fury with minimal damage.
We drive back along the winding Old Bruce Highway, known as Canecutter Way, through a long valley of canefields flanked by cloud-topped mountains. As we pass the silver towers of the Bundaberg Sugar Mill in South Johnstone the sickly-sweet smell of processed sugar follows us down the road.
At Mena Creek we pull into a crowded car park and follow the signs to the entrance of Paronella Park. We can hear rushing water as our tour guide leads us down a steep path towards a patch of remnant rainforest. Suddenly, looming up from under the tall trees, there’s a ruined castle with turrets and balustrades, and right beside it, a gushing waterfall drops into a hidden valley.
Our tour guide explains that a Spanish immigrant named Jose Paronella made his fortune in the 1930s buying and selling Queensland cane farms. He bought five hectares of rainforest, built a small cottage for his family to live in and employed local labourers to construct this astonishing Spanish-style castle right beside the Mena Creek. He hired out the glamorous ballroom for weddings and dances and invited courting couples to wander along the landscaped paths he created in the rainforest. Visitors played on his tennis courts, swam in the creek at the bottom of the falls and bought ice-creams made by his wife, Margerita.
Paronella was an innovator, installing Australia’s first privately owned hydro-electric power plant under the waterfall. After his death the property changed hands several times and a fire in the ballroom caused extensive damage. Floods and cyclones have also taken their toll, and these days the castle is a series of picturesque moss-covered ruins. But someone has always rescued the heritage-listed Paronella Park from natural disaster and these days it’s one of the most popular tourist attractions in the state.
On the way back to Mission Beach we detour via Silkwood to visit the Murdering Point Winery. Here the Berryman family produces award-winning wines with tropical fruits including mango, passionfruit and Davidson plum. We buy a bottle of sweet lychee wine and that evening we raise a toast to the never-say-die spirit of tropical north Queenslanders.
(A version of this blogpost appeared as a travel article in the Fairfax Traveller in August 2011.)