Springbrook
“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”
— Helen Keller
I decided to escape the theme-park-ridden, Miami Beach-like Gold Coast and head into the hinterland toward Springbrook. My ears popped a few times as I climbed the winding mountain roads. It was a beautiful drive — as long as you didn’t look down. Yikes!! There were some hell of a drops, occasionally on both sides as the road narrowed and hugged the mountainside. I have to thank my Fraser Island adventure friend Tamsin Curl for recommending Springbrook. It was spectacular — or “brilliant,” as the Brits say.
By this point in the trip I was getting a little homesick, and Springbrook turned out to be the cure. Something about the forests and cooler mountain air reminded me of northern Ontario. I reached my hostel in the middle of the afternoon, although calling it a hostel didn’t seem quite right — it felt more like a big mountain lodge, and apparently I was the only guest. The view from the balcony was breathtaking, even through the fog. That first night, though, I was petrified. A huge, nearly empty lodge in the middle of the mountains with nobody around? I felt like I’d checked into the Overlook Hotel from The Shining.
The next morning I laced up the hiking boots and headed toward a sign promising the “Best of All Lookout.” I chuckled at what I assumed was more Aussie wit, but this time the sign wasn’t exaggerating. The view was incredible. Along the way I also encountered ancient Antarctic beech trees, remnants of forests with roots stretching back to the time when Australia was part of Gondwana. After about five kilometres of hiking, I headed back to my own private Overlook Hotel for a XXXX. Sounds like porn, eh? Nope — it’s beer. Queensland beer, to be exact. Enough beer memories. Back to hiking.
The following day I tackled the Twin Falls hike and managed to get some great pictures of a little lizard whose name completely escapes me. He stopped right in the middle of the trail and practically posed for the camera. The fact that he seemed utterly fearless immediately made me suspicious. By this point in Australia, I’d learned that anything showing that little concern around humans might be venomous, have a huge whack of teeth, or possess some other unpleasant surprise. I kept my distance.
My next destination was Byron Bay, but I’d been told to stop at Natural Bridge on the way south. It was buried deep enough in the forest that there wasn’t much light for my early digital camera, which explains the shortage of pictures. The cave beneath the natural rock formation is famous for its glow-worm colony, but despite the darkness I didn’t manage to see them. Back at the car, I took one last picture of a scrub turkey — colourful, entertaining and, at least from my observations, not exactly the brightest creature I’d encountered in Australia.
