North

GRANDPARENTS, PLEASE, REFRAIN FROM READING THIS FIRST PARAGRAPH...

We hiked two kilometers up a mountain to Finch Hatton Gorge, and Elle, whose middle name should have been "Danger," had her first near miss when crossing a small outcrop of rocks in the river. She let go of my hand after landing on the other side, but lost her footing and slipped, landing on her belly in shallow water, and then proceeded to slide feet first over the edge of a waterfall. In an instant I was able to grab her by the forearm averting tragedy, but I'm pretty sure I'll be having nightmares about it for a long time. Then I had to pick some kind of parasitic worm off her leg.

...AND BEGIN READING HERE:

Jorge, Sarabelle and Gracie, hereinafter to be known as "Grice" after that flew out of my mouth yesterday, spoken like a true Aussie, to many shocked expressions (mine included), took a dip in a spectacular swimming hole at the top of the mountain trail. After much convincing Sarabelle and Grice took off their shirts and cooled off with their Dad. Sarabelle kept her bra on while Grice was completely topless. I promised that on the remote chance someone did show up, we would call her Greg and no one would be the wiser. Elle and I, already having enough of the water, sat on the banks and waited for them to finish.

We have been in Australia six nights. What is boggling is that we have only visited Queensland ("The Sunshine State.") The state of Queensland is about four times the size of California, and a drive from Brisbane to Cairns ("Where the Rainforest Meets the Reef") is nearly the equivalent of driving from Fort Lauderdale to New York City. The entire highway so far on the main north-south corridor has been two-lane traffic. It's a big country.


Fortune favors the brave.

-- Pliny the Elder