In the tropical far north, our base of operations was the city of Cairns, set in a shallow bay ringed by mangrove swamp, a mud beach frequented by many exotic seabirds, and steep mountains softened by their cloaks of rainforest trees. Just south of Cairns, we stayed in a condo with a small balcony overlooking a waterfall and pool, complete with curious resident geckos. Laughing Kookaburras flew over each morning: Ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo, aahh, aahh, aahh, aahh, ha, ha HA HA HA! From the condo, we ventured in several directions to absorb the tropical rainforest, lowland and mountain, with a taste of the beach and of the inland dry eucalypt forest. Come along! Put your picnic lunch into the big blue insulated Coles bag with ours and climb into our gray rented Kluger. We are off for some adventures!

We went southeast into the rainforest hills where a new rainforest-canopy walk had just opened only days before. Here it rained, the only daytime rainstorm on our whole trip! It was satisfyingly misty and mysterious. Tall trees disappeared into cloud. Once in a while the mist would part and we could see the cool brown river winding far below. Trees are strange in the rainforest. For example, below is a satinash, with buds and flowers blooming right from the trunk! Coming out from the "dunny" (bathroom), we found this huge, gorgeous Hercules moth sitting quietly on the side of the building with wings spread, a perfect photo opportunity!

Vines are everywhere in the rainforest. Vines even climb upon vines. And at any moment, one might share the path with the brush turkey, common in the tropical forest, and nearly fearless. Once I was alone on a path and heard running footsteps behind me. I whirled around, but no one was there! I looked lower, and there was a brush turkey. It hurried past me on some urgent errand of its own.

One of my favorite towns in Australia is Ravenshoe, a little spot set amid tall trees and small streams in the rainforested hills west of Cairns. For some reason, I HAD to see Ravenshoe once more, so off we went. The scenery was spectacular. Here are just two of the waterfalls, Millaa Millaa Falls (left) and Elebana Falls (right)!

One day we did an all-day expedition to the very far north, where the road turns to dirt and follows the coastline almost close enough to touch. Our destination: Cape Tribulation, long-ago visited by me. I wanted to see it again, and hoped this time to see the orange-footed scrubfowl, a chickenlike brown bird with overlarge bright feet that builds a mound of rotting vegetation so that its warmth will incubate the eggs. We drove through sugar cane fields for a long time, and finally the lowland rainforest closed in, meeting over the road and making it into a dark tunnel at midday. Looking out for crocodiles, we drove the Kluger onto the Daintree River Ferry and crossed the wide river, serenaded by flocks of the small parrots aptly named rainbow lorikeets. Soon after, the road climbed a hill, from which we looked down through a frame of lush tree ferns to see the place where the Daintree flowed into the sea. After a long time in the road-tunnel, we came at last to Cape Tribulation beach, fringed by mangroves and backed by steep hills covered in rainforest. During the late spring and summer, no one swims here because of the deadly box jellyfish, known as the "stinger." But, wait -- what was that there in the deep shadow of the forest, a few dozen yards off the beach? Why, a pair of orange-footed scrub fowl building their nest, of course! I realized later that I had been so fascinated that I had forgotten to snap a photo of them, but Scott did one better -- he got video.

We had come to the small rainforest-mountain town of Kuranda to see the butterfly sanctuary, which was lovely. But on the sidewalk we noticed a little sign, "Bat Rescue," with an arrow pointing to a brick path going down a hill. I am a Halloweenie Bat-Lover, so this was irresistible! Following the path, we soon came to a fenced back yard with a batiary in which there were several dozen large flying foxes! Nearby was the local bat-rescue gal, showing tourists one of the large bats that was being rehabilitiated. Some bats hung in the batiary, while others, set free but still somewhat dependent upon the rescue mission, hung outside the batiary. Oh, my, this was just wonderful. I asked the rescue person where we could go to see a colony of wild flying foxes, and she replied at once, "Oh, go to the public library in Cairns."

The following day at sunset found us at the library -- which was in the middle of downtown Cairns city, surrounded by busy traffic, restaurants, shops, hotels, and sidewalks full of people! Looking up into the branches of the trees arching over the library, we could see the silhouettes of hundreds of flying foxes. Soon, as the sky grew dark, they began to yawn and stretch. At last, one of the huge bats launched itself into the night, followed by hundreds more. It was astonishing to see these 40-inch bats wheeling and banking above the streetlamps and lanes of cc traffic! The townspeople must have thought we were a little crazy, but for us western "Yanks," it was a fantastic experience, straight out of the tradition of The Lord of the Rings! Since I was taking photos of black bats in the darkness, I had to "push" a photo to show you this image of a giant black bat, with its umbrella-like wings, flying in the tropical darkness, oh, my!

One day we decided to venture inland and go looking for adventure, skipping all the obvious touristy oo-gosh spots. We took the highway west from Kuranda, and marveled as the country grew drier and drier, rainforest trees and tree ferns soon giving way to dry eucalyptus forests studded with massive red-dirt termite mounds. We saw a little dirt road that had a signpost on it: "Davies Creek." By then it was getting along toward lunchtime, so we thought "creek" sounded promising, and cheerfully drove up and up into dry foothills, leaving a cloud of red dust in our wake. Great granite boulders began to appear, poking through the ground like the backs of ancient beasts. And then, there was a creek, clear and sparkling.

At first we thought the creek bottom and creek banks were white sand -- but as we drew closer, we realized that instead, they were sheer granite, the very fabric of the bedrock exposed and cradling the clean water. The place was irresistible. We hauled out the picnic bag and stopped for lunch. We had the place to ourselves. Scarlet honeyeaters climbed through the red-flowered bottlebrush overhead, eating nectar.

Huge goanna lizards held fast to the bark of eucalyptus trees, dozing in the sunlight, two-inch claws holding their 5-foot-long bodies securely. A bar-shouldered dove pecked in the rocks nearby. A whole school of bright rainbowfish darted here and there in the stream. Paradise! After lunch, we desided to drive up the canyon to see what was next. "Next" was a VERY steep road, very narrow, with a sharp drop-off to the rocks hundreds of feet below.

But up we drove to a saddle in the hills, and there, in a cleft below, sliding over a granite lip, was a waterfall about 75 feet high, foaming down and down its carved granite channel.

Hugging the water was a single pale-green tree fern, the only one we had seen for many miles. We walked downhill for a vantage point where we could photograph the falls. Coming back up, I found huge ten-inch "chicken tracks" on top of my own tracks. An emu had crossed there only a few minutes before! Reluctantly we turned the Kluger back down the steep road and drove "home" toward Cairns. Some days are perfect, and this had been one of those days.