From Cairns we headed to Kuranda and across the Atherton Tablelands. The dense rainforest of the Great Dividing Range changed to sparse gum trees and termite mounds as we drove inland. The bushfires and burnoffs created a hazy, almost unreal effect. Near Cooktown, the rocks of Black Mountain National Park towered above the road.

The rocks are covered in algae that gives the black colour,our driver, Kurt, pointed out. There are little rock wallabies in the gaps underneath. They stayed hidden, but other wallabies jumped from the bush on to the road in front of us. They scattered at our approach and we reached Cooktown without mishap.

Only coats of fresh paint separate some of Cooktown‘s buildings from the days of its origins. It was a boom town during the 1870sgoldrush on the nearby Palmer River. Later, the pearl industry kept the town going as helmet divers worked the coast.

Near the lighthouse on the hill above the town we had spectacular views of the Great Barrier Reef and the Endeavour River. Over two hundred years earlier, the explorer James Cook also viewed the reef and river, as his ship, HMS Endeavour, was beached f or repairs.

We camped near the river under the shade of large gum trees. As darkness fell, a couple of visitors wandered in.

To us they looked like giant rats. Bandicoots,Kurt called. They‘ll come and finish off the scraps. Camping in northern Australia brought thoughts of sharing the tent with some of the less desirable wildlife, but our totally­enclosed tents were designed to keep out everything, including snakes and bandicoots. Then it was off across the corrugations towards Laura, an abandoned cattle station built in the 1880s at the entrance to Lakefield National Park. The roadsides were now dominated by termite mounds. The larger cathedral mounds were shaped as the name suggests, while magnetic or tombstone mounds had sharp peaks and pointed directly north to south. The occasional snake or wallaby crossed the road, while white cockatoos screeched above us. Smaller parakeets scooted through, rainbow lorikeets the prettiest and loudest. At Musgrave Telegraph Station, our next night‘s camp, the sun set in a red haze of dust and smoke.

The blue­winged kookaburras were quieter than their southern counterparts, although they still let us know when it was morning. They were followed by a thousand galahs, rosebreasted cockatoos, which made themselves at home in the trees nearby. There wasn‘t much water at Palm Creek, just orange mud. You can walk around upriver or stay in and drive through,Kurt called. Watching from the bank seemed a better option than standing knee­deep in mud, helping to attach a towline. We still weren‘t sure about the crocodile signs. The first vehicle powered through the mud, trailer and all. The second did the same.

This four­wheel­driving was easy, as long as it was someone else‘s vehicle. We arrived in Weipa to find a bearing on one of the Landcruisers was hot, leaving us with two days to fill in before the replacement arrived. Weipa has one of the largest bauxite mines in the world, so a bus tour was a must. Hard hats and safety glasses were mandatory as we watched massive scrapers loading 150­tonne trucks with orange ore. The ore was then shipped to smelters, eventually becoming shiny aluminium.

The Comalco set­up was environmentally­friendly, with mined areas being replanted three metres lower than before they mined it. Wildlife channels were left for birds and animals to move between the bush areas. Our problem of what to do next was solved when a local fisherman, Adam, called, do you want to go fishing¬ There were five positive responses for a trip up the Mission River, off the Gulf of Carpentaria. Crocodile warning signs appeared again near the boat ramp, but Adam put our fears to rest. Haven‘t seen a croc around the ramp yet ­ they‘ree mainly up the river ­ might see one or two on the way. We stopped while Adam used a throw net to catch bait in the shallows. Meanwhile, we scanned for any sign of crocs. If there were any, they had no effect on fish numbers, as we caught enough fingermark, grunter and jewfish for a night‘s meal. Our largest catch was a shovel­nose shark, which we released. The day was topped off when we landed a large mud crab, it‘s flashing nippers replacing the horrors of crocodile jaws.

The next day started with a walk through the mangrove forest. This had to be the place for the crocodiles. The plop of mud skippers and the crack of shrimps competed with the calls of the birds above us. A white egret sat at the top of a mangrove tree, waiting for something to move in the shallows. Still there were no crocs, although several large, white­tailed stingrays foraged near the edge of the boardwalk. The lack of snakes wasn‘t a problem, either.

Twin and Eliot Falls near the junction of the Cannal and Eliot Rivers finally gave us a safe place to swim. Red ironstone rocks baked under a brilliant blue sky, with a tree­lined river flowing through a series of waterfalls. A dark shape moved in the water and we took a step backward. It was a large water monitor lizard or goanna, which climbed out and warmed itself on the sand. The nature study continued later when we snorkelled down to view yabbies, freshwater crayfish which form part of the lizard‘s diet. At daybreak the mist hung over the river and waterfalls, as kookaburras enticed the other campers to get up and share it.

The Jardine River was our next crossing, but it was too deep to drive through. The only way across was by a ferry trip costing $80 per vehicle. The ferry driver was pretty laid back and fished between trips.

Any crocs around here¬we asked. plenty in the Jardine,he replied. On sunny days they stay in the water. You probably won‘t see them today. We didn‘t, but how many of them had watched us¬

The road to Cape York ended at another white, sandy beach. The final walk to the tip looked out over Torres Strait. To the north was New Guinea, somewhere among the mass of islets and reefs that dot the strait. pop!The champagne opened behind us as we celebrated reaching Cape York, a most interesting yet largely unknown part of Australia.