Our first
stop was to be about an hour outside of Brisbane, where we were to split up
into two groups, one headed to the Gold Coast, and the other, like me, headed
to O’Reilly’s Rainforest. On the way to
this stop, our first tour guide, Bob, spoke a little about the various sights. Unfortunately I missed a lot of what Bob said, as I was seated across from an
extremely loud, friendly and loquacious older Asian man from California who
immediately turned to me to chat as the trip got underway. As a result, I didn’t
learn much about Australia on the drive, however, I did learn that this
gentleman owned many clothing factories, that he thought New Zealand was much
nicer than Australia, that he has a daughter who is a doctor who was
valedictorian of Irvine High School and a full-scholarship student at UCLA,
that she married another doctor who graduated from Cornell, that they both currently
live in San Diego, that he sells clothes and sporting goods primarily to Dick’s
Sporting Goods, that his business is expanding, and that he has distribution
deals in the works for Singapore, New Zealand and Western Australia. I hope you found all that information as
interesting and useful as I did.
A very
long hour after departing Brisbane, we arrived at our rendezvous point. I
exited the bus with two British women and one young Frenchman who looked
remarkably like Rowan Atkinson. We were
greeted by David, our tour guide, a very skinny, sunburned Australian in full
safari gear. We all liked him instantly. I waved goodbye to my Asian friend before
getting onto the second van, and our tour was underway. I noticed a few road signs right away: wallaby
and koala crossing signs, both of which I hoped to see, and a sign indicating a
high danger of fires, which I fervently hoped not to see.
David was
fascinating and extremely knowledgeable.
Along the lovely and scenic 45 minute drive to Tamborine Mountain, I
learned quite a bit that was interesting. For one, Australia is full of macadamia
nut trees. They aren't from Hawaii; in fact, Hawaii didn’t start producing macadamia
until the 1920s, with trees they imported from Australia. I also learned it’s
not a good idea to eat off the trees, as there are two species which are poisonous. Australians also grow papaya, banana, and
avocado in these mountains – we passed many groves along the way but unfortunately
the pics from the bus are too fuzzy to share.
David told us that “koala” is an aboriginal word for “no drink water”, as koala get
most of their liquid nourishment from eucalyptus leaves. Also, “kangaroo” is an aboriginal phrase
meaning “I don’t know”. Apparently, once upon a time in Sydney, a British officer, on first seeing such a creature,
turned to his Aboriginal guide and asked what the animal was called. The guide, not knowing the proper name, said
as much: “gan ga roo”. To this, the British
officer replied, “Ah, yes, kangaroo”, which is how the animal received his
name, though the Aboriginals refer to the animals by another name. I'm not sure if this story is true, but I certainly enjoyed hearing it.
We
arrived at our first stop, Tamborine Mountain. We had about an hour to wander
around, so I wandered directly into the Tamborine Winery for a tasting. The young woman who did the tasting for me was
lovely, and the wine was lovely too, though very expensive (bottles ranging
from $35 and up). I noted the wine I
liked best (a 2010 Shiraz Cabernet), thanked her, and wandered around the
Tamborine Gallery shops. I went into Grannie
Mac’s fudge shop, because the name made me think of mom, and a few other
souvenir spots, before heading back to the bus. Some pics of the Tamborine Mountain Gallery shops are below.
While
waiting for the bus, the two British women, Caroline and Debbie, introduced
themselves to me. They said they had
wondered where my husband was (no comment) and invited me if I wished to stick
with them for the journey, suspiciously eyeing the odd Frenchman as they
did. Truly they were lovely women and I
thanked them kindly, and we had a brief chat about nothing much before getting
back onto the bus for the main attraction, O’Reilly’s rainforest.
Before getting to the O'Reilly rainforest, we made a brief stop at an alpaca farm on the mountain. Below are pics of David, bringing out Roy the alpaca, and me posing with Roy the alpaca. There's not much else to say about the alpaca farm:
Moving on. I had
thought that O’Reilly was an odd name for a rainforest, and I’d been hoping for
an explanation. After leaving the alpaca farm, David told us the story
of the O’Reilly family. The O’Reilly boys were are a group of eight
brothers, who in 1912 took the Australian government up on its offer for land
in the McPherson Range. No one else took
the government up on the offer, as the land was on the top of a mountain,
through miles of thick forest, none of which had been cleared. But the brothers, hearty men, decided to make
a go of it.
They spent weeks upon weeks making
their way up the mountain, where they cleared some land and began farming. Although they
were able to sustain themselves with farming and raising cows, they made no money, as the milk they
hoped to sell didn’t survive the three day trip down the mountain to where the
buyers were. In 1915,
their luck turned. The Australian
government decided to turn the rest of the land in the area into a National
Park (Lamington National Park), and that the brothers could keep their
land. Suddenly, the men had prime real
estate smack in the middle of a tourist attraction. They turned their section of Rainforest into a park and guest house for
tourists, and have had a thriving business ever since.
The most
interesting story around the O’Reilly Rainforest centers on a plane crash. In 1937, a Stinson airliner went missing en
route from Brisbane to Sydney. News of
the crash reached the O’Reilly brothers a week after the disappearance. Most had thought the plane had gone down nearer
Sydney, but Bernard O’Reilly thought differently, and so decided to set out to
look for the wreckage. After three days and nights, O’Reilly came upon the
crash site. Although four men and one woman had died, two badly injured men had
somehow survived for 10 days. They told O’Reilly of a third survivor who had
escaped injury and had gone to get help.
O’Reilly assisted the two men, fed them, gave them tea (in true
Australian fashion), and went on down the mountain to report the location of
the wreck. On his way, he found the body
of the third man, who had died falling over a waterfall on his way to seek
rescue Bernard O’Reilly made it down the
mountain, found help, and the survivors were ultimately rescued. The story was eventually made into an Australian
film called Miracle on the Mountain, which
I noted
We
finally arrived at the top of the mountain.
I thought I had dressed appropriately, in jeans and a sweatshirt, but
the unusually high winds (40-50 knots, by David’s estimation) made the air feel
much colder. Shivering, I pulled up my hood and we
set out onto the path into the rainforest:
David turns out to be exceptionally knowledgeable about plant and wildlife, and the tour is fascinating. Of the many interesting trees and plans he points out, a few really stand out to me. One is a small tree with a flat wide leaf which we are told to avoid (they have been cleared from the areas nearest the path). The leaves have pointy needles on the edges which sting when touched – David describes the pain as excruciating, as though the needles on the leaves had been dipped in acid. He laughingly reminds us that Australia is home to many of the world’s most dangerous plants, insects and animals, points out that his long johns are tucked into his socks, and we continue our trek. Comforting.
Another
really interesting tree is the strangler fig (at least, I believe that’s what
he called it.) The tree begins as small
vines, which creep from the top of the canopy down and around a healthy
tree. Over hundreds of years, vine after
vine grows down around the tree, feeding off the tree and strangling it. Eventually, over hundreds of years, the large
vines completely surround the host tree, effectively strangling it and feeding
off the decomposing body. Because the roots
are vines they become very thin, yet strong, as they enter the ground.
David
told us this tale of the stranglers with such reverence and awe it felt quite a bit like hearing
a ghost story – and I felt chills as I gazed at these immense strangler trees
which had entirely swallowed their poor victims. We came upon a very large strangler fig and
were able crawl in and look inside – it’s completely hollow. I was unable to
get a good photo of the inside – but here’s a view of my British friend
Caroline having a look:
Next we made
it to the canopy walk. Oh my goodness.
Though only about 90 meters in length, the walk is terrifying. The bridge is a wooden suspension bridge, and if
you have the courage to look down, you can see through the slats below to the floor of the forest. The warning signs point out that the bridge can't hold more than 6 people per span, and that it's not a good idea to bounce on the walkway. Noted. The bridge itself is wobbly, even more so with
the exceptionally high winds – I tried to take a video, but within a few feet
I put my camera away so I could firmly grip the sides, and nervously made my
way back to land. 
After the canopy walk, I was freezing, so David offered me a hug (hmmm, awkward) and then told the others to go on as he offered to bring me back to the guest house to warm up (hmmmm, awkward). I did feel better once we were inside, had a little lunch (an Australian beefburger with beetroot and onion relish – actually quite good) and some wonderfully warming hot chocolate.
After
lunch I went back out to wander on my own, to burn off the burger. I headed
back to the path, thinking walking very briskly would keep me warm, and anyway
I wanted to burn of the calories from the big lunch. I went back in the way we
had entered, and made my way to the point where we had left the others, wanting
to see what I had missed and grateful to be on my own for a bit. Walking quickly did indeed keep me warm, and I
came to a spot where a dirt path ventured off from the main path.
Curious,
I decided to follow the dirt path. About
10 minutes in, I realized I couldn’t hear any people, but I could hear lots of
creepy rainforest sounds. I also
remembered that Australia was home to
some of the most dangerous plants and animals in all the world. I decided maybe going off alone on the dirt
path wasn’t the wisest idea – and headed back to the main path again.
Once I found
my way back to the main path, I took a lovely walk through the mountain gardens.
I came upon the 1937 Stinson crash memorial, and sat there for a minute and
tried absorb the fact that I was in Australia wandering through a garden in the
middle of a rainforest on top of a mountain. Pretty awesome indeed.
I made my way back to the guesthouse, and snapped a few pictures of the replica of the 1937 Stinson airliner that had crashed, as well as of some beautiful friendly birds. I don’t know the name of the big black one is some kind of Australian turkey - I can't remember the name, and the gorgeous red and blue bird is the crimson rosella. I watched as they landed on the heads and shoulders of the tourists that were feeding them, thought how adorable that was, and then backed away quickly because I did not want one landing on my head.
By the time we got back onto the bus it was about 3:00, and I was exhausted. I settled in for the drive back to Brisbane and nearly shut my eyes when Debbie, one of my British friends, shouted “wallaby!’ and sure enough, out the window there was a wallaby. No, two wallabies. No, an entire family of wallabies! We snapped some pictures of the adorable mini-kangaroos, and got to watch a few hopping around before making our way home:
We met Bob and the other tourists around 5, and as I got on the bus the friendly Asian man greeted me loudly and I smiled as I moved past him and sat as far away as I could. I worried he’d come back to sit with me, but thankfully he had engaged two unsuspecting South Africans and chatted loudly to them for the drive back to Brisbane. By 6:30, Bob dropped me off at my hotel – it was already dark out, and I was exhausted but smiling. What a wonderful, wonderful day.
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