On the Road with Joe

The map says Joe and his parents are still on home soil – so why are the locals conversing in Creole, flaunting floral fashions and dining on dugongs? By Lisa Upton.

All those years we thought he was just a likeable boof-head in a bad hat, but it seems Peter Beattie was right – Queensland is tops, especially the far north. There’s so much to see and do I’m not sure what I’d recommend first: walking in the rainforest at Mossman Gorge, snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef, exploring Cape Tribulation or croc-spotting on the Daintree River.

My son, Joe, is much more decisive. For him, far north Queensland’s number one attraction is riding the escalator at Cairns Shopping Centre. Up and down, up and down, up and down we go. After a dozen free rides, I realise I have to tear my little Duracel-powered toddler off the escalator and get him into the car so we can continue north.

We’re planning to go as far as we can on land, and then some – to the tip of Cape York and onto Thursday Island. My partner Greg and I have heard conflicting reports about the state of the road and decide to leave the caravan at a park in Lakeland, near Cooktown. We are worried, too, about our car, but people at the park assure us we’ll be fine. “You won’t have any problems,” says one man. “Last week a group of people took Kombi vans up.” And so we set off to make history, as possibly the first Volvo drivers to travel to the northern-most point of Australia and back.

We leave Lakeland early, and over the next few hours we drift through savannah country and eucalypt forests. Goannas waddle across the road and giant eagles take to the sky as we approach. In places, the dust is so red it’s hard to believe it’s dirt – we seem to be driving across a land of paprika. Massive road trains occasionally bellow towards us. As they pass we are forced to a standstill, our car carpet bombed with red dirt.

Three hours into the trip, Joe begins to get restless. We pour sultanas down his throat and sing round after round of ‘Old MacDonald Had A Farm’. We moo like cows, neigh like horses and baa like sheep, and before long we discover we know a lot of animals but very few animal sounds. Australia boasts wombats and goannas and even the hairy-footed dunnart, but who knows what any of them sound like.

At lunchtime we pull up outside the pub in Coen. It’s called the Exchange. Someone has plastered an ‘S’ in front of the sign. We walk inside and greet the barman. “We don’t see many of those round here,” he says, pointing out the front door to our Volvo XC70.

“You know, the road isn’t as bad as I expected,” I say.

“Ah, love,” he replies, “they’ve taken the challenge out of it.”

He’s wrong. The next day, just north of Bramwell Station, we’re bouncing across corrugations and sliding through great chunks of sand. I regret not insisting we bring a satellite phone. At some point the road improves a little and we relax enough to turn on the radio. Queensland offers only static, but from Port Moresby the rugby results come in loud and clear – The Highlanders have the upper hand.

Having survived the ‘trip to the tip’, we catch a boat to Thursday Island, or TI as they call it. A few hours after arriving we’re in a car with the indigenous actor Charles Passi – star of Remote Area Nurse. TI has a population of 4000, and they are all obsessed with rugby league.

This is an exciting time in TI, because it’s State of Origin week. With Charles as our guide, we drive around looking at homes and cars and businesses plastered in Origin posters. We visit the cemetery, the final resting place for hundreds of Japanese pearl divers. Not far from the Japanese memorial I spot a fresh grave where, amid a sea of bright plastic flowers, an Origin flag sways slowly in the breeze. The flag is blue.

“Those Blues supporters are traitors,” says Charles. He’s disgusted that anybody born on Thursday Island would switch allegiances. “It’s okay if you come from NSW but if you’re born here then you should support Queensland.”

Charles takes us to a lookout where we admire the turquoise waters of Torres Strait and spot some neighbouring islands. The conversation switches to other things. We learn that the lingua franca is Creole, floral print is the unofficial dress code, there are more churches than pubs and turtle and dugong are the local delicacies.

These traditional foods are eaten at weddings and funerals, but for everyday tucker Island Rooster dominates the market. Later, walking down the main street, we overhear a conversation between two teenagers, one an employee of the fried chicken shop. He’s doing a survey. The conversation is a mix of English and Creole but we catch most of what they’re saying.

island rooster boy: Do you like chicken?
second boy: Yes.
island rooster boy: How often do you eat chicken?
second boy: All the time, it’s one of my favourite foods.
island rooster boy: Do you prefer eating chicken or turtle?
second boy: Ooh, um … that’s a hard question. Turtle, I think I prefer turtle.

Kids at the local primary school also confirm turtle as their number one food. We are asked to talk to 50 children about our trip around Australia. They’re interested, but Joe’s the real hit, decked out in his new floral shirt. For the rest of our time on the island we hear youthful shouts of “Yo – Joe-Joe!” in thick Creole as our son beams from his pram.

We are in Australia, so the map says, but we feel like we’re in a fascinating foreign land.

Lisa Upton is travelling around Australia with her partner, Greg Bearup. Their experiences will be published in a book he is writing – Adventures in Caravanastan. Volvo and Jayco caravans are sponsoring their trip.

Open Road September/October 2008