July 3rd

Sunday, Airport day. The day we leave Sydney, and the day we land before we take off. Ariel wakes me and says we slept in, and we'll probably only have an hour or so to do stuff in Sydney. She brings me a small instant coffee which I empty in a single gulp.

We packed almost everything last night, so we put away the laptops, zip out luggage shut, put all the 'convenience' stuff back in the fridge, I put the 2 hot sauce bottles in my in my check-in bag, and I go up with Henry to the car to put the first load in the trunk.  Henry checks for skinks or emus or any suprise Australian wildlife that we can find. He's not picky. 

We put the first suitcases in the car, and I go to main office to get the paperwork started for checkout. There are two charges for internet access, which I am expecting. Did we use anything from the mini-bar? No.  I need Ariel's credit card to complete the transaction. I'll be right back with that. I meet Henry back at the car, and Henry reports that the skink has finally wisened up (or been collected by another resident). The other two boys meet us at the car, and we try to figure out how we'd managed to get all the suitcases to fit in the trunk on the drive down.  Ariel comes up the path, we pay for our room, and hit the road.  The day is sunner and warmer than any other day this entire trip.

The plan is to take the Harbor Bridge into Sydney and stop at "The Oak Barrel" on Elizabeth St, where I can pick up a bottle of Australian whisky, as requested by my friend Steve from work. Ariel reads the map.  It is bright outside, and I have a few more hours of sleep in me, so we successfully navigate onto the bridge and soon turn in to the city.  

As soon as we exit the expressway, there arises doubt as to which direction we are headed. I read aloud street names as we pass them, and Ariel tries to find them on the map.  When she does get bearings and tells me what direction to go, I go the opposite direction, instinctually feeling that it's right.  She throws up her hands and says 'see, that's why your so hard to navigate with, you don't follow directions.' I agree, I must be frustrating as hell to navigate for.  Despite our curious navigation system, we miraculously arrive at Elizabeth St. and find a place to park near the south end of Hyde park. Ariel asks if I know the address, I say 'yes'.  We walk North to where I think the bottle shop should be, but it's not there. We go another block and I start getting nervous. We go a third block and Ariel asks what the address is. I concede that I don't know the EXACT address, but I looked at it on Google maps back in Hayward, and I looked at the storefront using Google's "street view" and I'm absolutely certain that we're close. 

We find a Starbucks, and pop in for coffee, breakfast and directions.  While waiting for our order, I ask the barristas if they've heard of the "Oak Barrel", no one has heard of it.  I mention that it's a bottle shop, and watch their expressions change to one of recognition as one says "Oh, the bottle shop!!!", and they all point down the street, back the way we'd come. It's by the museum entrance...  We must have walked right past it.

 We head back to the car, slowly re-checking all the store fronts.  Most are closed on Sundays.  After traveling the full three blocks back to the car, I look across the street and see the shop. We parked in front of it.

We cross the street, and discover that it's closed. I look helplessly through the window and Ariel takes a picture to prove that at least we tried.  We now have about an hour left before we have to head to the airport, so I pull out the map and see how far we are from the Queen Victoria Building.  We're 3 blocks south, and 3 blocks east. We decide walking is more efficient than finding another parking spot, and we could definitely stand to stretch our legs before the 13 hour trip home.  So, at 11:00AM on our last day in Sydney, we walk back up the same three blocks for the third time.  We turn on to King St., and pass a pair of open bottle shop/bars. I vow to check them both on the return to the car.   We get to the QVB, and there is a man outside making a giant chalk mural. There is also a monument nearby with a life-size bronze statue of some sort of terrier. A recording emenates from the monument in a deep booming voice, "I am the friend and companion of Queen Elizabeth..." It is a talking monument to Queen Elizabeths dog. Puzzled as to how he keeps from going insane listening to this all day, I look at the artist, and he holds up a pair of head phones and smiles. Ariel hands Henry some change and has him put the money into the coin jars the man has set up at the four corners of his masterpiece, the man is earning it the hard way.

We ascend the escalators to the top floor, and dip into one of the first shops on the right side. There is a backpack there which looks very tough and rustic. The label on it says "Kakadu Packs", and it explains that the bag is made in Australia with only the finest quality materials. I consider buying it (for $99, marked down from $199) but I don't really need another backpack, and the straps look really hard to get open quickly.  Ariel says she's going to check out the paper store next door for souviners, I mumble something like, "ok, we'll meet up when we're done."  I look at wallets briefly, since mine has started to fall apart on the trip, but I don't really want a crocodile or kangaroo skin wallet, and nothing else really looks durable. I return to the rustic backpack,and undo the straps to check out the construction quality inside. In the seam, I notice a tiny label that reads "Made in China."  Everything in the store immediately ceases to be interesting, and I head out. The boys are mulling about near the top of the escalators looking unbearably bored. Henry runs over to show me a picture he took of the stained glass window nearby. It's a nice shot. 

I go in to see what is taking Ariel so long, and she meets me in the doorway, and asks what is taking us so long. Turns out, she had thought we were meeting her in the paper store. Back in one group, we continue along the length of the QVB, but all the shops are just variations on high-end clothing, jewelry or art stores. Nothing appeals, and we're quickly running out of time, so we head back along the opposite side of the building, looking for the down escalators.  Apparently the Queen didn't approve of down escalators because we couldn't find any. 

We take the stairs down, exit the way we came in, and pass the chalk artists who is now hard at work, working happily with his headphones on.  We stop at the crosswalk under a giant statue of Queen Victoria.  When the light turns to 'walk' everyone starts walking every which way through the intersection. I'd forgotten that in Sydney, when the cars stop, some intersection become a pedestrian free-for-all.  I run to the middle to take a 360 panoramic shot, but the camera is set wrong, and is moving a little slow, so when the panoramic is complete, I'm alone in the intersection, and the light is green. I retreat before anyone has time to honk, and we head to the first 'bottle shop' on the way back.  I enter, and ask about getting a bottle of fine Australian Whisky.  A gruff bald gentleman with bad teeth replies 'Sorry, we import all our whiskies from Scotland'.  Strike one. I move to the next pub/bottle shop. The young woman behind the bar says she doesn't think so, but goes in the back to ask her manager. A young well dressed man comes out, and I inform him that we're on our way to the airport in 10 minutes, and my friend back in the States needs a bottle of Australian whisky for his whisky club.  He looks over his collection in the window, and confirms that indeed they don't have anything resembling Australian Whisky, and at this point, my best bet was to try the duty-free shops at the airport. Strike two, with a possible lead.

We get to the car and I drive surface streets roughly south towards the airport. Ariel tries navigating for me, but I quickly pass the edge of the map, so we're flying blind. We pass 'Doody St.', and the boys giggle like school girls.  Henry tries to get a picture, but we're throught the intersection before he can get a shot.  We find a major looking street and head south hoping for the best.  We eventually hit Reiordan Street which takes us to a last-stop gas station that we'd visited almost exactly one week ago. I pump, and Ariel and the boys grab snacks for the long plane ride home.  

I pull into the airport, and we drop off the car at Budget, take an 'it's sad to be leaving Australia' picture under the 'International' sign, and head in to luggage check. We walk to one end of the airport, and then are told that it's on the other end. We are running a little tight, so we all walk quickly through the crowds to the other side of the departures building. We get to the counter, and the woman there explains we all have to fill out forms before we can get checked in. Ariel starts filling out forms. JP anounces that he's found free wi-fi on his Droid. I realize my phone has no charge, so I find an outlet, pull my phone and charger from my luggage, and plug in.  It takes us 15 more minutes to get the luggage checked, and before heading to the terminal, I pull my phone from the charger, only to find that the 'charging' light had not come on. The outlet didn't have power.

The luggage lady instructs us in the direction of Security, and informs us that from there, it's a 25 minute walk to the plane. We have exactly 25 minutes before the plane begins boarding.  We rush to the security line. The line doesn't budge for 5 minutes, but when it finally does, we go through without incident. We weave our way through the obstical course of shops, strategically positioned to keep passengers from getting to their planes without first having to swerve through every display of their duty-free wares.  I find a shop that sells alcohol and ask if they have anything resembling Australian whisky. The gentleman says no, (strike three), but they do have a bottle of Tazmanian whisky. I say I'll take it without asking about price. The gentleman goes into the back for 3 minutes, and I start to get nervous. I ask another attendant how much said bottle of whisky will cost, but the first gentleman returns before he can get me a price. I am relieved to see that the price is not too outrageous, so I put it on the Amex, and we dash the rest of the way to the plane.  The plane is already boarding, and we are on the plane before anyone has a chance to think about so much as a bathroom break.  We're seated next to Justin, a kinesiology student from Calgary who has spent the last semester at a college near Brisbane. 

The plane takes off quickly, and the captain announces that we have a good tail wind and should land in less than 13 hours. The in-flight entertainment begins and we watch the first movie, a cute, witty New York chick-flick called 'Thank you, more please.' 

I grab the boys' camera and transfer all the images to my desktop. I've only selectively been copying the best ones for the web, but Ariel wants me to burn a CD when we get back.  The engine is loud, so I'm not sure how my 'video interview with the boys' idea is going to work.  I'm thinking maybe it would be best to do it at the 4th of July picnic tomorrow. I think I'll try to get some sleep now, and we'll all find out how the story ends in a few hours.

How the story Ends:

The plane lands, I say fare-well to Justin (who has another 5 hour flight to Canada ahead of him.)  Ariel says she can't imagine a worse flying experience.  Ariel and JP have been feeling claustrophobic the whole trip, and are dying for a cigarette. Stiffly we exit the plane and JP sends Rebecca a text message that we are back onto American soil, or at least boarding-tube carpet.

We walk to the customs line, and a cheery Philipino officer asks us if we are bringing anything alive or dangerous into the country. We say no, and he takes our word for it.  No food sniffing beagles, no bomb or drug checks, just a short walk to the luggage carousel to pick up our luggage and were done.

After 10 minutes, my luggage pops out onto the carousel, and I joke with William that it's a lonely feeling waiting for your luggage to arrive.  Half an hour later, the carousel shuts down.  I ask a guy in a yellow vest where the rest of our luggage is, and he says that was all there is, and to go to the claims window to figure out what happened.  After another half an hour the claims-desk attendant confirms that our other four bags never left Sydney. Ariel fills out a form, and they promise to call us if anything shows up.  Exasperated, we head out the final doors to meet Rebecca and Rachel.  We step outside where the smokers can find relief, and after a brief debriefing, to make sure all the boys are in fact home safe and in one piece, we split off to our respective homes to get some decent sleep. We can all re-convene tomorrow over pulled-pork and fireworks. 

Sydney Again

Sydney, Last full day:

We begin with a reluctant 4:00AM wakeup, then another 4:15 re-wake-up for the boys... and we are driving out of the Alassio parking garage by 4:45.  We drive down the Highway to the Cairns airport, drop off the rental, check our bags, and grab some coffee from an airport "Skybury" Coffee stand. Ariel gets a latte with a nice heart shape in the foam.  I order a chai for $4.00 which tastes like weak apple cider.  

We get to the gate in time for boarding, and the airline attendant is talking into a microphone, a mere four yards away, but somehow the accoustics of the hallway make everything she says completely unintelligible.  Ariel goes up to clarify, and the woman relates that she has called rows 28-40, but she will board anyone in line. We all grab our bags, but then when we get up to the front of the line, she changes her tune, and says that since we are in rows 3-5, we need to wait.  After that bit of fun, we board our Virgin Australia flight to Sydney, and are greeted by a male steward who tells everyone we are ahead of schedule and are prepped to fly 15 minutes early. We then taxi out and sit on the tarmac for 15 minutes before take-off.  I fire up the laptop and write a short program, William reads his Harry Potter book, Ariel and the other two boys try to find a comfortable enough position to catch up on sleep.

Two and a half hour later, we land in Sydney, grab our luggage, get coffee and muffins (I get a mocha this time) and we argue with the Budget rental guy about what size car we should have and how much it should cost us for one day.  Eventually we come to an accord.  

In the midst of this, Henry and JP engage in a suitcase fight, and JP's left side big toenail gets caught, bends up and starts to bleed.  It's the same toe, on the same side as the toenail I bent up shortly after we landed in Sydney a week ago.  This time I have extra bandaids handy.

After negotiations end with the Budget representative, we decide on a Holden SV6, a popular Australian car, which the rep assures us has more trunk space than the Ford.  When we go out to the garage to pick it up, the lady with the keys informs us ours is the red car.   We manage, barely, to cram all 5 suitcases in the trunk and we drive out of the airport in search of the fastest route to our hotel.

Having not clearly defined what that route looks like exactly, we quickly end up in Southern Sydney's maze of streets, with no obvious route to the Harbor Bridge.  Eventually luck smiles, and we get to familiar territory and the rest of the drive to North Ryde is smooth sailing.  We stop briefly at a mini-mart to grab some milk and cereal for breakfast. 

Ariel tells me that she heard from a local at the airport that every time there is a hurricane or flood in North Queensland, the gecko and cane-toad populations are displaced/decimated, and it takes a year or two for the populations to replenish. That explains why we had'nt seen even one this trip.

We continue to the hotel, and Ariel checks us in while we unload, we are in room 28 this time instead of 26, the only noticable difference is that we take the left walkway instead of the right. While bringing down our luggage, William spots a two-foot-long blue-tongue skink against the wall of the parking garage.  Now you're probably saturated with pictures of us petting native Australian wildlife, but seeing something like this just lying out in the open is a bit of a shock. Stuff like that just never happens back home.  I cautiously pick up the skink and check him out. He's reluctant, but docile. He's got some pretty deep scars and has a few mites near his head. I try to pull them off, but he hisses loudly, so Henry takes a few glamor shots, and we set him on his way. 

We drop off our luggage, fire up the netbook, buy 24 hours of internet time, and check the ferry schedules for the Manly Ferry. It runs every half hour, so we drive to Sydney to take a ferry ride. We've learned by now that parking in Sydney sucks, so we head up George St. to the the Rocks where we had good luck last time.  We notice the Weekend Market is in swing again, and pull into a nearby parking spot. Then we see the 'P2' and 'P4' parking signs. We look around and notice there are solar powered parking ticket dispensers every hundred yards or so, and we postulate that their purpose is allow you to pre-purchase parking time up to 4 hours, but we cannot seem to get the device to register more than an hours worth of time.  Looking up at the underside of the brige above us, we notice a group of blue-jersey tourists making their way across a girder. It appears we are witnissing a bridge-walk tour.  JP comments that his fear of heights would not make that a very fun thing to do.

We assume there is just something wrong with that particular parking meter, and circle around to the far side of the Rocks.  There we find the area too is metered parking, with slightly different rules.  Ariel tries a meter machine again, this time using a credit card, but the charge doesn't go through. We all scramble our loose change together, and somehow get a 4 hour card to spit out.  

We head up the stairs, and under the harbor bridge to the Weekend Street Market.  One of the first stands we see it the "Hottest Chili in the World" stand, and I think, "Oh here we go again", but miraculously, although it is the same company as the one in the Kuranda Markets, this stand does have a sauce made from the pulp of the Scorpoin Butch T. pepper, the for-reals hottest pepper in the world.  

I ask if the man has a sample we can taste, and again, unlike the Kuranda market, he pulls out a sample jar, and asks me to grab a chip. I hold out my chip and as he dips the bottle, a huge blob pours out of the jar, I hear him say 'whoops' to himself. JP grabs a chip and gets a sample as well.  We pop them in our mouths, and I recognise the nice taste, and then the burn. It's the same sauce that was used on the burger that I had to sign a waiver before ordering, (and ultimately could not finish) at the Swingin' Door Pub in San Mateo.  The burn is like the Energizer bunny.  It doesn't stop for 15 minutes, so, of course, I bought a bottle. 

We decide to do some more souviner shopping and grab lunch before hitting the ferry dock.  We walk back along George Street where we I noticed a 'rock shop' from the car on the way in.  unfortunately, much like all the other rock-shops we've seen this trip, it turns out to be just a jewelry store that specializes in opals.  We leave the store, and find a souviner shop across the street. There we find some cool shirts and stuff.  About this time the burn in my mouth is starting to subside, but my stomache is starting to react as if I had swallowed battery acid.

We cross the street again and enter "The Rocks Cafe."  We are lead up a tightly wound wooden staircase in the back, and are seated on the second floor.  We order and Henry sets his camera down on the next table over, to do a timed shot.  The waitress notices and offers to take our picture. She snaps no less than 7 shots from several different angles, talking the whole time.  All the shots turn out blurry or uninteresting. The food is good though, and the chips and sandwich take care of my battery acid problem. I order another chai just to keep from passing out from exhaustion. When it comes, it's almost all froth, and goes down like warm milk. Not the effect I was hoping for.

Sated, and almost two hours in-to our four hour parking validation, we head for the ferry. The Aboriginal guy is still on the corner jamming out his tunes. We rush to the Manly ferry terminal to find that we missed the boat by two minutes. We decide to ride the Darling Harbor ferry instead. The Darling ferry leaves in four minutes, and we have to run two terminals over to catch it. We get our tickets just as the ferry starts to board.  The boys want to ride on the top level, so we climb the steps, but by the time we get there, there are only seats open for the two older boys.  The rest of us stand, which is fine by me.  I try to snap a picture of all the boys as we pass by the Opera House, but the ferry is rotating quickly, and the sun is low, and every time everything is lined up, I end up facing into the sun, and the boys are all silouhetted. A crew member instructs us that if we don't have a place to sit, we'll have to ride below. 

Grudgingly, Ariel, Henry and I decend to the lower platform. The ferry goes under the Harbor Bridge, and stops at Luna Park, as it takes off again, I ascend to try to get another shot of the big boys, but the entire ferry is now in shadow. I also notice that a bunch of new people had boarded at the last stop, and a lot of them were standing on the top deck. We pass back into the sun, but now there isn't much along the lines of majestic backdrops, so I go below again to find Ariel, and the boys soon follow.  We make a few more stops and end up in Darling Harbor. This is the same area where we ate kangaroo the first night in Sydney. Ariel wants a latte, so we walk South towards the Starbucks. The ferry docked farther North than we expected, and it takes us a good half hour to get to the coffe shop. 

We order (I get a chai, because I know it won't suck), and when we get our drinks, Ariel realizes that we'd have only 8 minutes to get back on the next ferry. We decide to take our time and mozy back slowly. It's going on 5:00PM, so all the shops are closing as we pass by. 

We get back to the ferry terminal, and are within 3 minutes of the next launch, which returns directly to Circular Quey. We board, the boat backs out.  It's not yet dark, but it is long past the time when we could get good photos of anything. Before we know it, the ferry is pulling in to the Quey.  Walking back to the car, we pass the Aboriginal Didgeridoo-er and JP stops and buys a CD.

Heading back, I have the now ritual hard time navigating to the turnaround for the bridge.  Just past North Sydney, everyone has fallen asleep, and where I'm supposed to turn for the hotel, I don't, and we get stuck on the M2 for an additional 7 kilometers as there are no exits until the town of Epping.  Ariel tries to help me navigate, but it's dark, and the map is printed very small, and I'm 

frustrated and tired, and am not really being as communicative as I could be, and it just takes a lot longer to get back than it should.  As we pull up to the hotel, I find a taxi parked smack across the driveway. He gets out and motions us to pass not understanding that he's in our way, meanwhile a bus pulls toward us from the opposite direction. I pull behind the taxi who doesn't budge, and the bus has barely enough room to pass behind us. After what feels like an eternity, the taxi cedes, and pulls forward. Descending into the sloped driveway, I'm relieved, and even a bit smug, that at least all the fuss wasn't because of my American driving habits.  

I park, and we all pile back in to the hotel room. JP goes upstairs and crashes immediately, Ariel fires up her netbook to arrange boarding passes for the flight home. We ponder swapping our seats to the next class up, but the upgrade would cost us an extra $500, and we wouldn't be seated together. When I find out, that we wouldn't get those nice 180 degree reclining seats and personal TV screens that United was advertising, I decide that not only is it not worth it, but I don't want give United any more money than we absolutely have to. Ariel shows me the seating arrangements, and while it's still cramped, it's much better than our flight out.  We should have that big center box behind us this time, instead of next to us, crowding out the middle row.  That change alone should ease some of the clostrophobic feel.  

We probably have a few hours in Sydney tomorrow before we board the plane, but we won't have internet access until we're back state-side, so this will be the last blog post of the trip.  I plan to do some videos with the boys on the plane ride back, just discussing their favorite, and least favorite parts, etc.  I'm not sure what I'll do with it all, maybe one last blog post after we've all rested up a bit. Hope you've enjoyed it as much as we have.

- A, J & the Boyz  

Port Douglas

This morning, I woke late, and not having a clear plan in mind, we didn't hit the road until almost noon. We headed North with a rough idea of hit a beach somewhere, hopefully near a reef.  We drove for 15 minutes, stopping a few times, and deciding to move on, waiting for something better. The sun had been shining all morning, but dark clouds were quickly advancing from the South. We stopped at Thala Beach Lodge to grab a coffee, and ask the locals about a good place to swim.  While waiting for my latte, I wandered through the restaurant, and saw about 20 rainbow lorakeets squawking over some food in a tree just off the veranda.  The woman who took my order said that any accessible beach to the North was pretty good for swimming, but there weren't any nearby reefs within swimming range.   Undeterred, we got back on the road, but just past the entrance to Oak Beach, the road turned inland.  I pulled over so we could decide whether to go back to the last beach we passed, or to continue on to Port Douglas for lunch.  Henry and Ariel wanted to go back. JP and I wanted to go forward. William didn't want the responsibility of being the tie-breaker, so nature broke the stalemate. As we deliberated, it began to rain.  

We drove another 5 minutes, and arrived at the roundabout to Port Douglas. The town is built entirely on a tiny peninsula, and in many respects, is just a glitzier, and larger version of Palm Cove. It is advertised as the 'jumping off place' to explore the wonders of Far North Queensland.  The bottom of the peninsula is lined on both sides with expensive looking resorts, and the tip is, among other things, a giant shopping center.  I knew this going in, but still wanted to add it to our list of 'been-there' locations.  We drove through the shopping district, and managed to find a parking spot not too far from food.  By this time the rain had subsided, but the wind was kicking up.  We walked down the main sprawl, full of mostly cliché junk (except for Disco Buddha,) and settled on an outdoor restaurant/bar at the corner of Wharf Street and Macrossan, appropriately named, Wharf Street Bistro.

Kangaroo steak was on the menu, and since we had all enjoyed marsupial meat so much in Sydney, I ordered it again. This time though, it was much larger, a bit chewier, and covered in a pepper sauce that really didn't work for me.  Ariel thought the sauce was good, and JP confirmed the meat itself was not.  Ariel, Henry and JP all had burgers which they said were excellent, and William ordered a fried calamari, which looked amazing.  Unfortunately, I was a little premature in the picture taking department today, and only have a shot of us at the table before the food arrived. At least we'll always remember that we were order number 35.

After we ate, Henry found some weaver ants on a pole, and a gruff local warned, "careful, they bite." In 2006 outside 'the Outback Opal Mine', I'd learned that you could eat them, and he verified that the abdomen's tasted sweet like a grape, but again he warned that their bites hurt... I replied that it sounded like a reasonable response to getting your abdomen eaten, and that we were far too full from lunch to try one now.

We crossed Wharf street heading toward the beach, but it started to drizzle again, and so we took shelter under a pair of curtain fig trees. Years ago, other visitors had tied and braided the dangling roots, which had  since, fused together into natural ropes and swings. Naturally, the boys and I climbed right up.  On the second tree, William attempted a Tarzan swing, but the thin roots were too weak, and half-way out, the root snapped and he landed on his butt. I apologize profusely for lack of video of this event.

The drizzle subsided, and we continued on to a beautiful beach, where the tide had receded far enough to allow some amazing shell hunting. I found the-most-incredible shell of the trip, which someone before us had left in a pile of shells.  The boys found some nickel sized black sea-stars, and Henry caught a little black crab.  We uncovered a foot-long black sea slug, but I have no record of this either, because it was featureless and for the most part just looked like wet poo.  We walked under the pier, and on the other side, saw some young fig trees suspended three feet into the air by their long root system which mirrored in size and shape, sans leaves, the branches above.

On our way back under the pier, I found an orange piece of live coral about the size of a Twinkie.  I took a photo, because at this point I'm afraid that's this is the only coral reef we are apt to see this trip.  Walking back I snapped another shot of Ariel from the ground near some fig tree saplings. The angle of the shot made it look like she is a giant.  

We walked down the shopping center looking for souvenirs, but nobody's heart was really into it, and Henry really wanted to hit a beach on the way home, so after popping into a few shops, we decided to head back. 

The van's gas gauge was almost empty, and we needed to be back at the hotel at 5:00 to check out before the office closed. (We could stay in the room until 4:00AM, but Ariel needed to work out the bill)  We had about an hour and a half to get back, but this was no big deal since the drive back to Palm Cove only took half an hour.  We stopped at the first point South of Port Douglas where the road met the beach, and jumped out. The tide was still out, and the water had receded about 200 meters out.  We saw what looked like reef poking out of the water, so the boys grabbed their swim gear and we headed across the sand.  

What appeared to be empty sand, turned out to be an entire mini-eco-system, with piles of sand tubes everywhere from clams, tiny balls of sand from some type of creature, and starfish. Thousands of star-shaped divots in the sand contained little brown starfish, most of which were about 4 inches across. You literally couldn't walk more than three feet without seeing one. In the troughs where there were little pools of water, the starfish were crawling around, and in the packed sand, all one could see was the silhouette they left when they buried themselves.    

The boys reached the water, and dropped their gear in a pile, and waded in. The water was murky and brown like a latte. The boys walked 100 yards out, but the water was barely past their knees.  They headed back to drop off their flippers, which were making it hard to walk.  I walked up the shore a bit, and tried to get some scenic shots, but we all met back after JP stepped on some sharp rocks, and got some very minor cuts on his feet.

I dropped Ariel and the boys off in front of our hotel, and drove down to Clifton beach to fill up the van.  On the way back, just before the Palm Cove turn off, I noticed a large brown stuffed-animal looking thing on the side of the road. Someone had hit a kangaroo. 

I got back, and the boys were watching TV, and Ariel was booking our rental car for tomorrow in Sydney. I wanted to visit the city of Yorky's Knob, (and maybe get a t-shirt), but the consensus for dinner was 'something easy'. It looked like things were leaning towards pizza delivery, but I really didn't want to spend my last night in Cairns in front of the TV eating pizza, so I fired up the laptop and found a restaurant in Yorky's  Knob that had an online take-out menu. I phoned in our order using Skype on the netbook, and at 6:30pm on our last night in Cairns, JP and I drove 20 minutes South to Krokodillo's in Yorky's Knob to pick up a pair of Meat-Lover's pizzas and a 2-Liter of Coke.  By this point Cooks Highway have become second nature, and we zipped through the roundabouts like pros.

The restaurant was on the towns single main road, so we didn't need a map to find it. I parked, it was already dark out. There were a few locals mulling around outside, inside, Krokodillo's looked more like a hip café, it was small, and had some local artists work on the walls.    While waiting for food I walked over to a large black and white spiral piece that had caught my eye.  I'd assumed it was made with tile, but up close, I observed it was actually just strategically placed drops of enamel paint on brown canvas. The result was stunning.

No other pictures this day. We returned with food, and ate.  Ariel cleaned the shells we found, and then discovered that my "most-incredible shell" was still occupied by a hermit crab. Henry walked him out to the beach where he can hopefully make it to safety before getting harassed by some other unsuspecting tourists.

Everyone packed their stuff, and headed to bed around 9:00. We'll need to get up by 4:00AM to get to the Cairns airport on time.  If all goes according to plan, this marks the end of our time in Far-North Queensland.