Next up the Rainforest, our third world heritage treasure experience, after Shark's Bay and the Red Centre. We rose from the leaba early but not brightly, greeting another grand soft day. First leg was a short coach trip to a place called Redlynch, after a "fiery" Irish ganger would you believe. This was a tiny place where we were catching the promising sounding "scenic railway express". Of interest was a cafe located in some old fashioned stationary railway carriages, Red's cottage which reminded me a lot of my Grandparents' place in Co.Kildare of which I have loads of mostly happy memories despite the somewhat primitive conditions prevalent in the 50s and early 60s but that's another story, lots of British + Japanese cameras (sorry - tourists), and a very good museum with real objects and contemporary photographs and press clippings on the lives and artifacts of those who built this magnificent railway between 1886 and 1891. It goes to the top of a high mountain (over 327 metres) and has 15 tunnels. The whole lot was built by the Irish and Italians using only hand tools, except for the dynamite to blast through the tunnels. Today their achievement seems almost beyond belief given the harsh conditions which they faced e.g. tropical wet warm weather, dangerous snakes and spiders, cholera, no shelter other than tents, poor food, lack of medical care, rockslides, falling over the edge, etc. They sure were men and women "with balls". Sadly I think many who brought the whole project into being didn't live to see it completed.

The train journey took about an hour and a half. It was a short enough distance but very steep and very very spectacular with high waterfalls, rickety wooden bridges spanning chasms, the tops of trees below again!, and occasionally through a gap in the green canopy tantalising glimpses of "dinky toy" sights in the distance way below. A real train buff's delight. Going through the tunnels we simply had to close all the windows or risk suffocation by diesel fumes.

I couldn't shake the feeling all through that Butch Cassidy and the Hole in the Wall gang might hop on board at any time and relieve "the civilised" of their precious cameras. Feck, had this happened I'd have stolen the bleedin' bush hat from the gobshite "blocking" our winda and lit off meself into the misty mountain air with Sundance and the boys. I love things like that which make me dream in technicolour. There was one stop on the way (another photo opportunity - nobody seems to be interested in direct unfiltered livin' anymore) before we arrived at our destination, a place called Kuranda at a surprisingly short 28 kilometres out from Cairns. Here we boarded another coach for another short distance to the Rainforest.

First item on the agenda there was to meet the Koalas (again). Surprise, surprise they look and behave exactly like their sleepy furry cousins in Yanchep. Next we saw barracuda feeding and then a large croc, thankfully not feeding. He was in solitary, apparently because of the danger he posed to all others - man and beast. His given name was Killer because he had apparently demolished a large number of cattle and sheep up north before his credit rating with the local IFA (= Farmers) ran out. He looked like he could easily reach up to take our sandwiches, and maybe what was attached to them, no bother if he wasn't so lazy. A big "mudder" best viewed from a safe spot. Next we had a close up meeting with the biggest spider I ever saw. Strange how many of the visitors seemed more put out by this female of the species than the male crocodile. We could shake the web but the spider was also fairly lazy. I suppose when they are well fed they're hardly going to bother themselves much to entertain strange aliens making constant strange clicking sounds. After that we went out into a paddock to mingle with and try feeding snacks to the Kangaroos. At last Ber got on close terms with these Down Under wonders and even had a couple eating out of her hand. I think they were mostly females on the same wavelengths as herself. She'd probably have liked to bring one or two home but I think the dog might have something very serious to say about something like that, not to mention the neighbours. Up very close they look very strong and I'd say could easily bowl you over in full or even half flight. It's no wonder the silly buggers think they can mix it with the automobile.

After the Skippys, we were fed a grand buffet full courses "serve yourself" lunch. Our table companions this time were a young couple/item from London and the conversation was mainly about fear of heights. It cheered me up to know that someone else had worse feelings than moi about looking down from a high wobbling perch. For one fleeting moment of madness I felt that if I were ever back in Pemberton I really would climb that Gloucester Lookout Tree, no problem. Strange what a short time and a long distance does to the brain, isn't it?

After the calls of hunger and the calls of nature were duly mollified, we piled out for the grand tour of the Forest itself. The transport was a yoke called a duck, sort of like an army truck with 4 wheel drive, 14 gears, and a propeller for travelling on water. It was open although you could put up a canvass top cover if it rained heavily. The lad driving it was good gas, full of wisecracks and pulling our leg. His name sounded like something from Eastern Europe but I think he must have had some Irish in him for the craic. He was great at pointing out all that was there, including the Cairns Butterfly (a lovely "poetry in blue motion" sight), and some incredibly horrific trees with a totally innocent looking exterior (one of these, should you brush against it, would sting you so badly that you'd likely die after 3 or 4 "wish you weren't there" days). We also saw a few unusual but shy lizards and turtles while we "shillyied" around on a small lake in the centre of the forest, but alas no snakes although I'd safely say it'd be unwise to go walkabout there in your bare feet.

One of the best bits was when your man stopped precariously (the forest track was really steep and very difficult to manoeuvre on, hence the large number of gears) and suggested we all have some "bush tucker". He reached up a tree trunk and stripping off some bark he grasped a fistful of what was underneath before coming around to all of his "victims" sitting mesmerised in the back of the vehicle and eventually "embarrassing" everyone into indulging. The "tucker" looked like a load of little termites which we had to crush between our fingers before indulging. They tasted good - crunchy and like a cross between nutmeg and pepper. Most (of us tourists I mean) were reluctant to join in but did so anyway, fair play. You could tell instantly who was a true culchie and who wasn't. By way of explanation, I was once forced to eat cow dung on account of some older fellas' idea of a good bit of gas at the time, so I wasn't too bothered displaying my culchie credentials on this occasion.

We followed up the forest safari with a very enjoyable and amusing dance and mime display by some Aboriginal lads, before going out to the fields with them to watch their very skilled spear and boomerang throwing (a tricky operation strangely reminiscent of snooker with its concern for angles). I tried me hand at the latter without too much embarrassment, at least I didn't hit anybody I wasn't aiming for.

Too soon it was time to leave the Forest area and go back to Kuranda village to catch the Sky Rail. This is a cable car system, taking 45 minutes non stop or longer if you wish to stretch the legs and "unstretch" the brains at two stops along the way, to bring you back down the mountain. All I can say is "here we go again" with the tree tops forming the floor until they would suddenly part for a river passing way way down below, driving home (as if I wasn't already sitting on the edge of the seat) how we were really situated, in dizzy suspension halfway to the moon! The lovely Bernadette swanned along with nary a bother at all, truly enjoying the spectacular faces of Nature as well as my own spectacular facial scenery. I should say that the set up was real romantic - a cable car just for two so we could die in each other's arms. If it was a film it'd make you cry. To shorten the agony of my recollection, suffice to state that we arrived back on the ground after what seemed ages and in one piece physically, if not otherwise. They say that these type of stressful activities draw people closer together and maybe it's true - I broke out and bought us ice cream when we landed.