As I mentioned earlier, our cruising buddies thought we were crackers when, after only a few days in New Caledonia, a destination some people save for years and pay bucket loads to visit, we upped and off'd to Australia. Our plan was that we'd get here in time to explore the far north of Queensland before the rainy season, aka "The Wet" washed away all the tourists. And the roads.

We almost made it. After a week and a half on the road, living out our tin box, we finally stopped going north and west and turned for Cairns to drop off Booty Call and pick up our next deal of the century on Sunday. Wait 'till you see this one!!

Just before we turned for the coast we stopped at a roadhouse for petrol and a coffee. You tend to find these places about 180kms from the sign you saw that said "Last Fuel For 180kms". In between there's just bush populated by Mr & Mrs Rancher and their hundreds or probably thousands of cattle on their cattle stations the size of Belgium. And about as interesting. Our stop at the roadhouse coincided with the arrival of the grocery truck. It was deja vu. Or at least, we thought we'd seen it before. The truck is the equivalent of the islands' supply ship and turns up once every two weeks. The locals drive off their stations for a bit of a get together and to pick up fruit, veg and other sundries to last them through the coming weeks. It really was just like being back in the islands.

We reached Cairns after driving 1700kms north then west and north again. We exchanged live, working coal mines and their vibrant, albeit temporary looking towns for silent, long closed tin and gold mines and towns built on wood. Meaning they once had a logging industry as opposed to them being built on wood. If you get my drift. These towns, having lost their industries are now dependent on passing tourist income. And there aren't many tourists let alone income. Slowly we made our way back to the coast where, unlike in the bush, tourists were spending like drunken sailors. A large part of that was because, in the great outdoors it was tipping down so the bars were packed.

And man, has it rained. FNQ, Far North Queensland as its called locally gets three metres of rain a year. That's three times more than the west coast of Scotland. And most of it falls in the four months of The Wet. No wonder the locals all wear big hats.