[I would love to return to Dunk Island but I am sure it would not be the same 28 years later. Sometimes it's better to just keep the memories. There have been other places we've returned to and found them not as wonderful as we thought on the first visit. I think maybe the joy of discovery in new places and things can't be revisited.]
Sunday, July 12, 1992
Into
every vacation, a little rain must fall. It makes our hike through the rest of
the island’s rainforest a little eerie. The restaurant has packed
us a picnic
and we stop by one of the beaches to eat when the misty rain has subsided. The
rest of our hike shows us huge vines traveling up into the canopy above us out
of sight. The roots above the ground at the base of the trees have a distinct
right angle. We have been told that the Aborigines make their boomerangs from
these roots.
Large
nests made of mulch from the forest floor rise 6-8 feet high. They are built by
wild turkeys that we occasionally see scuffling through the trees. The heat
generated by the decaying mulch keeps the unattended eggs warm.
We
keep an eye out for cockatoos and parrots but hear more than we see. The rain
gets heavier as we return.
Our entertainment for the afternoon is provided by a
peacock that almost struts right inside our room.
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