Any decent sized town is likely to have a bakery, and Tolga, according to the phone book, was no exception to the rule. About two blocks down from the motel was a cafe, and we turned into the side street to investigate and, in the process discovered the bakery lurking just behind the cafe.
Fine. Next question. Sit down in the cafe or grab something from the bakery? Anyone who assumes we were looking at whatever would get us to Laura ASAP was the go would be right on the money, and mini pizzas from the bakery did the job. The result was that we were out of Tolga by eight ten or thereabouts, with the next issue being the question of fuelling up. Mareeba seemed the logical choice, so I settled back for the brief sojourn through Walkamin, pointing out the distillery as a possible stop on the return journey.
Now, at this point, there are probably alert readers rolling their eyes at what may be seen as an obsession with alcohol-related venues, but I'd counter the eye-rolling with the observation that we'd end up going where the driver wants to go, so I mention possibilities without expecting too much in the way of eventualities in circumstances like this one.
Past Mareeba it was obvious were we're getting away from the high rainfall belt.
Actually it was obvious before we left Mareeba, but there were large irrigation channels streaming water from Lake Tinaroo to crops of bananas, mangoes, sugar cane and assorted other agricultural produce between Atherton and Mareeba, but they gradually receded into memory once we were well on the Mulligan Highway.
The run up through Mount Molly and Mount Carbine was uneventful enough, with a quick scan of the horizon as we sailed through each township in case there was a pay-phone in view, but given the relatively early hour I wasn't inclined to look too closely. The Palmer River Roadhouse was, as previously indicated, probably the best option.
Scanning the horizon for pay phones was, in addition, less absorbing than watching the terrain and visualising would-be miners, bullock wagons and teams of pack horses battling their way up hill and down dale en route to the various mining discoveries in the hinterland.
Those thoughts were largely prompted after I noted the road down to Mossman that branched off the Mulligan just after Mount Molloy. Madam informed me that at one point, very early in proceedings, before she'd decided to spend a couple of days on the Tablelands, she'd briefly harboured thoughts of using that road to get us back to Cairns.
I'm not sure whether the road actually follows the notorious track that required double teams of bullocks to get wagons over a particularly nasty pinch called, if I remember correctly, The Bump, in that understated way we have of describing significant obstacles.
In any case I seem to recall stories of a very steep descent, and I wasted no time in assuring her that if the subject had been broached I would have been suggesting a look at the alternatives. More...