There are plenty of giant strangler figs and basket ferns along the way, and at one point the track takes you through the aerial roots of a monstrous fig tree. Huge. If you really take your time in the right spots there’s always the chance you’ll spot one of the brilliantly-blue Ulysses butterflies (I didn’t, but they’re apparently there).
The track bottoms out as it crosses a creek, and I wasn’t looking forward to the ascent - not so much from the physical exertion viewpoint, just the number of steps I suspected lay in wait.
There are plenty of giant strangler figs and basket ferns along the way, and at one point the track takes you through the aerial roots of a monstrous fig tree. Huge. If you really take your time in the right spots there’s always the chance you’ll spot one of the brilliantly-blue Ulysses butterflies (I didn’t, but they’re apparently there).
The track bottoms out as it crosses a creek, and I wasn’t looking forward to the ascent - not so much from the physical exertion viewpoint, just the number of steps I suspected lay in wait.
As things panned out there were only a couple of uphill sets before the track finished and we found ourselves on the old logging road that takes you back to the car park. That involves a fairly gently uphill stroll over eight hundred metres, which probably helps explain why the stairs I wasn’t looking forward to weren’t there.
Once we were back in the carpark having worked up a healthy appetite it was a case of heading straight into Airlie for what I hoped to be an appointment with a tapas platter, but unfortunately it wasn’t to be.
Once we’d arrived at Capers my inquiries about the contents of the tapas platter were met with a we’re not doing it that way any more and a glance at what was on offer in the menu revealed a number of options you could order individually, though we were informed that each platter contained four of the item in question.
The old arrangement meant you got a range of little platters in a multi-tier structure, with two samples of most of what was in there. That suited us, because I could tackle both offerings of anything that was highly spiced and there’d still be plenty left for Madam, who isn’t chilli-tolerant. One lot of tapas was a comfortable lunch for two.
While it might suit a party of three or four settling out on a lengthy nibble and sip session, the four bit development raised all sorts of potentially thorny choice-related issues, so we opted to go to the standard section of the lunch menu instead. Not that there was anything wrong with my beer battered reef fish, chips and salad or with Madam’s lemon pepper seafood pasta (which I, as usual, had to finish off), both were quite delicious, but the passing of the old tapas scheme removes one of what used to be life in this part of the world’s little delights.