Ray was up bright and early to go to the local fishing shop that had been in the area for 42 years. He figured that if you ran a fishing shop that had been in the area that long, you must know some stuff. He was right! He rang me excitedly after he had been there. He spoke quickly about secret places only the locals knew about, a float that the shop owner made himself and only code $14.95 almost guaranteed to catch a barramundi and a whole bevy of other fishing information that my brain won’t hold because it takes up valuable space required for more important information.

Ray knew he wasn’t permitted back to the van until he had found a barber and had a desperately needed haircut otherwise I would be waiting with the kitchen scissors. So, he was gone for a bit longer giving Henry and I some extra time to organise ourselves.

Henry and I hung out washing, listened to some music and sat together, counting our blessings.

The caravan park sits at the bottom of the rainforest. It’s lush, green and so pleasant to sit and be part of nature.

Bush turkeys strutted past and upset Henry and their little chicks scurried after them causing Henry all sorts of bother. He’s getting more used to them and doesn’t bark anymore, just does a throat growl to let them know they are strutting around his patch.

Ray came back sporting his new haircut. Stunning. He was waving a five page document in his hand that he whipped out of the newspaper. He was so chuffed to report that despite the $9.99 price tag on the front of it, he got the “secret fishing locations” for free from the fishing shop owner because they had such a good conversation. I quite believe this, knowing my husband!

Ray was quick to check the fishing tides and declared that 2pm was when he needed to be on his way to his designated fishing spot.

The lady in the barber shop had told him about a Reserve where we could take Henry where there were no fears about crocodiles being in the water. This is a real concern up here in both rivers, and the beach. Recently, it was reported that two dogs were playing in the ocean and one just disappeared. They suspect that a crocodile took it. It is scary and real. We intended to go and get a coffee and make our way to Goomboora Park.

We headed towards Redlynch but didn’t see any cafes. The drive was quite pretty and tranquil so we just kept on going. The signs for Crystal Cascades appeared and so we decided to go and see if we could take Henry to see them. We have actually seen them before and they are a fantastic place to spend a warm day. Crystal Cascades are fresh water waterfalls that run into waterholes that are great for swimming in. They are accessible down huge granite boulders large enough to lay towels on. The last time we visited here it was a weekend and very busy. Apparently, locals don’t like to spread the word about the Crystal Cascades because they like to keep them a secret from tourists.

We got to the car park and unfortunately saw the “no dogs allowed” sign. It didn’t matter anyway because we didn’t have our bathers with us to swim.

I had to Google a cafe that was open because the need for coffee, and now food, was getting urgent. We returned to Redlynch and found our way to Vines at Limberlost. This cafe was set in an extensive nursery and they had a sign “Dogs Welcome”. We went in and found a shady spot, Henry was right at home under the table where he had a good view of everyone walking past. The waitress said it was lovely having a smiling face looking at her as she approached the table. She meant Henry not Ray!

Lunch was delicious, Ray even trying the coleslaw that his deep fried prawns came with because it wasn’t green, it was purple. He didn’t like it, but at least he tried.

I insisted we have a second coffee and Ray indulged me, but he must have been on tender hooks as it was already 2pm.

Returning to the van, Ray got straight into “doing stuff to his rod” or whatever it is that blokes do before they go fishing. He got changed because he comes back smelling putrid and his clothes are totally ruined. I just don’t know why he has to wipe bait guts on himself. When I’m doing housework, I don’t intentionally wipe dirt and dust on myself and I stay relatively clean. I clean the shower naked while I’m in it and this avoids getting clothes dirty, wet or stained. Now, I’m not suggesting Ray fishes naked, I don’t think Far North Queensland is quite ready for that yet, just that he puts some water in that bucket of his (give it a use) and use it to wash his hands. It’s pure logic to me.

Off he went, Henry and I waving goodbye knowing that we wouldn’t see him until dinner time. We folded washing, cleaned the toilet, shower and kitchen (and stayed perfectly clean). Then we snoozed. When we woke up, a horrible smell filled the van and Henry shot out the open door from which the smell had entered. The horrible smell was Ray. Holding his equally horrible smelling bucket.

Holding my nose, I pushed past him to find Henry who I was concerned could have been anywhere but was sprawled outside desperately gulping fresh air (I think that’s exaggerating…) I put him on his tether and turned to look in Ray’s bucket.

“Ummm…I think you’ve insulted your bucket, my love.” I said. Ray looked in the bucket as well.

“Yep, I’m gonna keep it as bait. It’s actually smaller than the bait that I caught it with.” He laughed.

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Ray spent the rest of the evening checking tide times, talking about his rod and tackle, reliving his day fishing and planning for his next bout of fishing which he informed me was tomorrow. Rightio

Ray suggested it would be a good idea if he did the dishes to help get rid of the last of the fishy smell from his hands that a hot shower and vigorous hand washing hadn’t. I heartily agreed.