A different world underwater

The state of Queensland boasts more than 300 sunny days a year. But half the state lies in the tropics - so what can you do when it rains? Quite a bit, as Megan Czisz found out.

We’re in the middle of a perfect storm. A dark haze to the left and right of the catamaran suggests that it’s raining everywhere but where we idle on the calmest water the skipper can find.

Almost one hundred kilometres from the end of wet season drizzle in Port Douglas, we’ve battled unforgiving winds and rollercoaster seas to get here but we’re finally looking on the bright side. Literally. And once we’re underwater in the company of grinning reef sharks no one cares what’s happening above the surface.

After a full day of diving and snorkelling we only come across grey skies again once we’re homeward bound. But by then we’ve found our sea-legs.

The Sunshine State

The state of Queensland covers an area more than seven times the size of the UK and is host to more weather systems than you can poke a barometer at, while still managing more than 300 sunny days a year. When it’s raining in the Daintree, Cairns, 110 kilometres away, can be roasting, and when Cairns is flooding, chances are Brisbane, 1,700 kilometres south, has never seen better weather.

So rain need not be a deterrent to exploring the best of Queensland, particularly in the tropics. In the wet, the sugar cane fields between Mossman and Port Douglas under a dark and rolling sky look like something straight out of a Gangajang song. And in the rainforest, well, it’s supposed to rain.

Views over Cairns from the Skyrail

That’s Why They Call it Rainforest

Northwest of Cairns on the Atherton Tableland is the quirky rainforest village of Kuranda, the final station for the Skyrail Rainforest Cableway which departs from Caravonica Terminal, just outside Cairns.

On one of those 300 sunny mornings, our gondola climbs steadily above the trees and the views of Cairns and its surrounds stretch as far as the ocean. The multi-award winning cableway spans a distance of 7.5 kilometres and allows visitors to see the rainforest from up to 40 metres above the ground.

Gliding along at less than 5 metres per second, we have the chance to watch the scenery change and listen to the thrum of insects in the trees below us as they occasionally drown out the otherwise still silence.

Designed to blend in to its surroundings and minimise environmental impact, we barely notice the Barron Falls Station building, the second of two between Caravonica and Kuranda, before we’re descending through the canopy and alighting for a guided tour.

At the end of the wet season the Falls are thunderous and as we peer down through the trees into the chasm, tiny beads of moisture begin to slide from the leaves of the trees until it’s raining in a torrent to rival the falls themselves. We’re drenched in seconds but no one seems to care. After the thick heat of Cairns it’s refreshing and in the shower the rainforest comes alive.    

The rain has eased by the time we arrive in Kuranda. At 300 metres above sea level, the village is cool and protected by the surrounding forest. We have a chance to sample Barramundi burgers at the village markets and make some furry friends at the Koala Gardens before boarding the Kuranda Scenic Railway for the return trip to Cairns.

Rather than travelling above the rainforest, this time we’re riding through it in creakingly authentic train carriages pulled by a diesel electric locomotive.

The rail line between Cairns and Kuranda dates from the late 1880s and stemmed from the need to link mining towns with the coast to carry supplies inland during a particularly prolonged wet season. After a difficult construction thanks to the harsh geographical conditions including dense jungle, steep slopes and cliffs with sheer drops, the last of the track was laid with much fanfare in 1891.

Today, the air-conditioning is still all natural, coming in the open windows, and we travel through dense forest and man-made tunnels, looking down steep ravines at waterfalls created by the rains. Every now and again the train rounds a bend, giving passengers a view of the tablelands and the carriages themselves, stretching out along the track.

Sea to Sky

Early rising!

Back down at sea level, we’ve just missed a downpour in Cairns. Hair frizzes and sunglasses fog up with steam. Despite the forecast of more showers for the region, two days later we’re on a dawn balloon ride above the Mareeba Valley.

Mareeba has its own microclimate and although it’s bucketing down when we leave Cairns in the dark of four a.m, by the time a burst of flame lifts us and our clownfish-faced balloon into the sky, the air is still. Until we land in a muddy field under the gaze of a startled kangaroo, when, of course, it starts to rain.

By that afternoon, after a flight in a more traditional aircraft, we’re walking along the Brisbane River feeling our shoulders burn in the bright, intense heat. It doesn’t rain at all the whole time we’re in town.