Haunted Beaches of Cape York (Cape York Solo 5 of 5)

Cape York Solo: Part V of VwCaptain Billy’s Landing is a well-known camp spot on the eastern side of Cape York.  Many bypass it because it requires a sixty-kilometer detour (thirty in, thirty out) but like much of Far North Queensland it’s something spectacular to behold.

A seemingly infinite beach with soft surf, heaps of tidal caves, and exotic marine life running all over the place.  Just don’t stay on the beach too long or you’ll get skin cancer.  And don’t go in the caves either, because the fumes emitted by the fungus in there are extremely toxic.  And for the love of god don’t go in the water- a crocodile will eat you for sure.  Other than that it’s a brilliant spot.  Did I mention I’m pretty sure it’s haunted?

So I was holding the place down by myself… not that big of a surprise, since the high season is pretty well over.  I turn on my phone to check the time and it rings straight away.  Now I know there’s no cell service up there, so I get a bit weirded out.  Naturally the Caller ID isn’t helpful, reporting just “Unknown Caller.”  I pick up and nobody’s on the line.

A’ight, kinda freaky but at least I know what time it is.

I pick a spot to camp facing the ocean (but not too close) so I’ll wake up to sunrise over the waves.  Which was a great plan… until I woke up around midnight to strobe lights blinking every minute or so.  Emerging from the tent I solved this mystery pretty quick- the clouds had formed up and were mounting a fierce lighting strike on my location.

“Buzzkill.”

The thunder hit hard.  I don’t know if Captain Billy was a pirate or just the leader of a baseball team, but it sure did sound like eighteenth-century nautical warfare was taking place on top of my tent.

I scrambled my gear into the shelter of the welcome kiosk, which had just enough roof to cover myself and an informative poster on the area’s birds.

I thought about the road I had taken in here.  It was twisty and chock full of loose dirt… dirt that would turn into mud.  Mud, which would be impassible.  Worse than that I was still north of the mighty Wenlock River- the “Point of No Return” when the wet season beings.

I started to panic a little (just a little) and seriously considered packing up and sprinting south.  Was this just a passing storm, or the beginning of the imposing wet season?  And if the latter, could I make it south of the Wenlock before it rose too far over the road?

I decided to wait it out.  Trying to ride in this dump in the middle of the night would be suicide.  Plus, packing up is a real pain in the ass.

So I hunkered down under the tiny roof and finally feel asleep.  When I woke up about six hours later, I crept out of my tent into the halcyon slice of paradise I had known before the sun went down complete with gentle breeze, dry ground and not a cloud in the sky.  It was as if I had dreamed the evening’s calamity.  Hell, I’d been living off beef jerky and instant coffee for the last week… maybe I did.

In any case I was happy to have my fears of becoming stranded allayed, and even happier to crack into a fresh mango for breakfast on the beach.

The fruits were growing in excess at the Archer River fuel depot where I had camped a couple nights prior, and the cute Scottish chick working the till there had been kind enough to pick a few for me.  Way better than the pot of plain rice I would have eaten otherwise.

After breakfast I was staring into the sea pondering space and time when I gathered more evidence for the haunting of Captain Billy’s Landing.

Out of the blue and clear as day, I heard the sound of a boatswain’s whistle cut through the wind.

You know, one of those two-tone pipes they blew on old ships to get the attention of the crew?

(Click this text for soundsample: \”Boatswain\’s Whistle\”)

Yes I’m sure it wasn’t the wind.

It was definitely the ghost of Captain Billy calling his crew of the damned to rise out of Davy Jones’ locker and download a copy of my Jimmy Buffet playlist… or whatever it is tropical ghosts might do.

In any case I wasn’t trying to stick around and find out so I loaded up the bike and burned rubber back to the development road.  Southbound on the last couple days of a big solo ride at this point and eager for some greasy urban food… let’s motor!