58 Australian GeographicIt’s February, the Wet is in full swing and the river is running
high and fast. Our raft – one of seven – will be commanded by
Dave Macfarlane. The Raging Thunder Adventures guide knows
just how powerful the water is, because the Kareeya Hydro Power
Station above us is at maximum output, hitting an impressive
88 megawatts. He adjusts our route accordingly.
It’s not just the churning Tully River that has benefited from
the deluge. Across the region, the waterfalls are roaring, the look-
outs are lush and, as a cooling afternoon storm rolls in, the sky
turns from clear blue to a brooding charcoal.
In the rainforest everything seems alive. Day and night, every
bird, bug and frog sings happily among the dripping leaves. The
Wet Tropics are nothing if not loud.
But today, the attention of our helmeted and life-jacketed
group of 40 is focused on the boulder-filled Tully River that cuts
through the 54,300ha national park.
Among those on board our raft is Shaun Bennett, who spends
eight months of the year spreading concrete in Medicine Hat, in
the Canadian province of Alberta, and the other four feeding an
adrenaline habit. He’s only been in the area two days and has
already chalked up one tandem skydive and six bungee jumps.
Tomorrow he’s diving on the Great Barrier Reef, but I won-
der if the Canadian realises just how closely north Queensland’s
two great World Heritage areas – the ancient rainforest and col-
ourful reef – are linked. Dr Paul Chantrill, a Wet Tropics Manage-
ment Authority program manager, says he probably does; the
interdependence between the two always piques the interest of
visitors. The Reef was rainforest 10,000–20,000 years ago and
below the surface is still inextricably connected to it. Fresh water
disgorges 20–30km out to sea through ‘wonky holes’. These were
once river channels that, when the last Ice Age ended and the sea
level rose, were covered in sediment to form underground pipes.Today, our trip is only 12km, but it’s a wild ride and follows a
strict hierarchy. The river, which changes character daily, tells the
guide what to do, and he then directs us: paddle forwards, paddle
backwards, paddle hard, stop, hold on and – in the big rapids – get
down. Sometimes all these instructions are fired in rapid succes-
sion. But you’re never doing one for more than five or so seconds,
and the rest is gentle drifting – both in and out of the raft, which
we sometimes exit involuntarily.B
EHANA GORGE, about 60km to the north-east, looks sim-
ilar to the one we just paddled through: steep cliffs, raging
water and a steamy atmosphere. But here a raft is useless- what we’ll be descending is like a giant staircase of water.
The gorge is a popular swimming spot for locals and Sam Day
has been coming here with his mates since they were teenagers.
Now he guides professionally through his Behana Canyoning
business and for the next few hours we treat it as our playground.
In wetsuit tops, life vests and helmets, we leap from ledges into
the river, swim against its current, use rocks as waterslides, scoot
through chutes and finally abseil down to get to Continued page 62
M
ARTY IS DEADLY serious as he
looks at us. “You will get wet,”
he says. The whitewater rafting guide
then breaks into a smile. “You will have
fun...and you will get wet.”
It’s only 9am and already the mercury
is pushing 35 ̊C. We’re in Tully Gorge
National Park, about 95km south-west
of Cairns in far north Queensland. Our
only cool relief will be from the river.
This straight but technically difficult Grade 4 rapid on the Tully River
is aptly known as the Corkscrew, but all seven rafts in our group make
it through the section without losing anyone overboard.