Mount Tambourine Queensland

Tamborine Rainforest Skywalk located on Tamborine Mountain is an innovative way to view this spectacular environment. Visitors depart from the Eco Info Gallery, which offers comprehensive local flora and fauna interpretive panels & displays and a fresh water aquarium, to begin an adventure on a spectacular elevated walkway, high above the ground in the beautiful rainforest canopy.

Descending gradually to the densely vegetated rainforest floor beside the creek, the walk follows points of interest including rockpools, a butterfly lookout, local history enclosure and sheltered rest areas along the way until reaching the amazing Cantilever.

Visitors return to the Centre which has a cafe serving light refreshments, gift shop with quality merchandise, toilet facilities (including accessible facilities), and bus/car parking areas. The walk takes approximately 50 minutes and is suitable for all ages.

The Skywalk is open 7 days from 9:30am with final walks at 4pm (closing at 5pm) and entry prices are Adults $19.50, Children $9.50, Family $44.00 (2 adults & 1 children), Extra Child $5.00 and Senior/Student Card Holders $16.50.


The start of the tree walk..over the sway bridge, then along a track to the creek and back again.


Beautiful palms..this is the chandelier palm which inspired the crystal lights at Government House.

The walk departs directly from the Eco Gallery with a comprehensive array of Australian rainforest flora and fauna displays.

The walk takes approximately 45 minutes at a leisurely pace, when pausing to view the many points of interest and information along the way.

The entire walk totals 1.5 kms and is a combination of forest floor trails, 300 metres of high-tech steel bridges through the highest points of the upper canopy, and a 40 metre cantilever bridge that soars a breathtaking 30 metres above the creek and rainforest below.

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Looking down from the sway bridge


There is a lot to see and do at Tambourine Mountain.

We had almost a day…after the Sky walk we walked the township and had lunch at a delightful restaurant near the Roundabout.

We did look through the Cuckoo Clocks..a fabulous collection and display of many many clocks

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Outback Spectacular Gold Coast Australia


We collected at the Bar and waited for the doors to open to experience a backstage tour before the show started.

We were to somehow miss the backstage tour….which was disappointing as we had come early to make sure we did not miss it. A young man took us to join the tour at the end and we saw the last few moments. Disappointing.

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The meal was great..Pumpkin soup, steak and vegetables and apple pie


It was a pleasant drive back to Surfers where we were staying. The show was 2 hours 7-9.30 PM.

Surfers Paradise Gold Coast

The weather was perfect. Booked in to Chateau which is right opposite the Surf Beach. This is the view from level 6…

View from Chateau Surfers Paradise

Lunch was fish and chips shared with a host of Pacific Gulls giving me a great photo shoot as I tossed chips into the air.



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Then we walked the beach…it was beautiful…

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Living in a Caravan Park in a small Fishing village

Living in a Caravan Park in a small Fishing village


You are indeed blessed to be living in an Upper class suburb, on a property with no neighbours, and enjoy holidays and vacations traveling overseas or staying at your own holiday house.

To me, of such a background, Caravan Parks were places I did not hear about, and when I saw the caravans parked at Beach resorts, I pitied the people living so close to their neighbours, and coping with noises, drunks, loud music and people living on top of each other.

I shrugged elegantly as I drove on to my Holiday house, amazed that people actually live in tents and caravans with their kids and dogs and neighbours.

I never gave Trailer parks another thought for the last 60 years of my life. They were places that ‘other people’ went to, and that was fine for them.

Yes, you could say there was some snobbery here. But more than snobbery, it was a total ignorance of how other people actually live.

Then last year circumstances were that I was homeless, and without money to pay a deposit on a house, or apartment. And also wanting something temporary while I searched my options, I was led to a caravan Park. It looked fine. It was by the beach, or walking distance from one, and the cost of a site was $89.00, affordable, and there was only me in my life, so I bought a campervan, and took a 6 week permanent lease, with an option to stay longer if I chose.

An obliging older gentleman helped me set up. He called some of the neighbours who were looking at who I was and what I was bringing to their life style, and three guys helped set up my annex with tent pegs and brought along a barbecue and their own individual serves of meat and bread and stayed for a real Australian ‘piss-up’. Many bottles of beer were drowned and the wives joined in with loud voices, and we managed to disrupt the quieter neighbours, who I had to apologise to, and assure them that this was not going to be a regular event, just a one off as they helped me set up.

I started my life as an itinerant living in the van, lying around all day reading or on the computer, walking the beach and when it was dark, closing the curtains best as I could and lying there wondering if this would suit me for the rest of my life. Having the annex as a fixture, meant I lost my wheels, and I was now confined to the Caravan Park, with only walking my outlet. In the night, when I tried to read, a very sleazy, beer -bellied .middle aged man would peer in through the windows as he ostentatiously went to the toilet many times a night I also realised other people could also share my life with me. It was like living in a goldfish bowl. The sun beat in relentlessly and I was now very hot in the afternoons. I bought a bamboo blind that I hung over the back door, leaving it open for the breeze, and the mosquitoes, and really it was not working too well.

Then the Caravan park owner offered me a unit. That was going to cost $160.00, but with the Centrelink subsidy, it came down to $110.00 a week, and after what I was going through, this seemed like heaven.

I moved into a very tiny one roomed unit with curtains, toilet, a stove, fridge, bed and a table. I thought it was wonderful after the small van. I happily dug a small garden and collected shells and rocks to decorate the area. Then the neighbours from hell returned from wherever they had been, and suddenly there was a huge red faced truck driver, with an even bigger beer gut than the window pervert, telling me the area between our buildings was his, and that I was encroaching on his section, and also using ‘his’ hose to water the garden. Actually whilst they were away, I had also watered their dying garden, and was expecting thanks not complaints. I was petrified of him, and he could see it, and it did make him feel good.

His next complaint was that I was driving over his front lawn. My area was the size of my vehicle, and how I was expected to drive into it without driving on some of their land was a problem. The Caravan park told me to just drive in, but every time I went anywhere and returned, they were there with their beer stubbies, and some of the neighbours, and every time, he would yell at me for driving too close to them. Once when I was trying to go out, I got into a panic, and put my foot down too hard, and the exhaust blew right into his face. I made sure I was out of hearing before I laughed and laughed.

When he went driving, the lady would sit alone and drink until she was paralytic. On numerous occasions, she would then fall down somewhere, and a neighbour would ring an ambulance for her. Her fat mate told me not to get involved when I asked if I should help her. The lady on the other side had a phone and that is where she would stumble to prove to her man that she just could not live without him. Every night, they would sit and drink and talk loudly like drunks do. I learnt to shut my ears to what was going on, but I was very unhappy.

Then a man on his own moved in and started talking to me on the beach when he was fishing. It was nice having someone just talk to me. Then this much older than him bottle dyed blonde moved in, and she was his ex-wife’s mother. She wore clothes with the midriff showing, and looked like something out of Kings Cross, and she did not like him talking to me. Next thing, the fat lady comes to tell me that my new friend had been discussing me in a not very nice way, and the story was that when asked if he fancied me, he replied, yes, with a bag over my head.

I was mortified, as now this was the latest Trailer trash talk, and I shrunk even further into myself and tried to stay hidden.

The gardener took pity on me, as really I was way out of depth here, and when a unit at the other end of the park became vacant, he said I should move there, and he would help me shift, and that is what happened.

I was told by the drunks that this is where the druggies were, and that I would regret it, but anything was better than what I was now handling.

To my delight, the unit was quite large. It is equivalent to 3 bedrooms on one side, and also had a kitchen and dining area. There was a bedroom with a double bed, a shower, bathroom and toilet and it was entirely lined with cupboards. I actually for the first time in my life had more cupboards than I could fill. Happily I made it my home. I bought a brand new washing machine, so I would not have to meet with the drunks in the Communal Laundry, and also purchased a lovely carpet with huge daisies on it, and ordered some silk drapes to shield me from the pervert, who started visiting the man next door until he found, there was nothing he could peer through anymore. I made the unit ‘perve proof’.

I started a garden, transplanted all my herbs and seeds from the other unit, and bought many pots, hanging baskets, creepers, flowers and orchids. I paved it, brought huge rocks from a property, and had a birdbath and many hanging baskets. I even covered it with 100 proof shade-cloth, for privacy as well as shade form the hot sun. I lived quietly here, the only issue was a neighbour who did not want me to drive over his grass, but I handled that by parking in the front and I stayed unobtrusively making sure I was polite to people, but not wanting to get too friendly or into their lives. I don’t gossip, I don’t play loud music, I don’t drink or smoke, and I lived here quite happily.

I may have been happy, but those who lived around me still gossiped about me. I did not know this. When I told them I was driving to Normanton for work, and then came back and left for China, the scene changed. I was now seen as not one of the group. That should have been obvious from the beginning, but it wasn’t. The Frog pond hierarchy that had the largest privately owned unit as top of the frog pile suddenly could not cope with a professor. How does one slot in someone like me? They managed with the artist bit, because that gave them eccentricity as a loophole, but suddenly I am way out of everyone’s class, and the noses were out of joint. I also did not drink or smoke. Had no wild men visiting me, and led a very quiet life mostly on the computer or reading.

I did not realise how different I was until I went to China. Then the masses stampeded my unit, and cleared out every plant, seed, pot and rock I had there. Not only did they take my entire garden, but Queen Bee also took it on herself to share what she didn’t want with others in the caravan park. I came back to a unit full of debris, dead leaves, fallen down branches, and also the neighbours trash neatly swept onto my place. I cleaned that all up. There were 5 huge green bins full of rubbish. The owner’s son helped me and it all was swept away. Then the rains came, and the neighbour from hell started digging ditches that drained the entire caravan Park’s water into my place, which now looks like a swamp. I complained, but he dug the ditches deeper. I gave up, and stopped going into the back garden, leaving him to it.

Now I am again a recluse hiding in the sanctity of my unit, the curtains drawn against the peepers, the smokers who like to peer while they smoke, and my life is the keyboard and the computer. When it is dark, I pack up the lighted areas, and retire to the bedroom to read. All my belongings are in storage, except for my beloved washing machine, which I got right out, the computer and the guitar.

There is only a few weeks left before I return to China. Then I will and never live in a Trailer Park ever again, unless I absolutely have to.

Marguerite Carstairs 2011

Memories are Unforgettable

Music sends layers of memory pouring out like a sideshow reliving a past

When I hear the song ‘Unforgettable’ a past pours over me, and I am taken back and forward, and back and around, with the replays of the video, to the replays of my mind; and the past returns to make me smile with the delight of memory, and the joy of being in love and loved.

The love may have receded like his hairline, but the memory of the everlasting love lingers, and brings the smile back to my face over the distance of the years. The potent combination of music, voice and image, will always have the power to harness the past to the present and the now, and lines such as ‘Darling, it is so incredible that someone so unforgettable, thinks that I am unforgettable too.” still make me feel special and bleat with nostalgia.

The memory of being young, beautiful in someone’s eyes, and unconditionally loved, is so romantic. It is death that freezes the love, and keeps it alive and never retired. In my eyes, he never got old, and I always stayed ‘unforgettable’.

The opposite end is ‘Ain’t she Ugly..’ which when played, stunned and embarrassed me. Frank Traynor was my piano teacher and friend, and I loved him and his music. One evening, I walked into the club, and as I walked in one of the band introduced the song by dedicating it to me. Instead of being delighted and going along with the joke, I felt very insecure and ashamed to be called ‘ugly’ in front of all those people. I simply cried. Frank was mortified…they had never meant to hurt me, just thought it was a joke…The feeling again comes over me when I hear that song, and I cringe inside and feel waves of unhappiness and sadness.

Music is the most powerful of sense awakening, and that is why old favorites stay old favorites with many people. Its not the music, its the feeling the music evokes. We remember the excitement of rock and roll. The full skirts that spun as we spun, the fast pace and the happiness that went with the dancing. One cannot rock and roll without enjoying it. It was such fun music, and it brings back the memory of dancing all night, of pretty clothes and luminous socks and weird tight pants. Same with Jazz…the jazz clubs, the fast dancing, the Charleston and the boogie woogie. The young people swaying or shaking to music in a smoky disco never experienced the thrill of the fast dance and the exuberance of the musical rhythm and beat. I also love country dancing with the smell of hay, and the wild violins and the Tea Chest Bass and washboard.

Then the sense of smell.….cookies cooking, a roast dinner, barbecued meat on a hot summer evening. Chlorine in the home pool, and pine trees and pine smoke from burnouts. I remember the smell of sunburnt skin soaked in coconut oil for a richer tan, of sweaty exertion after winning squash or jogging for miles, and the heady scent of brewed beer and Chanel number 5. The salty scent of the sea as we sailed close to the water on small catamarans, and the summer rain after the drought. I also dream when I savor the spicy aromas of gluwine after a day skiing, and freshly washed hair, and linen dried in the sunny wind. The scent that had me reeling recently was dead sheep. Rob always came to me still smelling of the dead sheep he had shorn, and the pungent smell of rotting wildlife and wet wool brings memories that are almost hypnotic in the powerful blast of past. I had forgotten about that till memory hit me so hard that I whimpered in pain.

Do we remember touch? I touched a face and remembered the softness of my son and child, as he lay in my arms. A young boy hugged me, and I felt the strong young body in my arms, and felt the loss that this was something special that will never be mine again. I remember the willowy softness of my daughter as she held me, and the harsh feel of being hit by a hose in anger one summer. The softness of a feather bed, and the luxury of falling onto 6 feather doonas in crisp white linen sheets. The cold hardness of the fancy wrought iron seats at Rome Airport, where I spent an agonizing night trying to stay awake for the dawn flight, and the biting cold of riding pillion on Andre’s bike with my face touched by icy winds, my eyes streaming in the cold, and my heart screaming with delight.

Yes, I remember the cold of the metallic evening dress that never warmed, and the fluffy caress of snowflakes falling on my lips and tongue when walking in the snow. The touch of a child’s hand in mine, and the soft dog’s tongue licking the salt of my legs and feet while I complained, and the rougher scraping of my cat’s tongue as she washed my hand, and then the sleekness of the oil that poured between my legs in summer.

Sight brings memories with the rising of the moon. Tonight the orange moon rose from the trees, and I remembered the moon rising over the sea and sunsets. Moonlight guiding the way on army bivouacs, and moonlit waters over the sea. Once I saw a blue moon, as I stood on the rooftop of my house in St Kilda, and flickering flames rising from campfires send me back to summer campsites, singalongs and toasted marshmallows by the sea, when we slept the night on the beach curled in the sand, and woke to crusty bread and hard boiled eggs for breakfast. I see the laughing eyes of my son and his trusting look as he believed everything he was told. I see the hurt when he was told the truth, and the pride when the task was done. These sights are indelible, and will always stay. We do not need our eyes to see what we can see within the heart. The memories are there when sometimes you have time to stop and stare at what was then and now and always. The soft smile of my grandson will always warm my heart and I hold this greedily to my heart.

Unforgettable…so many things in our lives. We fold them away like files, and then something clicks a key, and the memory opens and we live them yet again.

Forget the bad. Throw it out. Why waste storage time on pain. Keep the joyful and the happy for those times you need them, and they will always come to make you smile again. Treasure the wealth of your mind.

What are the memory triggers that send you off into your own world of dreams?
We all have unforgettable memories and keys that open every door.

Maggi Carstairs 2008



Rainbow Lorrikeets in the White Gum Trees at Russell Island






  • active, noisy, belligerent, conspicuous
  • strongly gregarious; usually travel in parties of a few dozen; much larger flocks congregate where there are is plenty of food
  • brush tipped tongue – adaptation for feeding on pollen and nectar
    use powder downs – special down feathers with the tip constantly breaking down to form a waxy powder that the bird spreads through the plumage during preening
  • bathe by fluttering among foliage soaked by due or rain


  • pollen is a rich source of protein; major component of the diet
  • nectar, blossoms mainly from Myrtaceae, Proteacea, Xanthoroaceae
  • fruits, berries, seeds, occasionally insects (beetles, wasps, thrips, ants, weevils) and larvae (fly maggots, weevil larvae, moth larvae)
  • also apples, pears, mangos – can cause damage to orchards
  • also maize and sorghum crops where they feed on the unripe ‘milky’ grain



  • extract nectar with their brush-tipped tongue after first crushing the flowers with their bill; tiny hair-like projections (papillae) on the end of the tongue are extended while feeding to soak up nectar and gather pollen from blossoms
  • use open bill in sideways brushes up and down the sides of spiked flowers like Xanthorrhoea, Banksia, Melaleuca, Callistemon; this collects pollen and nectar droplets on the edge of their bills
  • place open bill over a blossom and project their tongue into the receptacles to get at the nectar then comb their bill across the stamens to collect pollen
  • for hard fruits of rainforest trees, they grate the fruit on the inside of their open bill
  • extract seeds from sheoak cones and pieces by using the tip of the upper mandible to ease the winged seed from the dehiscing cone
    sweet, fleshy fruits are removed from seed by rolling it with their tongue against the plates inside the upper mandible
  • chew green Eucalyptus flower and leaf buds



  • very fast with rapid wingbeats
  • fly high when travelling long distances; on short flights manoeuvre between trees
  • establish flight paths from the roosting sites that are followed daily; these paths tend to follow geographic features like the coastline or a line of hills, valleys, rivers








Originally posted on Birds Australia:


A rosella is one of five to eight species of colourful Australianparrots in the genus Platycercus. Platycercus means “broad-tailed” or “flat-tailed”, reflecting a feature common to the rosellas and other members of the broad-tailed parrot tribe. Their diet is mainly seeds and fruit


Rosellas feed predominantly on seeds and fruit, with food held in the foot. They enjoy bathing in puddles of water in the wild and in captivity.[4] Rosellas scratch their heads with the foot behind the wing.[4]

Mutual preening is not exhibited by the genus, and the courtship display is simple; the male waves his tail sideways, and engages in some head bobbing, and the female reciprocates.[3]

Like most parrots, they are cavity nesters, generally nesting high in older large trees in forested areas. They generally have a clutch size of several eggs which are incubated for around 21 days by the…

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Kookaburras at Russell Island


Kookaburras (genus Dacelo) are terrestrial tree kingfishers native to Australia and New Guinea, which grow to between 28–42 cm (11–17 in) in length. The name is a loanword from Wiradjuri guuguubarra, onomatopoeic of its call.

Kookaburras are carnivorous. Kookaburras are known to eat the young of other birds, mice, snakes, insects and small reptiles.

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The Laughing Kookaburra is not really laughing when it makes its familiar call. The cackle of the Laughing Kookaburra is actually a territorial call to warn other birds to stay away.


The chuckling voice that gives this species its name is a common and familiar sound throughout the bird’s range. The loud ‘koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-kaa-kaa-kaa’ is often sung in a chorus with other individuals. The Laughing Kookaburra also has a shorter ‘koooa
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Sunset on Russell Island…Own an original Product



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Curlews in my Garden



The bush stone-curlew or bush thick-knee (Burhinus grallarius, obsolete name Burhinus magnirostris) is a large (55–60 cm wingspan),[2] ground-dwelling bird endemic to Australia. Although it looks rather like a wader and is related to the oystercatchers, avocets and plovers, it is a terrestrial predator


The bush stone-curlew or bush thick-knee (Burhinus grallarius, obsolete name Burhinus magnirostris) is a large (55–60 cm wingspan),[2] ground-dwelling bird endemic to Australia. Although it looks rather like a wader and is related to the oystercatchers, avocets and plovers



Like most stone-curlews, it is mainly nocturnal and specialises in hunting small grassland animals: frogs, spiders, insects, molluscs, crustaceans, snakes, lizards and small mammals are all taken, mostly gleaned or probed from soft soil or rotting wood; also a few seeds or tubers, particularly in drought years. Birds usually forage individually or in pairs over a large home range, particularly on moonlit nights

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During the day, bush stone-curlews tend to remain inactive, sheltering amongst tall grass or low shrubs and relying on their cryptic plumage to protect them from predators. When disturbed, they freeze motionless, often in odd-looking postures. For visual predators like raptors (and humans), this works well, but it serves little purpose with animals that hunt by scent such as foxes, dingoes or goannas

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The bush Stone-curlew is probably heard more than it is seen. Its call sounds like a wail or a scream in the night. When scared, it screeches – a sound similar to the screech of a possum.[3] When threatened (presumably in the presence of a nest), they may raise their wings wide and high in an impressive threat posture and emit a loud, hoarse hissing noise

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Despite their ungainly appearance and habit of freezing motionless, they are sure-footed, fast and agile on the ground, and although they seldom fly during daylight hours, they are far from clumsy in the air; flight is rapid and direct on long, broad wings.

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