My experience in Australia’s ‘I’m a Celebrity…’ jungle
In Australia you’re never more than an hour’s drive from the wilderness, I thought, as I peeled a pair of engorged leeches off my bloody calf. The previous evening I’d been stuck on the motorway, with the high-rise hotels of Queensland’s Gold Coast in the rear view mirror; now I found myself all alone, deep in the bush, miles from civilisation, and being slowly eaten alive.
I was in Lamington National Park – part of what the tourist board calls the Gold Coast “hinterland”. The neighbouring Springbrook National Park is the filming location for I’m a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here! (the ITV series in which D-listers take part in “bushtucker trials” that usually involve eating, or being covered in, creepy crawlies), so I shouldn’t have been surprised by the leeches. The possibility of encountering snakes, however, had been of far greater concern.
I’d even sought reassurances from Michael O’Reilly, managing director of O’Reilly’s Rainforest Retreat, the century-old Queensland institution where I was staying. The retreat was established by his relative, Bernard O’Reilly, an expert bushman who found fame in 1937 following his daring and successful bid to reach the wreck of a Stinson plane and rescue its two surviving passengers. If anyone could offer valuable counsel, I surmised, it would be an O’Reilly.
What should I do, I asked, if I found myself face-to-fang with one of the venomous snakes for which Australia is renowned, or – heaven forbid – nibbled?
“If you’re bitten by an eastern brown, you might as well say your prayers,” came the reply, in that matter-of-fact Aussie drawl. “You’ll be dead in an hour – even sooner if you run for help, as the venom travels quicker through your bloodstream.” Ah.
He recounted tales of unlucky (and now expired) Queenslanders who’d found some errant limb attached to the business end of a brown, before educating me about the charms of the taipan, an even more venomous species prone to chasing poor souls when spooked and capable of delivering a dozen individual bites in the blink of an eye. His words were tempered with the usual platitudes about the generally timid nature of snakes, but with a trek into the bush ahead of me, where I’d be miles from rescue, only the phrase “say your prayers” stuck in the memory.
O’Reilly’s is an extraordinary collection of chalet-style villas on a plateau in the middle of subtropical rainforest on the Queensland/New South Wales border. Pademelons hop among the buildings, and bird life, including king parrots that occasionally land on your head, is ubiquitous. Not all of Australia’s wildlife is deadly.
It’s probably the most idyllic place I’ve ever spent the night. And all the more remarkable considering its proximity to those Gold Coast skyscrapers, and Brisbane – a city that no one could accuse of being aesthetically pleasing.
In little more than 30 miles, I’d gone from watching “schoolies” (the Aussie term for school leavers) run riot on the beaches, to a world of packed lunches, glow worm tours at dusk and bird walks at dawn.
On my first morning, I joined one of these ornithological sojourns. Unconvinced at first, I was soon rapt as Duncan Fowler, our wonderfully dry-humoured guide, pointed out a dizzying number of species. We spotted satin bowers, known for their elaborate nests which are decorated with objects such as shells, flowers, stones and pieces of discarded litter, colourful lorikeets, Lewin’s honeyeaters, spotted pardalotes, mistletoe flowerpeckers, and at least 20 other species, according to my notes, all within half an hour and without leaving the grounds of the retreat. By the end of the walk I was the only grown-up in a queue of children waiting to feed seeds to a tiny yellow robin by hand.
It all served to take my mind off my imminent solo trip into the wilderness, and the slithering critters that might lie within. I bolstered myself with a hearty breakfast – if this was to be my last meal, it ought to be a decent one – and bravely picked my route. More than 100 miles of trails can be accessed from the retreat’s doorstep. The one I’d chosen – the Box Forest Circuit – wouldn’t test the likes of Bernard O’Reilly, but at around seven miles in length, would take me well into the surrounding rainforest.
I tentatively stepped out, and soon hit my first hurdle. Raised by an arachnophobic grandmother, I now possess my own profound mistrust of spiders, and as cobweb after cobweb struck my face I realised I must have been the first to walk the narrow path that morning. Keen to avoid my own bushtucker trial, and showing remarkable enterprise, I fetched a decent-sized stick, and began swishing it before me as I went, like some demented practitioner of kendo. The effectiveness was only middling, and considering what a fool I would look should another hiker appear, I soon abandoned my weapon and soldiered on. I need not have worried – I wouldn’t see another soul until my return.
The route zigzagged down a vast gully towards Canungra Creek, one of several that criss-cross the park, past towering red cedars, booyongs and smothering strangler figs. The path is well marked, but being narrow, overgrown and steep in parts, walking it still felt like a proper adventure. In such glorious surroundings, my confidence grew – and my heart stopped leaping at the sight of every suspiciously serpentine tree root.
The sound of rushing water soon merged with the cacophony of birdsong. Some 160 bird species live here, and though my efforts to spot the elusive lyrebird, known for its remarkable tail feathers and ability to mimic other animals, were fruitless, I was able to recognise the calls of a few, thanks to my lesson with Duncan – from the catbird’s guttural feline shriek to the gentle coo of the wonga pigeon and the crack of the whipbird.
On the ground I spotted lizards – from timid little skinks to fat shiny land mullets – and then a pair of Lamington crayfish scurrying for cover, a sure sign that the foot of the gully, and the creek, was close.
I could barely contain myself when I reached the bottom to discover a series of waterfalls and crystal clear pools dappled in sunlight. “The most beautiful place I’ve ever been,” I hurriedly scrawled in my notes, in some fit of euphoria, before stripping down to my briefs and leaping into the water – like some poor man’s Indiana Jones.
This heavenly corner of Australia had turned me into a fearless adventurer in no time at all, and even the sight of those greedy leeches – stuck to my leg as I towelled myself dry – couldn’t deter me. Are those wimpy celebrities really so desperate to leave all this behind?
Getting there
The nearest airports are Brisbane and Coolangatta.
What to do
Lamington National Park
The Box Forest Circuit and the Morans Falls Lookout, ending atop a huge waterfall, are good options; or try the West Canungra Creek Circuit for a full day in the forest.
Springbrook National Park
To the east of Lamington lies Springbrook National Park, home to some impressive waterfalls, and the Natural Bridge rock formation, accessed via a number of walking paths.
Mount Tamborine
A favourite with weekenders from the coast, this little hilltop town has some decent restaurants, as well as wineries, plenty of shops selling fudge and souvenirs, and a handful of easy walks.
Where to stay
O’Reilly’s
This is by far the best place to stay in or around Lamington. It’s perfect for families, with a treetop walk, food and drink available on-site, and a range of activities on offer.
The Escarpment Retreat and Day Spa
A popular option for honeymooning couples on Mount Tamborine, set in four acres of landscaped gardens and with incredible views, cedar floors, hot tubs and canopy beds.