The Wilderness of Bustard Head

Secluded sandy beaches await rare visitors.

Paddle along any river, lake, or meandering stream and you’re sure to see great scenery and perhaps some interesting wildlife. And with a dash of luck you might find an idyllic place to camp, or a secluded beach or a cave to explore. But at Bustard Head, near the Queensland town with the curious name of ‘1770’, there is a sub-tropical wilderness that has all of nature’s most glorious characteristics.

Explorer Captain James Cook, taking his first steps on the soil of what is now the state of Queensland, was the first European to explore an area that, in many respects, has seen little change since his arrival in 1770—the year that is now commemorated by the town’s unusual name.

With its vast forested national parks populated by kangaroos, dingoes and emus, and with access to both the calm waters of a wide creek and the wild Pacific Ocean, the region is a haven for bird life. And with dolphins, gigantic turtles, stingrays and large shoals of other fish easily spotted from a kayak or canoe, there can be few more stunning destinations for a paddler with an appreciation of the natural world.

Although Bustard Head—a forested outcrop of land that at high tide becomes an island—is only 12 nautical miles from the town of 1770, it seems a million miles from human existence. There is no access by road, and access from the sea is hazardous due to treacherous tides and sandbars. With only one tour operator in the area, a paddler is almost guaranteed to be the region’s sole human visitor.

Although it may resemble paradise, this place has hidden demons. Sharks may lurk in the inviting waters of Jenny Lind Creek that wraps itself around the headland. Venomous stone fish may be camouflaged among fringing rocks, and strong tides may attempt to drag unwary paddlers out to sea. But the welcoming green and gold complexion of this vast wilderness where forests, waterways, beaches, and ocean merge, ensures that thoughts of danger are fleeting.

View from the top of the headland, showing inner and outer paddling options.

Birds congest the forested headland and the tangled mass of low shrubs that cower before the ocean’s winds on Bustard Head’s eastern face. Beyond, a steep trail slices across windswept grasslands freckled with golden daisies. Forests sprawl up to the summit to envelop the 19th century lighthouse and graves of those whose lives were claimed by this rugged wilderness.

Patience may be required to see the birds of the forest, but the inhabitants of Jenny Lind Creek are less reluctant to show themselves. Large shoals of fish rush through water so clear that on a still day it seems you are skimming across the surface of some great aquarium. Striped fish, silver fish, sting rays that fly through the water like graceful airborne kites, gigantic turtles in their flowing robes of green algae, and sedentary sea cucumbers are all conspicuous residents of the wide and winding waterway fringed with mangroves.

Sheltered by the headland, the creek is a place of silence, where curlews probe exposed sandbars for tiny crustaceans, sea eagles soar overhead, cormorants dive, and egrets, crested terns, red-capped plovers and oystercatchers march through the shallows as swarms of blue soldier crabs scurry for safety.

The headland can be circumnavigated by paddling up the creek, through a narrow, almost hidden channel slicing through the mangrove forest, into a wide bay, and out to the ocean side of the headland to the wild side of Bustard Head. Here the ocean roars into eroded caves and secluded sandy bays huddled among boulders decorated with pandanus palms, and it threatens to claim any inexperienced paddler as the victim of another “shipwreck” to add to those she has already claimed.

Struggling to negotiate the maze of rocks and wild seas, we finally paddle through the estuary to the tranquility of the creek and return to our campsite. Meanwhile, dolphins dance among white ripples on the sapphire ocean; terns sway to the hypnotic rhythm of waves; and pelicans drift silently past.

Here, wild water and calm, an abundance of wildlife, stunning scenery, and a hefty serving of solitude all combine to create a great paddling opportunity which is just waiting for your personal discovery.

© Stephanie Jackson is a freelance journalist and travel writer, and a regular contributor to several Australian publications. Take a tour of her photographs at www.photographsofaustralia.com.