-- English --

I am having a rather difficult time describing my fascination with the Daintree. Is it the weather? Can't be, because what did I expect when I signed up for several weeks in the rainforest? It is raining here a lot. And not that cosy, warm summer drizzle that you get in some of the northern countries. When it rains, it pours. And it is loud. Meters of water crashing down onto the bristling leaves of the densely packed canopy of the all-surrounding jungle drown out all the other sounds. You can't hear animals, each other or even your own thoughts. All that is left is watching the rain soaking the fertile grounds and listening in amazement.

So, is it because of the animals? Not sure. During the day it almost seems as if the jungle is empty, because apart from the bush chicken, you barely see anything through the thicket of hundred-year-old trees, thorny bushes, ancient ferns and all kinds of vines, that doesn't even allow sunlight to touch the floor. At night, though, you suddenly realize that it is full of creatures, whose cries and calls are so loud sometimes that they wake you up in the middle of the night. But as soon as you try to find them, they blend in with their environment so well, that every glimpse is pure luck. Particularly, when the majestic Cassowary bird, one of the closest links to the dinosaurs, graciously grants you a peak into his daily routine, you finally feel as if the jungle has accepted you as a member.

So, it must be the nature then, right? Well, can't be the beaches, because as regular travelling grounds for the local crocodiles, no soul dares to swim in their shallow waters. Which leaves the occasional tourist to stare at the smooth surfaces of those seemingly empty waters, just glittering silver in the rare morning sun, while walking on the soft white sand. And when you turn around and look back at the edge of the jungle you feel like you just arrived on a lost tropical island. Now the creeks and waterholes then? Unfortunately, they too are croc-infested and only the long-term residents know the secret spots where swimming doesn't end with you missing a limb. But if you're lucky enough to find one of them which isn't also a sacred aboriginal site, the joy of diving into the cool, crystal-clear waters filled with tiny fish is even bigger. And what about the plants, the masses of green and brown, that harbour so many species, that scientist are still working on cataloguing all of them? They are all part of this ecosystem and with every step into the jungle you will notice that you are not more than a tolerated intruder. Because as tasty some of those berries and fruit seem, don't eat them, they are poisonous, and as smooth some of those leaves look like, don't touch them, they leave you with stinging pain for months to come, and watch where you go so you don't step into an ant-nest, walk into a spider-wed or grab into a wasp-colony. But if you careful and pay respect, the jungle will reward you with the idea of how it would be to be one with nature.