Welcome to the Tropic of Capricorn. There’s nothing tropical about it. At almost forty degrees smack bang in the middle of Spring, as the mercury starts to rise, I find it difficult to enthuse on the most voiced coined tourism phrase about Queensland: “Beautiful one day; perfect the next.” However, when there’s only been one “Tropical” downpour of less than a quarter of a centimetre in the last six months, I realise that one man’s perfect can be vastly different to another’s. Where the saltwater Crocodile is concerned, they are happy to call “CQ” home. Unfortunately this neighbour is a formiddable hypercarnivorous predator likes nothing better than leisurely basking in waters that I would happily drench myself in to escape the heat, so venturing near the river to dip my toes is something from which I refrain. But besides the opportunistic threat that apparantly lurks amongst the estuary reeds, there is another danger to my person, and this is the Box Jellyfish. Just when you have escaped the threat of Crocs, you pull on your cozzies to fall luxuriously into those perfectly temperate waves, only to see the sign that warns all tempted swimmers to be mindful of the tentacles of this bobbing danger. Since I am fearful of both pain and sudden cardiac arrest, I look at the tranquility of those waters with a new respect. It’s safe to say that I have neither swam in neither river nor ocean since journeying to this wild and primitive part of the lucky country which has become my new home. But although snakes may drop from the trees and Cane Toads lurk in the most unfortunate of places where I choose to plant my feet on balmy evenings when the sun goes down, I can at least be comforted by the modern decency of ceiling fans and air con. This is Central Queensland; Tropic of Capricorn. If you are of the faint hearted type, I suggest choosing another holiday destination.