Continuing our theme of local military history, we headed for the Army Museum of North Queensland – only open Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, so it was now or never. Admission was free and the museum is entirely run by volunteers.  It was surprisingly good – well laid out displays with clear explanations, lots of personal stories, and artefacts from the Boer War right through to recent conflicts, all housed in part of the Jezzine Barracks.  I particularly liked the typewriters which dated from the early 1900s; the “trench art” made by soldiers who spent hours just waiting, and who fashioned vases, butter knives and ashtrays from bullet cases; and the rather splendid Honour Rolls.  The film “Hill 60” was made in Townsville, and they donated some of the sets to depict life in a trench and a tunnel, on the Western front in WW1.  Having been to Hill 60, that was also interesting.

Townsville has clearly spent a lot of money on public open spaces, with its esplanades, boardwalks, gardens, and artworks everywhere.  We followed a short trail west around the Jezzine hill, which had numerous examples of all of the above.

After a lunch break, it was time to explore a little further afield.  Rowes Bay and Pallarenda are the beaches which follow the curve of Cleveland Bay to its north western tip.  From there, we had lovely views back to Castle Hill.

Cape Pallarenda was where observation posts and gun emplacements were positioned to defend the bay.  We felt like Time Team members as we came across these concrete relics from the past.  You could clamber over and into each one, and gaze out to sea, just like the soldiers did – except that they were looking for signs of impending warfare, and we were just admiring the scenery (and the wll camouflaged wildlife).

The Battle of Pallarenda took place not back in the early 20^th century, but right here and now, on this very day.  We descended from the grassy slopes, onto the “Graves Circuit” – a trail which contoured gently along the hill, to the head of a long gully, from where it would switch back and return us to the parking area.  It was a pleasant walk – until we started down some rocky steps towards the dry creek.  “Slap!” A dead mosquito.  “Slap slap!” Another two, and a bloodied forearm.  “Swish!” went Ian’s hat against my bare legs.  More blood.  “Whack!” went my hand as I continuously swatted at the bloodthirsty little blighters.  They weren’t giving up without a fight.  They pursued us as we rounded the gully head and descended further, finally giving up the attack as we merged back onto the main trail closer to the coast, and the breeze.  I’m not sure who claimed victory. In war, there are no winners …