Laura Aboriginal Dance Festival, Cape York

The striking animal forms, chants and motions of the Laura Aboriginal Dance Festival are as relevant now as they have been for tens of thousands of years. It’s only every two years, but here’s why you need to plan for the next one.

At the precise moment her uncle died, an owl perched itself on the back fence. It gazed through the house like an X-ray. Come dawn, it would fly away to wherever owls spend their sleepy days, returning to the same spot every single night. Nothing, it seems, would budge the owl. Not that Tamara Pearson wanted it to go. She knew what or, more precisely, who the owl was.

Tonight, Tamara is an owl. Not that owl; not exactly. She scratches sharply in the dusty earth, flutters in and out of feverish shadows that have a life of their own thanks to a palpitating light show.

Her freaky, folkloric get-up sentences the uninitiated pre-schooler to a childhood of night terrors. But the children of Cape York Peninsula’s Aboriginal communities who flock around the Laura Dance Festival circle tonight – way, way past their bedtimes – do not fear the owl. They know things; things that this white fella does not and most likely never will.

laura aboriginal dance festival cape york indigenous culture

Ready to dance: Braydan Hobson and Joaquin Woodley from Lockhart River (photo: Elise Hassey).

Tamara is principal for Cairns-based Sacred Creations Dance, four outback hours’ drive away. She’s not competing in the daytime inter-community challenges, but has the daunting task of providing night-time entertainment at one of the most important cultural events in Australia. Her deputies are an amalgam of her nieces and a mob of Laura town’s progeny “who’ve never really got the chance to dance at their own festival".

It’s almost impossible for an outsider to truly grasp the minutiae of Indigenous dance, culture and spirituality in a few days, but if you have the chance to do it anywhere, that chance will come at Laura’s festival.

Dust rises around Lockhart River’s Junior Dance Team (photo: Elise Hassey).

For a start, some things simply aren’t supposed to be seen or heard by the outsider. That’s the way it is and will always be. But mostly, the modern does not want to – or cannot – see the ancient; too entangled in unbending prisms of understanding strictly scientific notions of time, space and biology. If you can’t see past these rubrics, then you really have little chance of ‘getting it’.

“Obviously, the owl is very special for me," Tamara says, with her scary owl mask removed. She is connected to the Cape on both sides of her family; her ‘people’ from Hope Vale, just north of Cooktown. “It’s a sign to say that the people who have passed on are still with us. He/she is a very wise animal that holds the key to secret knowledge and holds an ancient culture within its wings. It’s the totem for some people too and helps us to remember to show respect to the caretakers of the land," she says. “Remember, our Dreaming stories are mythical, literally like a dream. We might not actually see it, but we truly believe it."

A young man from the Kalkadoon Sundowners, an off-Country troupe (photo: Elise Hassey).

And there it is, the epiphany; a lens with which to view the performances that unfold over the decades-old three-day festival, no matter the community, the flora, the fauna or the unseen being in focus. You see, each of the 20-something mobs who compete at Laura have their own stories, totems and, often, language; mostly distinct but also with profound harmonies, links and commonalities. For instance, while some revere the Rainbow Serpent as creator, others up this way have their own version, Mother Eel; guardian of waterholes, protector of people, yet equally a destructive force in the form of cyclones and monsoonal rains.

And that’s as good a place as any to start the story of the Laura Dance Festival.

Day 1: In search of Laura’s ‘the circle’

Thousands of pilgrims find their way to this isolated, intensely sacred patch of Western Yalanji territory, no more or less spiritual than the countries of the other mobs who jam into high-mileage bush-beasts and traverse immense distances to get here, over roads that would force city folk into a catatonic foetal position.

Ang-Gnarra Festival Grounds is not the kind of place you stumble upon by accident. If you’re heading north on the Peninsula Development Road you’re either on an expedition-of-a-lifetime to ‘The Tip’; visiting one of the Cape’s ‘micrommunities’; or you are hopelessly, despairingly lost. In which case, turn around and follow your bread crumbs home.

Tentative first steps: Wanyur Majay Yidinji performers from Yarrabah (photo: Elise Hassey).

Over an indistinct rise in the road with few unnatural reference points, I catch a glimpse of a hand-crafted sign and, further into the bush to my right, a group of four proud-postured women at a trestle table, who fuss over clipboards with names on them that mean something to someone. A beefy security guard with a princely smile combs my van’s nooks. His mission: keep this sacred festival as dry as the weather is supposed to be at this time of year.

The jerky bush track into the festival grounds gradually thickens into an avenue of tents. The shade of every tree is coveted and claimed; priceless real estate to the latecomer. Beside makeshift neighbourhoods, ochre-splattered LandCruisers take a much-earned breather. I sense ‘the circle’ before I lay eyes on it; an inexplicable vitality tugs at my sweaty t-shirt, as if to say “this way". I open the door to a didgeridoo’s boundless bass, which osmotically passes through my body via a thumping eardrum that’s somehow sneaked inside my ribcage.

Dark-barked eucalypts fringe the dance ground, supervising like elders; listening keenly, raising bushy eyebrows, inwardly impressed, but wearing that eternal khaki poker-face. The circle is everything at Laura: a bush stage; a meeting place where you bump into folks you haven’t seen since last time; a classroom; and a place to simply reflect, remember, recharge and relax.

The circle, equivalent to the centre of the world at Cape York’s Laura Dance Festival (photo: Elise Hassey).

Feathered heads bob up above the human layers that trace the circle’s exact circumference, 10-people deep in places; the front-row ‘bagsed’ by fixated early-risers with fully loaded camp chairs. An authoritative sandstone ridge stands up behind one side of it, the ancient sounds that project from a tribe of stacked amps swirl around the natural bush amphitheatre freely, unencumbered.

Mob after mob mill around the hessianed-off staging area, perfectly ripe to perform, loin cloths never more vivid, body clay in the form of hands, dots and strokes never more poignant. Kids don’t know which way to look: at each other, at Mum, at the ground, yet rarely directly into the outsider’s eyes for more than a fleeting moment.

A breathy, diaphragm-popping chant drifts from performance to performance: ‘ah-hee, ah-hee, ah-hee…’ an aural relay baton, passed along the Cape’s songlines through the ages. Clap sticks crack crisply; awakening nerve-endings yet to surrender. There is simply no sharper sound in all of nature.

Focus: one of Lockhart River’s youngest members readies herself for (photo: Elise Hassey).

The Aurukun Wik and Pormpuraaw communities will dance as one today, says the announcer; sorry business (someone has passed away), apparently. A sincere silence cascades over the bush, an acknowledgement of those who never made it, gifting the absent a presence.

“We come here with a heavy heart, but we’ll do our best to give a good performance." It’s not a good performance, it’s phenomenal, solemnly intense, regenerating and hopeful, exalted by the collective will of those who watch and perhaps those who don’t.

Eventually, I slither, jostle and bluff my way into a ringside seat, and sit cross-legged in the dirt. Next, a tender, apologetic tap on my left shoulder. Wordlessly, an unbearably cute baby girl lands in my hands. A series of head jerks tells me to pass her up the line. Five sets of surprised hands in the human conveyor later, she arrives at the rightful aunty. The purest of smiles replaces her ‘which-Wiggle-are-you?’ face.

In front of me, a young girl from Lockhart River, costumed in a two-toned grass skirt, white-clay dots and a single white head-feather, gently bounces between the swaying hips of two motherly dancers; a bums-on routine refresher.

Instead of demarcating young and old in competition like some of the communities do, all generations of Lockhart River perform as one. For them, this festival is not simply a display of culture but, crucially, a transfer of it too. In anticipation of the next-dance transition, the little girl stops swaying long before everyone else does, crouches intensely, bursts into a funky emu, then sprints off into the rest of her life.

A congratulatory embrace – dance has the power to bring communities together (photo: Elise Hassey).

The Injinoo Dancers pay homage to every single living thing in their realm, each with its purpose; life lessons and bushcraft shared with all. First, an accolade to the bearded lizard. Apparently when you see him on the road looking “a certain way", it means big rains are coming. Next, the long-tail pigeon dance and the yam dance; the young women dig with gusto while the guys encircle them for the spoils.

During the looking-for-shade dance, a lithe and imposing older woman in a fluoro-orange t-shirt, flowing skirt and with a fluff of grey hair rushes into the circle; dancing to the beat of her own internal soundtrack, an indistinguishable style from an indeterminate era.

She kicks off her sandals and strips off her t-shirt in a fluid transition. Bare chested, she faces the crowd, who receive broadcasts about her hopes and dreams for future romance. Victorious, she bounds back into the crowd without ever becoming part of it.

Aunty Mavis receives a deferential ovation. It won’t be the last time she’ll join in, officially and unofficially. Compere Sean Choolburra reckons Aunty Mavis is “deadly". The comedian reckons everything at Laura is deadly, judging by his liberal use of Indigenous Australia’s adjective of choice.

“You walk around meeting people and practically, in some way, everyone is connected," says the Townsville local with Cape York lineage. He’s graced the stage at Edinburgh Festival, and sees parallels between the festivals.

“We Aboriginals love laughter, you can see it in our songs and dances," he says. “We always sing about funny things and always have a bit of a laugh. Storytelling is pretty much the essence of stand-up comedy. So our 40,000 years of storytelling is practically stand-up comedy in a sense. It’s about delivering a conscious message in an entertaining, humorous fashion; styling up and showing off."

Unthreatening plump raindrops briefly plop into the soil but no one legs it for shelter. As darkness cloaks the Cape, the circle disperses, back to respective campfires, via the ‘merch’ stall, which is almost pecked bare, the kids eager for the latest in flammable deadly-ware to complement their footy shorts.

The almost natural echoes of bush bands gradually fade into the darkness. Children laugh cheeky and adventurous laughs, for a while, before the third round of “go-to-bloody-bed-wouldya" hits its mark. A faraway generator eventually rattles to nothingness. A pair of ‘ring-ring’ birds ping their rings back and forth until the placid fingers of wilderness close my eyes.

Day 2: This one goes out to…

“The rubber meets the road today," says the announcer, a left-field reference to this afternoon’s finals. The festival rises slower than a goanna on the Nullarbor. The same parents who were screaming at the kids to go to sleep now bellow even louder: “You mob better get ready now… or else."

family culture aboriginal dance laura dance festival cairns

Black cassowary plumes adorn the headdress of a Berlibal performer from Bamaga (photo: Elise Hassey).

“It took us 12 hours to drive here by car," says Bamaga dancer Lindsey Mudu. “We arrived yesterday morning and had to perform in the afternoon. I was exhausted but, boy, do I feel light right now!"

He looks anything but tired, as sprightly and athletic as anyone in North Queensland. Jet black cassowary feathers sprout out of his head and legs like magical desert grass. His chest-piece displays Bamaga’s intricate traditional designs, etched into lino salvaged from an old floor.

The prop-heavy costume sets Bamaga apart from the other mobs. Lindsey’s ancestors migrated to the mainland from Torres Strait last century, when their island home became too barren to exist on. Their dance style is overtly masculine, warrior-like; complete with bow and arrow and a giant white conch on occasions. The crowd gasps as they snap their necks back and forth like a bird of paradise in fight-or-flight mode.

“We started dancing together when we were little," says Lindsey. “This is our first time here, but you can’t tell, right? We just have to wait for the finals, but it doesn’t matter if we win, really. We still have to drive back 12 hours tomorrow."

The beneficent dust swirls up and hangs in the air in anticipation. And so, as the commentator reiterates, the rubber hits the road. The circle swells, as does the pressure on performers; not to win per se, but to tell your story to the best of your abilities. Mayi Wunba of Kuranda coax the audience to join in their eagle dance. “Now I can say I danced at Laura," says a buzzing onlooker, who thought his moment had already passed. Naturally, Aunty Mavis is up again. Elon Musk could do worse than to examine her battery pack.

‘Those fellas from the rainforest’, from Wujal Wujal, execute the old man dance: decisive, deliberate thumping steps laced with aeons of attitude to show respect to the elders “who taught us everything". One of the physically biggest dancers at Laura drops to the ground like a 16-year-old Olympic gymnast. The crowd concurs it is the best goanna they’ve seen in ages. Look out Greg Inglis.

The fledgling Mossman troupe become a snake, then strut their hunting abilities. There are no elders with them today, too old to travel or unable to get off work, but the next generation is already clearly confident in their culture.

The boys and girls of Kalkadoon Sundowners dance to both morning and evening stars, then to the kangaroo, and next to the men who collect sugarbag honey. They hail from near Mount Isa, way ‘off country’, well south-west of Cape York. Yet no one questions their right to be here. “We are one troupe, but many nations," says community representative Ronaldo Guivarra, in between wheezy post-performance pants.

“We are acknowledging the Stolen Generations. Laura is usually only for Cape York, but we decided to bring all the Kalkadoon kids along because of the link to Mapoon Aboriginal community: the first Aboriginal mission in Queensland. Lots of Queensland’s Indigenous people who were stolen were processed through Mapoon and taken to other missions," he continues. “So a lot of people here are from Mapoon; they intermarried and became landowners in other countries."

There’s a saying I hear more than once at Laura, which also seems to manifest in many of the dances too. There’s a few versions, but the gist goes: “Sometimes, when you go far away off country [whether forcibly or by choice], the mountains, your country, will bring you back."

Perhaps that’s why, every two years, so many travel so far to a tiny piece of earth that most Australians will never come close to. Not only to witness the collective colour and movement of the world’s oldest culture stir up the dust of their past, their present and their future. But also to interact with the owls, and things they might not exactly understand, which have found their way back, which will help the next generations move forward.

And may the dust never, ever settle on that.

Details: Laura Aboriginal Dance Festival, Cape York

Getting there: The Laura Aboriginal Dance Festival takes place at Ang-Gnarra Festival Grounds, 15 kilometres south of Laura town, 330 kilometres north of Cairns.

Playing there: A camping pass for the 2017 event was $150 (shared shower blocks).

Another way to be there: You can volunteer at Laura for free admission (transport not included). “This is a life-making experience," says Jo from Sydney. “It’s definitely worth cleaning backed-up toilets and finding lost children."

The next one: Laura is held in June every two years; the next one is in 2019.

Amenities: There are a couple of genuinely good coffee stalls and a surprisingly diverse range of food outlets serving everything from traditional dishes such as pig’s blood and rice to plenty of less-challenging standards like bacon and egg rolls.

The crowd: Over three days there were around 1000 performers, 23 communities, and 9000 spectators from as far afield as Chicago and Japan.

MORE… After Laura?

1. Tip to the trip: the classic Cape York road trip

2. Cape York the hard way: Cape York to Cairns by motorcycle – the long way

There is an abundance of enriching life experiences to be had at the northernmost point of Australia, starting with the community-owned Cape York Peninsula Lodge – part of an enterprise that proves travel can be used as a force for good.

With over 1000 kilometres between you and the closest town, Cape York Peninsula Lodge is as remote as it gets: wild brumbies graze on median strips, shy dugongs pop out at unexpected moments and giant crocs guard river crossings. It’s here, in the Northern Peninsula Area (NPA) on the northwestern coast of the Cape, where you’ll find five townships and two First Nations cultures woven together by time and necessity; the world’s first climate refugees left their saltwater inundated island of Saibai in the Torres Strait roughly eight decades ago. Now it’s the only place in the country where the merging of Australia’s traditional landowners and Torres Strait Islander cultures can be experienced on Country.

The wild and remote Cape York Peninsula. (Image: Tourism Tropical North Queensland)

There are three Aboriginal townships known as Injinoo, Umagico and New Mapoon, and two Torres Strait Islander townships named Seisia and Bamaga. The last is where I’ll be staying for the next three nights after forgoing the two-week drive and opting for the “cheat’s way” to Bamaga on a two-hour flight from Cairns to explore the final frontier of Tropical North Queensland.

The colours of Cape York. (Image: Katie Carlin)

First Impressions

I’m greeted by local elder Uncle Michael at the airport – his seriousness belies a cheeky sense of humour that slowly emerges over the next few days while touring Pajinka (formerly known as The Tip) under his careful guidance. My travel companions are mostly retirees in their seventies and eighties and we pile onto the 4×4 coach together.

The river-facing cabins at Cape York Peninsula Lodge offer gorgeous vistas throughout your stay. (Image: Tourism and Events Queensland)

Check-in is a smooth process and I spy some lovely handmade pieces in the reception souvenir shop – I make a mental note to come back for a proper look later. Zandra and Leah, two high school students participating in a six-month traineeship, walk me to my room, pointing out facilities and features as we go. It’s 4.5 stars and award-winning but the lodge’s luxury status is all about home comforts – finding such a haven in the centre of one of the most unforgiving climates in Australia sure feels like luxury.

Rooms

I am staying in one of the six self-contained studios that overlook Mosby Creek. If you would like to self-cater these are the rooms for you. The studio features a small, fully stocked kitchen with a stove, microwave, toaster, kettle, coffee-pod machine (you can pick up pods and groceries in the local IBIS Supermarket in town) and a fridge with freezer.

Inside the Cape York Peninsula Lodge suites

The suites at Cape York Peninsula Lodge offer home comforts in the outback.

There are different bed configurations available, but my studio has a queen-sized bed and a separate single bed which would be perfect for a family of three. There is a television, dining table and a generously sized bathroom with shower and basic toiletries supplied – and most important of all, it has a powerful air conditioner.

The ensuite bathrooms at Cape York Peninsula Logde

The ensuite bathrooms are generously sized.

The deck quickly becomes my favourite place to end the day; the heat starts to lose its edge and the humidity teeters off, frogs erupt into their nightly chorus, and the last glimpses of the rust-coloured creek disappear under a cloak of darkness. It’s the perfect place to sit and unpack the events of the day, with a cheese platter and a glass of vino in hand.

Cheese board at Cape York Peninsula Lodge

Order up a cheeseboard or build your own to enjoy on your deck of an evening.

Food and drink

Another area that Cape York Peninsula Lodge excels in is its onsite dining. With so much to choose from on the menu, I find it hard to drag myself away from the lodge (more on that below), but Bamaga and the surrounding townships all have a few inviting options to try.

Paperbark Restaurant

The lodge’s onsite Paperbark Restaurant runs dinner service from 5pm to 8pm, seven days per week (depending on the season). Chef Craig knows how to put together a knockout a la carte menu with a real fusion of cuisines.

One of the chef’s many delicious creations at Paperbark Restaurant. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Find Wagyu beef gyoza, char sui duck shanks and mac-and-cheese croquettes on the entrée menu with fettuccini marinara, kangaroo fillet, Wagyu beef burgers and coconut jackfruit stir fry making an appearance on the mains. You’ll want multiple nights here to eat your way through the full four-page menu. I also had some excellent wines at the fully licensed restaurant during my stay – including a Penfolds shiraz. Cocktails are also available.

Paperbark Restaurant is located beside the lodge reception overlooking the pool. (Image: Justin Meneguzzi)

The restaurant itself has a lovely atmosphere and an outside deck that overlooks the pool, for those who don’t mind the humidity. It is also open from 7am to 8.30am for your run-of-the-mill buffet breakfast – head up to the bar to order a coffee rather than using the self-serve jugs of coffee. Paperbark is closed during the day, but you can pre-order lunch the night before to have it delivered to your room or packed to take away for a day of exploring.

Bamaga Tavern

For a pub feed and a game of darts, head to Bamaga Tavern just down the street from the lodge. Expect to find your usual pub fare and a lively atmosphere. It also holds the title of Australia’s most northerly mainland pub.

The Bamaga Tavern is the place to go for an excellent pub feed. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Bamaga Bakery

Pick up freshly baked bread at the Bamaga Bakery from 7am daily or opt for one of the bakery treats – think good old fashioned cream buns, lamingtons, choc chip cookies and hedgehog slice.

Find all the classics at Bamaga Bakery. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Seisia Kiosk

If you’re in town for a few days, ring ahead and order one or more of the locally caught crayfish from the Seisia Kiosk. They also offer a takeaway menu of roast chicken, burgers, fish and chips, salad, oysters and prawns.

Find burgers, fish and chips and more at Seisia Kiosk. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Grocery stores

You can get fresh produce and groceries from the IBIS Supermarket and other supplies from the BP Bamaga Roadhouse and Mini Mart. The neighbouring townships of Seisia and Umagico also have supermarkets – but don’t expect to have the same access to fresh food as you do in the cities and regions; all food arrives by barge to the Cape, so variety is limited.

Facilities

The pool

You’ll find a lovely lodge pool right beside the onsite restaurant, it’s the perfect place to cool off at the end of the day. While the turquoise waters at the surrounding beaches look inviting, they are also inhabited by crocodiles, marine stingers, and deadly jellyfish, so swimming is not advised.

Take a dip in the hotel pool to beat the humidity.

Laundry facilities

Long hot days spent exploring the region means plenty of dirty washing and the lodge has a communal laundry room set up for guest services.

Internet access

Expect slow internet speeds and weak or no phone signal – especially if you’re not with Telstra. I didn’t have more than two bars of phone reception during my stay, and I couldn’t connect to the hotel wi-fi from my room. If you want to continue bingeing your favourite show of an evening, I recommend downloading them in advance. But the lack of connection is the perfect excuse to disconnect from the outside world. Plan to be unreachable and embrace the slower pace of life.

Tours and experiences

Cape York Peninsula Lodge offers two Indigenous-hosted return day trips for guests (or they offer vehicle hire if you prefer to explore independently) to explore Pajinka and Fruit Bat Falls.

Cape York Peninsula Lodge Indigenous-led tours

Cape York Peninsula Lodge runs two Indigenous-led tours. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Indigenous-led day trip to Pajinka

Adventurous travellers have been following the siren call to Australia’s jagged tip for generations and this cultural tour of Pajinka is easily the highlight of my time in Cape York.

Enjoy a picnic lunch packed by the lodge at Somerset Beach on your way to Pajinka. (Image: Katie Carlin)

The 45-minute drive through rugged rainforest is punctuated with stops at historical sites that include ruins, graves, WWII wreckages and the remains of Pajinka Resort – and a steady stream of stories from our Indigenous tour guides, Uncle Tommy and Uncle Michael.

Find remnants of WWII wreckages during the tour to Pajinka.

There are three routes that lead to the very tip of Australia, and all of them require varying degrees of ability to navigate. The first is a steep and slippery climb over a rock face – not such a great idea for my group of older travellers, even if Uncle Tommy fashioned them walking sticks from branches on the drive here.

Pajinka at low tide is the best route to the tip of Australia. (Image: Katie Carlin)

The second is walking the high side of the mangroves, and the third is walking along the beach at low tide. Our group take to the waterlogged sand past mangroves to the rocky outcrop we clamber over together.

Cape York Peninsula Lodge day trip to Pajinka

It will take about 20 minutes to get to the northernmost point of Australia. (Image: Katie Carlin)

It’s roughly 20 minutes before we reach our destination: a sign that reads, “You are standing at the northernmost point of the Australian continent”. It’s a dazzling scene here at the water’s edge: a smattering of green-capped islands, sunlight dances off the aquamarine waters, and I keep my eyes peeled for those elusive dugongs that are known to appear without warning in these parts.

Pajinka - The Tip of Australia at Cape York

This sign indicates you’ve reached the northernmost point of Australia. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Indigenous-led day trip to Fruit Bat Falls

I can guarantee you’ve seen photos of Fruit Bat Falls: lush cascades roll over a wing-shaped rocky ledge into pools of crystal-clear emerald, green water. But the journey to get here is as thrilling as a dip in this remote waterhole.

A day trip to the pristine waterhole of Fruit Bat Falls. (Image: Katie Carlin)

This return day trip tour takes us across the mighty Jardine River onboard a ferry (a barge that pulls cars across via a chain pulley system) and onto the red dirt road that connects to part of the Old Telegraph Track until we reach the bush trail to the falls.

Crossing the mighty Jardine River. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Find toilet facilities and the ferry station on the other side of the Jardine River. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Sit under the falls and let the day tick away. This place is an unspoilt haven. The tour includes a picnic lunch as well as additional stops along the way to Mutee Heads, Umajico and Injinoo.

Let time tick away as you relax under the falls. (Image: Tourism Tropical North Queensland)

Cultural performance space

On my final night at the lodge, I am treated to a cultural performance by the award-winning Torres Strait Islander dance troupe Naygayiw Gigi. The interactive performance tells the story of how their people came to settle in the NPA with educational elements of history, language and culture woven in to convey the importance of storytelling through dance and the significance of costumes, props and musical instruments. The stage is set up alongside the hotel pool and performed underneath the night sky with strings of fairy lights creating a magical atmosphere.

Naygayiw Gigi at Cape York Peninsula Lodge

Cape York Peninsula Lodge hosts a cultural performance by Naygayiw Gigi. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Back story – why stay here?

Cape York Peninsula Lodge is part of Bamaga Enterprises Limited, a not-for-profit, Indigenous, community-owned company. The profits of all the businesses – including the lodge, Bamaga Tavern and BP Bamaga Roadhouse – are fully reinvested back into the Indigenous community through community development projects, education, healthcare and infrastructure initiatives. Staying here not only gives you a deeper understanding of our First Nations cultures, but it also ensures your dollar goes back into the community; regenerative travel at its best.

Details

Staying there

Accommodation options at Cape York Peninsula Lodge range from standard rooms (from $275 per night), deluxe rooms (from $330 per night), executive cabins (from $370 per night), self-contained studios (from $400 per night) and the suites with separate lounge area ($400 per night).

Playing there

The day trips to Pajinka and Fruit Bat Falls in an air-conditioned 4×4 coach cost $300 per person for each tour. There is a two-passenger minimum, and the tour includes a packed lunch prepared in advance by the chef of Paperbark Restaurant. The cultural performance by Naygayiw Gigi is hosted by the lodge and is dependent on the performers’ tour dates. Contact Cape York Peninsula Lodge to find out more.

Spend the day relaxing at Fruit Bat Falls. (Image: Katie Carlin)

Getting there

Skytrans flies to Bamaga Airport (ABM) from Cairns. Airport transfers are available. The lodge is only a 10-minute drive from the airport. Car hire is also available through the lodge for a fee. Hire costs start at $205 per day for a 2WD to $350 per day for a LandCruiser.

People walking to the northernmost tip of Australia in Cape York

Adventure lovers are drawn to the northernmost tip of Australia in Pajinka. (Image: Tourism Tropical North Queensland)

Indigenous dance: Laura Aboriginal Dance Festival