Fig tree adventures – a ride with Mandy

The morning sun shimmered off the chrome as Mandy fired up her Honda CMX 500, me the Honda XL750 Transalp.  The engines purring with confidence, the weather playing the game and really needed to have a ride. I gave her a grin under my helmet—she rode that bike like it was an extension of herself. We pulled onto the Gillies Highway, its winding curves and dense rainforest making it one of the most stunning rides in Queensland.

The air was cool up in the hills and the road twisted like a ribbon through the green. Mandy led most of the way, her lines smooth, her pace steady. We stopped briefly at Heales Lookout, soaking in the view and the scent of wet earth and eucalyptus.

By late morning, we rolled into Malanda. The park was quiet—just birdsong and the occasional rustle of wind. Mandy pulled out her phone and earbuds; the park bench was her classroom for the day. An animated conversation followed with her tutor, Anthony, calling in from Lima. Her fluency and focus on learning always amaze me.

Lesson complete, we saddled up and headed for Atherton, stopping at the Whistle Stop Café. The place was nothing fancy—tables on the street and inside, a chalkboard menu—but the breakfast was hearty and the coffee hit the spot. We laughed about the twisties on the way up, how clean the road was from the rain and how many waterfalls had appeared—also thanks to the rain.

On the way home, we detoured to Yungaburra to visit the Curtain Fig Tree. No matter how many times you see it, it still manages to feel otherworldly. Its massive, draping roots stretch down like giant wooden curtains, anchoring it to the forest floor. The tree is ancient, towering above everything around it—a real monument of nature. We stood quietly for a while, just taking it in.

Birdsong filled the canopy and we spotted a little possum tucked high up in the tangle of roots. The fig is more than a tree—it’s a whole ecosystem, home to bats, insects, birds, and reptiles. You can feel its life, humming and breathing with the forest around it.

The ride home after that was golden, that perfect midday light falling through the canopy. Back in our driveway, we pulled off our helmets, grinning.

“That was a good one,” Mandy said.

I nodded. “Might be one of the best.”