Fifteen years after Cyclone Yasi, the region’s $21.5 million makeover is finally complete. Elle Halliwell discovers the best way to appreciate it is to arrive alone, underprepared, and ask the locals.
I arrived in Mission Beach the way I tackle most things in life; underprepared but casually confident it’ll all work out.
Having spent the week before my departure coordinating school holiday childcare and recording a 15-second video for my mum explaining where the cat litter was and how to find my son at school pick up, I had not done more than glance at the itinerary for my upcoming Tropical Far North Queensland press trip.
If I had, perhaps I would have noticed the part where it explained I’d be driving myself around the region. I only discovered this small detail after arriving at Cairns airport and wondering where the person holding a sign with my name on it – who would be shuttling me around for the next five days – was hiding.
My travel philosophy is that unless someone dies or there’s an horrific incident involving hospitalisation, it’s the unexpected moments, precarious situations and detours which make the best stories. Perhaps it’s this mindset which makes me a very relaxed traveller but also one who regularly seems to return with more nailbiting tales than most. So discovering I’d be exploring the tropical coast autonomously was a welcome surprise, rather than a rude shock and lesson in preparation.
The upside of a solo road trip is that after hours of listening to yourself singing badly and making disparaging remarks about the poor skills of fellow road users, you become very keen to hear the sound of a voice other than your own.
This is why after dropping my car and bags off inside my luxurious villa at the newly opened Nala Resort, I made my way to the busiest spot of any town on a typical Friday afternoon; the local pub. Not long after, I’m sharing a bottle of house rosé with 73-year-old retiree Jocelyn, her third husband, and half a dozen locals deep in their regular end-of-week session. By my third glass, I knew where to find the best coffee, how longtime local One Leg Greg got his nickname (it did not, for the record, involve a dramatic wrestle with a crocodile), and which restaurant to avoid if you’d like dinner to arrive before midnight.
But what I was really interested in I also received the local verdict on the town’s $21.5 million makeover Mission Beach took a direct hit from Cyclone Yasi on February 3, 2011. The Category 5 storm, one of the most powerful to strike Australia in recorded history, destroyed hundreds of homes and businesses and left this remote community of roughly 1,400 people staring down a recovery that outlasted most news cycles by more than a decade. From the pub verandah, with a panoramic view of the finished result, the regulars’ assessment was positive — in the measured way of people who have been waiting a very long time and are not about to oversell it.
In 2019, investment group Mayfair 101 announced a $1.6 billion, 15-year plan to rebuild Dunk Island and surrounding Mission Beach into a tourism destination of regional significance, with Mayfair Iconic Properties CEO Stuart Duplock appointed to lead it. The scheme collapsed after ASIC pursued the group over misleading and deceptive conduct, leaving investors out of pocket and the region’s future uncertain. The false dawn made the eventual arrival of genuine investment all the more meaningful.
The Charlton Hotel Group – the family operators behind the much-loved Bedarra Island Resort – acquired the long-derelict Elandra in 2021 and spent two years transforming it: 20 renovated guest rooms, a 120-seat restaurant and bar, a new pool deck and a luxury day spa. It reopened in 2024. Both the Elandra and Bedarra Island Resort are currently on the market, which is either an opportunity or a loss depending on how you look at it , though a region that could attract the Charltons twice is clearly doing something right.
Four kilometres offshore, Dunk Island has a new story of its own. Annie Cannon-Brookes, who purchased the island in 2022 for approximately $25 million, has launched beachfront eco tents alongside a regular ferry service from Mission Beach, positioning it as Far North Queensland’s only beachfront island glamping experience. The ferry departs twice daily, Wednesday to Sunday, with eco tents from $260 per night. It’s a measured, low-impact beginning for an island that has been waiting fifteen years for one.
Walk through the new hospitality precinct at dusk and you understand what they mean. The strip connects the main road to the palm-flanked beach, and when the light drops, a live band drifts through Fleetwood Mac’s Gypsy from one of the beachfront bars while kids chase each other around colourful sculptures under strings of lights. The place has the ease of a town that has been through something significant and decided, finally, to enjoy itself.
Which brings me to Nala Resort, and the question of how Jess and her business partner Ben looked at a rundown holiday park in one of Australia’s most cyclone-prone coastal towns and saw a luxury boutique hotel.
The short answer is: correctly. The pair spent two years transforming the site before opening Nala Resort last December, planting 2,000 trees on the property in the process. The result is an adults-only stay positioned between the Wet Tropics World Heritage rainforest and the Coral Sea, where each villa is optimised for privacy and every detail has been considered; from the custom light fittings to the body products, which mimic the layered scents of the surrounding rainforest.
After a blissful night’s sleep, I’m invited to experience a personal breathwork session with practitioner Aaron Pike. If you’ve never done a breathwork class, and think that the idea of being shown how to breathe is nonsensical, I implore you to put your skepticism aside and try it at least once.
It’s a ride.
It’s my first one-on-one session, and after 90 minutes of what is essentially supervised hyperventilation, my senses are so heightened that as I float down the path back to my villa I’m almost convinced the myriad breeze-tickled tropical plants are waving at me and congratulating me for pushing through the discomfort.
I ventured out for dinner to recalibrate. When it comes to picking a restaurant as a first-time visitor, we each have our strategy. For some, it’s ping-ponging between blackboard menus comparing price points. For parents, it’s about time, specifically how fast food can reach the table before the furniture gets rearranged. For me, it’s a vibe, and it’s the thrumming of bongo drums and conversation that lures me to Garage Bar and Brewhouse. Peak season is still a few weeks away, but the venue is packed, and after one of the kitchen’s wood-fired pizzas, I understand why it’s the locals’ favourite.
The weather in the tropics is unpredictable, and this region has copped more than its fair share of the worst imaginable. But standing on the foreshore on a Friday night, watching a town that has rebuilt itself twice over get ready for another season, it’s hard not to feel that the passport can wait. The driver’s licence will do just fine.
