The Plunge Down Under

The Top End Tour Continues: Bushwalking in Kakadu

On our second morning in Kakadu, we awoke hopeful, in spite of the rain we had heard at various times throughout the night.  As the family assembled for breakfast, we sent Cameron to reception to check on the status of the river cruises.  Famous for the opportunities to bird watch and crocodile spot, the yellow water cruises were the main reason we had come to Kakadu. Cameron returned with the unwelcome news that although they had in fact been restarted, all cruises for the day were fully booked out.  I looked at him in disbelief.  The staff had clearly told us not to ask before 8am, and here was Cameron telling us at 7:45am that we were out of luck.

Unfortunately this turned out to be true.  When I requested clarification as to how this had happened, the staff members were quite defensive, explaining that they had could not have possibly predicted that the boat driver would change his mind, and then that the cruises would immediately fill up with tour groups.  True, perhaps, but then they did have our telephone numbers, which they had used previously to keep us up to date on weather reports.  We were just about the only family in the whole resort, and we had made it clear that we were hanging around to ride the boat.

I walked out of the office frustrated.  After a few minutes, I decided to plead our case once more, and this time around I gained their sympathy.  The staff agreed to try to open up another time slot for tourists like us who were traveling without the benefit of a local guide to pull strings.  In the end we decided to stay one more night at a reduced rate, so we could take the dawn cruise on the following day.  They also promised to call us if an earlier time slot became available.

In the meantime we had some hours to fill.  We decided to head back to a trail we had noticed the previous day that led to a lookout.  Long accustomed to pursuing scenic overlooks thanks to the influence of my mom, I have grown from despising them in my childhood to seeking them out as an adult, and so doing to my kids what I said I would never do.  We parked the car at the trail head, and got out.  The day did not yet feel too warm, although the sun was beginning to make its presence known.

As we began the climb, we noted that a camper van had pulled up behind us, and we could tell from the crying inside that one or more small children would soon be making the ascent behind us.

If we had known how far up the lookout would be, and for that matter, how anticlimactic it would be, I don't think we would have begun.  Oblivious, we started out happily enough, but the situation deteriorated a few minutes into the hike.  

The complaints started out with the usual "How much farther?"

"I have no idea.  Keep walking."

"Mom, my foot is bleeding!"

"You'll be all right."  There's an Australian attitude for you. "Keep climbing!"

"Mom, I just swallowed a fly!"  Sophie began to sputter, cough and gag.  

"I'm sure you will be fine.  Keep walking!"

"Mom, I can't stop crying.  Help me stop crying." This last one from James as he sobbed, flung his body down on the path, and refused to take one more step.  Ross had helpfully gone on far ahead, both out of sight and hearing distance.

By this time my own shirt was soaked from sweat, and I did not blame James for crying.  I didn't relish turning back, however, so I reminded him that he probably would not like for the younger child climbing behind us to find him crying, and then I encouraged him to count his steps and take a break after every ten.  This little suggestion did the trick, and we all made it to the top, a climb that was the equivalent of fifty flights of stairs according to our pedometers.

After we had collapsed for a while and drained the water bottles, I convinced everyone to pose for a photo.  They all managed a smile, likely because Ross promised them coke for lunch.

This was the best I could do with the view at the top:

Next on the agenda was a visit to the nearby cultural center to learn about the Aboriginal way of life.  The lady that greeted us insisted that we meet Mike, below, and talk to him about the didgeridoo that he was painting.  She seated us on milk crates grouped in a semi circle around him and tried to get the conversation going.  This felt very awkward to us, but we did our best, and he gave me permission to take some pictures.

I am pretty sure that after this we rested in our cabins and ate peanut butter or tuna for lunch.  Later in the afternoon we decided to go back to Nourlangie Rock to see what it looked like when it wasn't raining.  The sun even came out from time to time, and we enjoyed the colors of the various tree barks against the landscape.  

Again we felt the heat and humidity as we trekked around the rocks, and the plague of the flies attacking our mouths, ears and noses in their relentless quest for moisture. The troops threatened mutiny, although exactly what they would have done, or where they would have gone, we are not sure.

At this stage Ross reasoned with them, a process that could also be described as bribery.  He got them back on board eventually by mentioning the possibility of ice cream later in the day.

At one point on this bushwalk we encountered another family.  They had three children who all appeared to be roughly James's age, and they had driven (!) all the way from Melbourne.  Rather than staying in semi-comfortable lodging as we were, they had been tent camping, and we sympathized with them over the monsoon rains of the previous weekend.  For their part, they assured us that the flies were much worse at Uluru than in Kakadu, something we found hard to believe as we constantly swatted them away from our faces.  We exchanged cameras and took family photos for each other, then wished them a pleasant continuation of their journey.

I think this incident stands out in my mind because it was unusual.  Most of the time we were by ourselves in Kakadu. The sense of isolation in a remote, vast landscape was reinforced by the rugged rocks and the silence all around us.  It was another world altogether than the one in which we live in Melbourne, and we felt privileged indeed to experience it.

The scenery continued to delight us, and we appreciated the beauty from the rain in spite of the way it was wreaking havoc on our plans.  In the dry season, the water recedes back to just a few billabongs, we were told, and nearly everything turns brown and gray.

We drove around some more following our hike around Nourlangie Rock, and after a vain attempt to find food for dinner in Jabiru, we returned to the Rock for sunset.  The colors made the wait, and the extra driving, more than worthwhile.

We celebrated the end of our second day in Kakadu with pizza, and went to bed early in preparation for the scheduled 5:45am departure of the yellow cruise the next day.  Once again storms and heavy rainfall punctuated our sleep, and I was unable to shake the sense of dread that all would be cancelled in the morning.

 

 

 

Change in the Air

I am interrupting my series on our Top End Tour to bring you some photos from our front garden.  As our North American family friends impatiently wait the arrival of a reluctant spring, we cannot escape noticing that summer has come and gone.  Twilight descends all too early these days, summer dresses have been traded for woolen skirts and tights, boots and scarves have been dug out from the back of the closet, but best of all, the trees have begun their annual transformation.  Rather than mourn the loss of summer warmth, I am choosing to celebrate the colors everywhere around us.

James has refused to make any changes in his wardrobe and is still wearing short sleeves and shorts every day to school.  His brother, on the other hand, was required to switch to winter uniform last week.  For a child that complained last year about having to wear a collared shirt to school, he has been surprisingly enthusiastic about donning a blazer and trousers this year.  Cameron's pleasure in wearing suit continues to amaze us.  He claims it makes him feel grown up and important, and for that we have breathed a sigh of relief.  I even convinced him to let me take a photo or two the other day.

High in the Sky over Kakadu

When I left you in the last post, the rain was about to start falling again, the only road north out of Kakadu was closed, and furthermore, every attraction we had come to experience was shut down as well due to swollen rivers and dangerous conditions.  We fell asleep that night to the sound of storms in the distance and the pounding of raindrops in the tin roof with very little hope for an improvement of conditions in the morning.  

One member of our family was happy, however, our animal lover Cameron.  I am not sure if the wet conditions partly caused this, but everywhere we looked we saw reptiles and amphibians by the dozens.  There were toads, lizards, frogs, and geckos.  Cameron captured several to examine them, and at one point as we walked around the grounds near our cabin, I was warned about the danger of snakes.  Most of the locals had on thick boots for protection.  We promised to stay on the paths and keep a sharp eye out for the slithering creatures.

Breakfast the next morning brought mixed news.  The popular yellow water cruises, famous for the opportunities to bird watch and spot crocodiles, were still not running, but the road north to Jabiru had opened.  The kids went for another swim while Ross and I debated our plans for the day, finally deciding to drive to Jabiru and take a scenic flight over the park.  It was becoming that clear that we would not be able see much of Kakadu unless we took to the skies.  

The sun reappeared as we headed north, and we admired the reflections caused by the standing water, green and yellow grasses, and the trees.  It was not long before we spotted one of the birds I had been hoping to find, the Rainbow Bee-eater.  He cooperated for me as I fiddled with my camera, staying put on his branch and offering up a nice profile view.

Rainbow Bea-eaters do in fact have a predilection for bees, and can consume hundreds per day, a habit that puts them at odds with bee keepers.  They are immune to the poison in the stingers of bees and wasps, but they do carefully remove the stinger before eating the captured insect.

In an hour of driving we encountered no more than three vehicles.  It appeared we had the park to ourselves, one advantage I suppose of all the rain.  Even so we were roundly scolded for pulling over to look at a dingo.  The tour guide of a busload coming from the opposite direction had also pulled off, but apparently he felt our van was in a dangerous spot as he stuck his head out the window and raked us over the coals for stopping along a roadway with a 110 km per hour speed limit.  Never mind that the road was perfectly straight and perfectly empty.  Ross responded to his tirade with a friendly wave and a "Thank you, Mate," and we concluded that he must have needed some dramatic material for his captive audience.

We arrived in plenty of time for our noon flight which took off from a small landing strip in Jabiru, a purpose-built mining town in Kakadu.  About fourteen of us squeezed into a tiny airplane and put on our old-fashioned headphones as instructed.  It was hot, cramped, and uncomfortable, but the views after we took off more than made up for the discomfort.

One advantage of visiting Kakadu in the rainy season is witnessing the sheer volume of water that cascades over Jim Jim and Twin Falls.  We were told that the waterfalls can completely disappear in the dry season, something we found hard to believe.

Even though we had done little other than sit most of the day, at the end of the flight we were exhausted, likely from the heat and humidity, so we headed back toward our lodgings with a brief stop along the way at Nourlangie Rock, site of some famous rock art considered to be thousands of years old.  We sloshed through the mud puddles in our inadequte footgear, and I was reminded of our sodden trip to Uluru last November.  Some lessons it seems we will never learn.

By now thoroughly exhausted we called it a day.  What we should have done was to check in again with the motel staff on the status of the yellow water river cruises.  They had assured us, however, that there would be no news until the following day, and we believed them.  Oblivious to the rapidly-filling cruises that had in fact been re-opened we enjoyed a dinner of barramundi and kangaroo before once again falling asleep to the sound of raindrops on the roof.

 

 

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Top End Tour: On the Road to Kakadu

Top End Tour: On the Road to Kakadu

The drive from Darwin, capital city of the Northern Territory, to Kakadu National Park was both longer and more stressful than we had hoped.  The monsoon rains had mercifully ceased, but flooding closed many roads, including the Arnhem Highway, the most direct route.  Other roads were open only to 4WD vehicles, and so we stopped at the airport in a vain attempt to trade our minivan for a more robust truck.  Not surprisingly, nothing was available for a family of six, and to add to our problems, the motel reception in Kakadu phoned us to advise that 1) the only remaining road leading to the park would possibly be closed any minute, and 2) the entire park might be forced to evacuate before nightfall.

We decided to take our chances as the motel staff promised to ring as further information became available.  I lost my phone signal almost immediately, however, and we resigned ourselves to the uncertainty.  It wasn't long before we encountered our first road train, a common sight in Australia's Top End where distances are long, and towns are very few and far between.

As you can probably tell from the following photos, taken through the windshield of our van as we pulled out to pass, road trains are a force with which to reckon.  Fortunately, there are few cars on the road, so passing them usually doesn't take too long.

Empty roads are common as Australia's third-largest state or territory in terms of size is very sparsely populated.  With the most recent figures estimating the population to be around 230,000 people, the Northern Territory contains only 1% of the country's inhabitants.  Of those 230,000, over 30% are indigenous, and this difference from Victoria's 1% (where we live) we noticed right away.  There are few sealed roads, and rather than the population congregating along the coast as it does in all of the other states in Australia, in the Northern Territory, nearly everyone lives along the Stuart Highway.  This famous highway connects Darwin in the North to Adelaide in the South at a length of nearly 1800 miles.

Several hours later, we finally made it into Kakadu in spite of the rising river levels.  We marveled at the beauty of the reflections caused by the pooling water as the sunset, and also came across our first dingo in the wild.  Unfortunately he appeared to be emaciated, and we concluded that he must have lost his mother.

We met very few other travelers on the road, but we did arrive without incident at the Gagadju Resort located near the middle of Kakadu National Park, an area that I mentioned in my last post is nearly the size of West Virginia.  The staff who greeted us remarked that it was unlikely we would be evacuated, but that the only road leading north was closed, and that furthermore, the water cruise we had hoped to take in the morning was closed until further notice due to turbulent water.  

With this unwelcome news, we unpacked and ordered dinner.  As unlikely as it sounds in the middle of what felt like nowhere, the food was amazingly good.  Cameron and Ross enjoyed perfectly grilled barramundi served on a bed of polenta and spinach, while the rest of us devoured wood-fired pizza topped with pesto and fresh tomato.  Barramundi (usually shortened to "barra" in the Top End) turned out to be our favorite food of the trip.  It is found in abundance in the waters around Darwin, and is a delicious, firm but mild-tasting fish, and therefore very popular.

Dinner was followed with all members of the family taking a nighttime swim in the immaculate pool. With the water about the same temperature as the air---approximately 85 degrees F, it felt wonderful, and we headed to bed hoping for better road and river conditions in the morning.

 

 

 

A Tour of the Top End of Australia

As we boarded the plane for our return trip to Melbourne from Australia's northernmost capital, Darwin, the text from my dad on my smart phone read, "Glad the crocs didn't get you.  You do have all 4 kids, right?"  I was able to answer in the affirmative--not only did we have all four kids, all sixteen limbs were intact as well, in spite of the fact that they had come within inches of the snapping jaws just a couple of hours earlier.  That story and those photos will come in a later post.

The beginning of our trip to Darwin started somewhat less dramatically.  It involved the usual 4am rise to catch one of those awful early morning flights one must take to save money on airfares for six people. Upon our arrival several hours later, the humidity slapped us full force in the face, and we couldn't help but notice the ominous looking clouds in the distance.  We had expected some rain on our trip as it was scheduled for the tail end of the Top End's wet season, but still we were unprepared for the volume of the monsoon rains that hit the city to welcome us.

The upside of all the rain was that it forced us to rest.  Rather than tour the city on our first afternoon, a city by the way that seemed quite small to all members of the family, we stayed put and rested at our accommodation, napping while we listened to the rain pounding on the metal roof of the verandah that wrapped around our villa.  The rain continued throughout the next day, so we spent our time touring the various museums on offer.  Fortunately the children all found them interesting.  

Highlights of the museums included Sweetheart, famous for being the largest saltwater crocodile on record.  He was captured several years ago after he developed the disturbing habit of attaching fishing boats, and now lives in stuffed form at Darwin's main museum.  We also viewed various examples of boats that have plied the waters around Darwin, as well as aircraft, including one of only two B-52 Bombers on display outside of the U.S.  Its wingspan stretched the entire length of the hangar at the Aviation Museum.

The favorite part of Darwin for the younger three children was visiting Crocodylus Cove where we were able to feed baby crocs, and then swim with them, separated by only a glass wall.

Katie's best experience in the city was the WWII museum, which I unfortunately did not visit.  I had headed back instead to the natural history museum with the boys who wanted another look at Sweetheart and the other animals on display. Darwin was bombed repeatedly by the Japanese during WWII, and in fact the first attack was carried out by the same squadron that bombed Pearl Harbor.  Many residents evacuated during the War.  Those buildings that were not destroyed by the Japanese were later flattened by Cyclone Tracy which demolished the city on Christmas Eve of 1974.  So Darwin can rightfully be called a Comeback City.  Just a handful of original buildings remain.

My favorite part of Darwin was the sunset over the waterfront on our last night.  On the advice of the friendly folks at the church we visited on Easter Sunday, we walked out to Stokes Hill Wharf and placed an order for fish and chips for dinner.  Another torrential downpour hit as we finished our meal, but by the time we walked back the sky transformed into a gorgeous light show.  With Cameron as my assistant, and with the help of the tripod, I went to work trying to capture some of the beauty on display for us that night.

Next are a few photos of the same location taken at dawn.  It was pretty then too, but not quite as dramatic as sunset.

Finally, I have a few shots of plants that Cameron wanted me to record, taken around the villa where we stayed for three nights.  Next up in my planned line-up of posts will be our roadtrip to Kakadu National Park, a World Heritage site roughly the size of the state of West Virginia.

See you soon on the road to Kakadu.