Crocodile Encounters

CROCODILE ENCOUNTERS

Well, really, we haven’t had any actual encounters with crocodiles, but we have had two occasions where we could have been attacked had we had the worst luck ever.  Such moments can still deliver a chill when looking back.

The first (possible) encounter was behind Mataranka Hot Springs.  After a swim in the warm soupy water of the springs we followed the track to the Little Roper river, where there was a floating pontoon.  I’d seen a sign earlier saying that you could usually swim in the river.  The gate was open, which indicated it was safe, or at least that’s how I interpreted it.   We descended the steps to the pontoon.  It was beautiful, the water clear and inviting, long-limbed trees overhanging both banks.  There was a ladder off the side of the pontoon, obviously for accessing the water.

The hot springs were novel but not refreshing (see separate entry) so I pulled my singlet over my head and dove in.  The water was cold, and murkier once in.  I swam around long enough for Shana to take a photo and then I was quickly up the ladder.  I was wary of crocs but kept telling myself it was all in my head - surely the gate wouldn’t be opened if crocs were an issue. 

An old guy came down the ladder and joined us on the pontoon.  I was towelling myself off and told him to jump in; I told him the water was beautiful.  He said he didn’t think it was safe. To prove my point I went to read him a sign we’d noticed on the back of the gate, one that we hadn’t read yet ourselves.  If we had of read it maybe I wouldn’t have been so cocky.

The sign said that swimming wasn’t banned but the choice was up to the individual.  It said that crocs are regularly caught in the immediate area and there is no guarantee that some crocs haven’t escaped detection.  It was a case of swim at your own risk because nobody can say whether there’s crocs present or not.  They try their best to keep them away but, you know, they can’t make any promises.

I felt a bit dumb then, and sick in stomach.  The dumbest way I can imagine dying is being eaten by a crocodile in the NT.   

The second (possible) encounter wasn’t our fault, although any lurking crocs wouldn’t care either way.  It was on the Katherine River, along the lowlands south of town.

There’s a weir at the lowlands which directs the water and funnels it into a series of little rapids with pools alongside.  Friends had told us they’d swum there and negotiated the rapids on air-beds.  We got there about 10am, walking with Morrissey.  There was nobody around which, given that the day was already stiflingly hot, was unexpected.  We followed the riverbank for a while.  Moz swam at several places.  We watched schools of large fish maintain themselves against the current.  It was  peaceful and serene.

I suggested we take Moz back to the ‘bago and get the bodyboards.  It would be fun. We’d shoot down the rapids into the river.   Shana had a feeling though.  She gets these feelings sometimes.  They send her straight to google. 

Shan’ googled the place we were in – Katherine Low Level Recreational Reserve.  Pages came up depicting it as a popular local swimming hole.  Several sites said much the same thing – swim, enjoy, float down the rapids.  I’d walked off by this stage, me and Moz.  I was looking for a place downstream to exit the river.  I’d travelled maybe 300mtrs and waded into the water several times.

Then Shana’s voice rang through the trees.  It had an edge of panic in it.  Moz took off first and I watched as he ran to her.  She was now standing up off the bank, well away from the river.  When she saw me she made urgent motions with her hands; motions that signalled ‘come here and come quickly’. So I did.

The web search had failed to shake off her ‘feeling’.  She’d then rung the Katherine Information centre who staunchly informed here that a 3mtr saltie had been caught where we stood just over a week ago.  She advised Shana to go nowhere near the riverbank and under no circumstances go in the water.  The area was now considered unsafe.  If you must go there, the woman had said, stay up in the picnic area well away from the water. 

Yeah.  Right.  Good one.  I’d just ambled along the riverside wandering into the water at will, not a care in the world.  I thought it was safe. The internet had told us it was safe.

 There’s got to be a moral in there somewhere.