Nights 130 - 143: In & Around Darwin

NIGHTS  130  &  131 – LEEANNE’S PLACE, BATCHELOR.

Sometimes people just connect.

 And so do dogs.

 We met Leeanne in Brisbane and our dogs fell in love with each other.  For a night and a day they wouldn’t leave each other alone.  They ran together, fell asleep with each other and, in a massive show of affection, allowed each other a share of their food.  Shelly is a red kelpie and, according to Leeanne, she’s not normally accepting of other dogs. 

Leeanne would probably have shared her food also, but we didn’t ask her to.  We shared drinks though and found we got on really well. She invited us to visit her when going to Darwin.  We looked forward to seeing her again.

Arriving at Leeanne’s front fence set Shelly off.  She barked angrily at Shana and I until she saw Moz.  She then stopped barking and licked at his nose through the wire.  That was a good sign.  We’d planned to leave Moz there while we visited a national park or two.  We hoped Shelly wouldn’t be territorial at home.  It sometimes happens.  Thankfully she wasn’t.  The romance re-blossomed before us and we entered the property, leaving them to it.

Leeanne lives on a wide, flat road which allowed us to sleep in the ‘bago.  She offered us a bed but we declined. The ‘bago is our home.  We like it in there.  While she went to work we hung around, reading her books and going for walks around Batchelor.  We liked her house and offered her our services while she went on an upcoming holiday.  She accepted, so we will be house-sitting for ten days during August.  It has worked out well for us both.  She is looking after Morrissey for three weeks while we tour around Litchfield and Kakadu and then we look after the house and Shelly while she’s gone.  Win-win.  We are so thankful that we met her on that warm and cheerful night at Camille’s place.

 

The Rum Jungle pub was but a short walk away from Leeanne’s and it was there that I watched NSW again get their butt kicked.  I sat up the back initially, until the drinks kicked in.  Alcohol can send me seeking tobacco and I bought a ciggie for $2 from a guy in a Qld Jersey.  We chatted and he invited me to join him and his mates, all Qld supporters.  They were all drunk but friendly and we ribbed each other playfully.  I shook all their hands at the end of the game, congratulating them as if they’d contributed somehow to the win.  They asked me to stay but I left immediately.  Queensland deserved to win but I couldn’t endure any post game posturing.  Once again this sad and sulking blues fan walked solemnly home.

NIGHT  132  -  SHADY GLEN CARAVAN PARK, DARWIN

Sammie and Chris arrived today.  We picked them up at the airport, beating them into Darwintown by about an hour.  We’d booked a site for the night at the Shady Glen.  It had a nice sounding name, even if it had been built at the end of the airport runway.  We could stick our fingers in our ears if need be; mainly we just wanted a place out of the sun.

Shady Glen was a massive park.  They crammed us all in but they did have big shade trees.  Chris pitched his two person tent beneath our awning. We filled it with cushions from the ‘bago’s lounge, threw in a doona and some pillows, zipped it tight and hit Darwin for the evening. 

 

Our first stop was Mindil Sunset Markets.  I found them uninspiring as a market but possibly because there was a strong focus on food - I was saving my appetite for our evening meal.  We’d booked a highly recommended restaurant and it was Sam’s shout - (thanks Sammie).  We did all decide to try eating crocodile though, reasoning that it wouldn’t be part of the night’s menu.  Between us we shared crocodile burgers and crocodile sushi and rejected crocodile hotdogs.  We found it a tough meat to chew but haven’t written it off completely.  Perhaps market stalls aren’t always the best places to try exotic new cuisines.

The sunset was superb though.  Mindil Beach faces west and so it was my first ever sunset disappearing into water.  It was spectacular.  For the twenty or so minutes that the sun seared into the ocean the beach was packed. I felt like clapping.  It was as good as any fireworks. Once the orange sky had faded away everyone just wandered off, us to find a taxi to take us into town.

Hanuman’s Restaurant came highly recommended by friends and online.  Its menu offered a modern fusion between Thai and Indian, which sounded interesting, plus it supposedly had an extensive range of cheap and tasty cocktails.  Great.  Those who know me know I like a brightly coloured umbrella drink or two.

Perhaps we hit it on an off night.  Both the food and the cocktails were over flavoured.  We all agreed that the food was prepared with a heavy hand.  It wasn’t terrible but we were hoping for better, something more subtle.  We wanted to nod excitedly to each other across the table, our mouths happy and full.  It was not to be, and the leaden brown walls and purple fluorescent strip lighting added little to the experience.  “It used to better” we’ve been told since “when it was uptown and in the smaller premises.  You should have tried it then.  It was really special then”.   

Mitchell Street was lit up and beckoning as the drunken rebel-rousing place to be.  We wandered along it, Chris reminiscing about a football trip spent there.  We resisted its somewhat haggard siren song and caught a taxi back to the Shady Glen.  It had been a fun first night together.  We went to bed excited about heading to Litchfield National Park.

I give The Shady Glen Caravan Park 2 stars out of 5.  It had a pool, a coke machine, and what seemed like its own airport with planes roaring into the sky before I was ready to greet the new day.

NIGHT  133  -  LITCHFIELD SAFARI CAMP, LITCHFIELD NATIONAL PARK.

Litchfield National Park is spectacular. 

We left Darwin and Shana drove, with Sam, Chris and I all seated around the back table.  It was at Shana’s suggestion.  She doesn’t like sitting at the back.  She suffers from car sickness.  Chris went up to join her about 30mins into the journey.  Sam and I, according to Shana, chatted away like monkeys as the ‘bago headed towards what we hoped were waterfalls with deep and cool swimming holes.

We drove past the magnetic termite mounds, none of us excited much by them.  It was nearing noon and we wanted water.  First stop was Florence Falls.  It was crowded and had lots of steps to go down but it is everything we had hoped – a deep plunge pool with access to dive under the waterfall curtain.  The water was cold and clear and very refreshing.  We swam and sat on the rocks and felt still.  After an hour or so we followed Sandy Creek back to the carpark.  It offered many little water holes to sit in, which we occasionally did.  We had late lunch beside it then, with bellies full, sat in it some more.  We intended going to Buley’s rock holes nearby but time had gotten away from us.  We clambered back into the ‘bago enroute to the campground, 30 mins away.

Litchfield Safari Camp is at the end of a dirt road at the top north end of the park.  We passed Wangi Falls to get to it but, once our site was confirmed, intended returning before nightfall, which we did.

Wangi Falls has a massive swimming area as big as a small lake.  We’d heard and read about it and looked forward to diving in.  Unfortunately it was closed to swimming when we got there.  There’d been a recent crocodile sighting (unconfirmed) and the protocol was to close the place to swimming while the area was thoroughly searched.  It usually took 3 days.  Today was the third day, so provided no croc was found, it would be re-opened tomorrow.  Righto then, we’d come back tomorrow.  For today we lay on the jetty and watched the waterfall and talked quietly among ourselves.

 As night descended we went back to the camp to set up.  There were ants near the ‘bago so Chris and Sam set the tent up in a grove of trees nearby.  They swear they heard dingos howling through the night. 

I give Litchfield Safari Campground 3 stars out of 5.  It was rough around the edges, which was perfectly in keeping with its location. They had a sign up seeking a caretaker.  I thought about it but not for long. We‘ll probably hole up and get work somewhere but this wasn’t the place.

NIGHT 134 – BATCHELOR BIG 4 CARAVAN PARK

Another big day in Litchfield.  A misty morning burned off into another glorious blue sky day.  First stop, Wangi Falls again.  We were all ready for a swim and some members of the party were hankering for a coffee - Wangi has a large kiosk.

Double disappointment.

 The swimming hole had yet to be re-opened and the coffee came from a push button machine bearing the sign: ‘Coffee – 1 type. 1 size.  1 milk.  It’s good enough for the bush’.  Shana bought one and made disapproving faces until it was finished.  It gave her a hit but no pleasure. 

Our first planned stop was at ‘Cascades’.  There is an Upper Cascades and a Lower Cascades.  We four university graduates reasoned that ‘upper’ meant a climb and that lower probably meant more water.   We turned left, following the creek towards the lowers.

The walk was lovely, following a rocky path through tall trees beside a clearwater flowing creek.  At times you had to cross the creek, jumping wary-footed from slippery rock to slippery rock.  At other times there was a tricky little climb.  We all agreed this was a good thing.  It wasn’t simply a case of pull up in the carpark and follow a gravel path.  The difficulties inherent in the track surely meant that the crowds would be less. It was unsuitable for those older or unsteady on their feet.

We didn’t go to the end.  We stopped short but could see the end destination clearly.  It housed a smallish swimming hole beneath a short drop waterfall.  There were dozens of people in it.  However, 200mtrs below, where we stopped, there was a smaller pool beneath a smaller waterfall, big enough to provide aquatic fun for up to four people.  We claimed it immediately, only having to share it with a hunting heron that ignored us completely.  We played there for an hour or so, directing any newcomers further along the creek.  “This isn’t it” we said continuously, “it’s up there further”.  The message was obvious.  Sod off, it said, we found this bit before you.  

After eating lunch our next stop was Greenant Creek and the rock pool above Tjaetaba Falls.

The climb wasn’t overly arduous but it did take an effort.  Maybe this is why there was hardly anybody up there.  All the time we were there we didn’t have more than four other people around us.  This made for a friendly atmosphere whereby everyone chatted in between launching themselves into the pool.  And you could launch into it because the pool was maybe 5mtr round and 3mtrs deep.  It was the most idyllic spot yet.  Such a deep, clean pool set high up above the park.  It offered a sweeping view, warm flat lazing rocks, a bombing pool with rock platforms and convivial human interactions.  Yet it doesn’t seem to be one of Litchfield’s main points of interest.  The carpark is small and it’s not mentioned in all the pamphlets.  That surprises me.  It is one of the best bush places I have ever been.

And then the day was over.  There were many other places we’d liked to have visited but couldn’t.  We drove into Batchelor and had a home cooked evening meal at Leeanne’s.  Full of tasty vegetarian food we wandered back through the streets of Batchelor toward the camping ground. 

I give the Batchelor Big 4 Camping Ground my thanks.  It was nicely appointed but, more importantly, they granted us an extra hours morning stay so we could celebrate Sam’s birthday with a Daddy cooked fry up.

NIGHT 135  -  ANNIE & SCOTT’S HOUSE, DARWIN.

“Wake up Sammie.  It’s your birthday day”.

It was a beautiful feeling having Sam with us on her birthday.  If you think about it, doing a lap of Australia is a selfish thing.  You are away from friends and family for a long period of time.  You are following your own dream at the expense of the many smaller but no less important events that occur during any given year.  Some are known in advance, like birthdays, and some occur suddenly to everyone.  There are at least three 50^th birthday celebrations I will miss this year.  There have already been a couple of funerals we would have attended had we been in Newcastle.  Nobody knows what will unfurl during a year and we will be far, far away from most of it.

But the chance came for us to do this trip and we grabbed it eagerly.  Who knows, maybe the chance was fleeting, requiring immediacy of action.  Maybe if we didn’t do it now the option would be taken from us.  We’ve heard many stories already of “should have done it earlier” and “we were going to do a trip like that but…”  

Shana and I love what we are doing.  We often smile at each other and reaffirm how thankful we are and how lucky we are to be given this opportunity.  Sam and Chris being here for Sam’s birthday truly is ‘the icing on the cake’.  They flew from Melbourne to Darwin, which is a long return flight to stay for only three nights.  But I’m so grateful that they did. 

Thank You Sam and Chris.  Litchfield National Park is a beautiful place, but Australia has many beautiful places, and we hope to experience many of them.  I love that whenever I remember Litchfield’s beauty, though, your faces will be there - smiling, playing and laughing alongside us.  It’s these things that make a happy life.

Plus there’s beauty and joy in reacquainting yourself with friends.

Shana lived with Annie & Scott in Brisbane.  She now lives in Newy; they live in Darwin.  It was time to catch up, to rediscover each other in the present and to let aging reinterpret events from the past.  Scott cooked a fantastic meal.  We sat beneath a canopy of high, large leaved trees.  We drank cider and gin in tall ice-filled glasses beside the pool.  I listened as they reconnected.

 Satisfied.

NIGHT 136  -  SHADY GLEN CARAVAN PARK, DARWIN.

We’ve been here before.  It was okay.  Expensive, but not as exorbitant as some parks around Darwin.  We had to wash clothes and be domestic for a day.  We had to get a wheel alignment on the ‘bago.

We spent the arvo in Darwin, wandering around the waterfront.  We bought another meal in another Darwin restaurant only to be disappointed again.  Maybe it is our continuing bad luck, but food doesn’t seem to be Darwin’s strong point.  We went for a swim in a netted off section of the harbour.  Compared to the cool clear rockpool water of our recent days, the tepid salty slimy harbour water was always going to be a pale imitation.  We took a brief walk through town reading the many information boards around the place.  Darwin has an interesting history.  We plan to see it more properly before heading west.  Just not sure when.

NIGHTS 137  -  139  - TUMBLING WATERS CARAVAN PARK, BERRY SPRINGS.

 Tumbling Waters is an oasis in the middle of dry and barren bush, although we didn’t have an oasis site.  We were in the ‘overflow’ section.  Basically, this means all the good sites were occupied and we could stay there at a cheaper rate, agreeing to being provided with no power or water and parking on what resembled a sporting oval.  But it’s Darwin during the cool dry.  Choices are limited.  We have solar and 12 volt.  We have a 100ltrs of drinking water.  The shower and toilet block was nearby and they had a cheap 3 day deal.  We handed over the money and reversed in beneath the power lines, near the scrubby trees.  Actually, it turned out to be a good place to stay.

 

The Territory Wildlife Park was just a short Vespa ride away and Shana really wanted to go there.  I was less enthused.  It’s basically a zoo and I’ve always found zoos to be depressing places.  Animals in cages are sad.  I’ve heard many conservationist arguments for why zoos are needed in today’s world but I find the sight of an animal crammed into a small scale manufactured representation of it’s natural ecosystem sad.  I imagine that the animal would rather be somewhere else.

 

Anyway, as far as these places go, the Territory Wildlife Park is great.  It’s a massive park requiring you to hop on and off of little trains that they have scooting about the place.  God forbid we tourists  walk in the NT heat.  The walk through aviary is spectacular, as is the aquarium, but it’s the raptor show you should see if ever you go there.  Using an elaborate choreography of opening and closing cage doors and a well-timed scripted narration, various large birds of prey fly over and around you on cue.  Some dive for food at the pool at back, others break eggs using the rocks positioned nearby, some grab planted meat and perch above the crowd, tearing at it with talon and beak, flecks of raw animal raining on those seated below.  It’s spectacular to watch and hear as the air fills with the sound of large flapping wings and high-pitched bird calls.

 There are talks offered everywhere in the Wildlife Park.  We went to many and I learned some interesting facts about NT’s native wildlife.  That’s a positive zoo thing (it’s just a pity that my learning apparently requires, for example, a large saltwater crocodile to live in a tiny, glass fronted pond).

The Caravan Park also offered some pleasant services.  There was the usual – swimming pool, kiosk, bar, etc.  But every Wednesday night was outdoor movie night, and we were there on a Wednesday.  We grabbed our deck chairs and steeled ourselves, first against the mozzies and then against the surprisingly cold night air.  The pre-movie entertainment was Adele live in concert, although we got to watch only the songs the guy in charge wanted to watch.  We then sat through a couple of songs by ‘Roy Orbison and Friends’, again edited by the dude with the remote control.  Then the main movie started – ‘The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel’.  We’d seen it before but it is a fun movie, and also topical in an audience comprising at least 80% grey nomads.

I give the Tumbling Waters Caravan Park 4 stars out of 5.  They even had their own fenced billabong housing seven freshwater crocs.  We went and watched them several times.  The crocs never moved once while we were there (although they were in different places). Could they have been made from concrete?  Did someone move them about at night? I smiled at one, despite all the singing I’ve had to do regarding never doing so, but it had no effect at all.  What does that tell you?

NIGHT  140  -  ROBIN FALLS, NEAR ADELAIDE RIVER.

Shana had read about Robin Falls on Wikicamps.  It was a free camp on the way to the Daly River, which is where we were headed.  It was at the end of a dirt road.  We stopped to check it out hoping to get a night without having to spend money.

The road in looked sketchy.  Dirt, but with deeply creviced ruts where many tyres had gouged it out.  But it was only a small section of ruts.  Beyond it looked okay.  We parked the ‘bago and walked the road for a kilometre or so, eventually deeming it okay.  We eased our way through and found a lovely spot beside a running creek.

The falls themselves had little flow and a small pool, big enough to sit in but not much else.  We went there once but it wasn’t worth the climb to go back.  We settled down for the afternoon next to the creek, which also had ‘sitting pools’ dotted along its length.  There were other people camped around us but we all maintained a respectful distance.  Until just before dark.

Just before dark, while I was cooking on the weber, a four wheel drive arrived with two adults and four teenagers.  It pulled in right behind us.  A guy got out and quickly scouted the area.  The light was diminishing rapidly.  The other adult made a bad driving decision and, while the first adult scouted, the second adult got the car stuck in a ditch so that it wouldn’t move.  Minor panic ensued, the constant revving of the car attracting people from up and down the road.  Some brought shovels while most offered advice.  The 4WD belonged to a youth group.   It was a long-weekend in Darwin and the adults had brought the teens into the bush to teach them bush skills.  So far they’d taught them what not to do – they’d arrived too late and now the 4WD was stuck.  While many hands helped free the 4WD, (I continued cooking), the teens erected six dome tents with the help of the no longer driving adult.  4WD eventually freed, they needed to make a fire to do some cooking.  But the kids had erected the tents where the fire needed to be.  They had to move all six tents.  Unfortunately they moved them to within three metres beside us.  We didn’t really care.  We felt for the adults and recognised how hard their job must be but, still, we’d rather not have four teenagers camped directly beside us.  We imagined all sorts of silliness and carry-on during the night.  We shut ourselves in and put on a DVD.  At ten o’clock I went for a man wee.  They were all fast asleep.  In the morning their tents were there but they had gone for the day.  I hope they had a good time.  I hoped the adults retained their sanity.

 

I give Robin Falls 4 ½ stars out of 5.  It is a beautiful free camp site.  The creek flows and you can sit in it.  The people are friendly.  There are no facilities at all but it was a great find.

 

NIGHTS  141 & 142 – THE MANGO FARM, DALY RIVER.

Have you ever imagined what it would be like to have a large caravan park all to yourself?  Imagine not having to queue for the showers or toilets or laundry?  Imagine being able to make as much noise as you like.  Imagine there being nobody around you, yet you are free to enjoy whatever it is that spurred the Caravan Park to be built there in the first place.  Alone.  Just you and your partner.

When we got to The Mango Farm the gate was closed.  It didn’t seem unusual.  We’d just driven 100 kms along crumbling and bouncy tar roads, driven the last 10kms along dirt roads that sprung up on us unexpectedly, having been mentioned nowhere in any of the literature we’d read. We were off the beaten track.   We’d driven across cattle grates and through the mango plantation to get here.  The closed gate seemed fair enough.  Farms do that don’t they – close gates?  A sign said go to site 15 to book in.  We walked past a closed kiosk and into the park.

Site 15 was easily spotted.  In the whole park, a park with 50 odd powered sites, there was only 1 van in sight.  There was a woman nearby, holding a broom.  She was friendly, ignoring the fact that our minds were trying to process what we were seeing – that the place looked abandoned, like a ghost caravan park.  She chatted chirpily, asking how long we intended staying.  It all felt so spooky.  I could see that Shana had thoughts of a similar answer to me “about as long as it takes us to get back to our car”.  But we wanted to see the Daly River.  We wanted an experience a bit off the track.  We’d driven this far. 

We had to pay cash.  The managers had recently left and nobody could use the electronic banking devices.  We had enough cash in our pockets to stay for two nights.  We literally had to collect up 10 cent pieces to scrape it all together.  We passed the money over and were directed to a spot near the only toilet block that was opened. We drove past the vacant cabins.  We drove past the closed down bistro.  We drove past the empty manager’s quarters.  We turned left past the owner’s house, the owner who now lived somewhere else.   

When we reached our spot we saw two more vans.  One was vacant, left there until the owner returned.  The other was across the far side of the park, in the ‘unpowered’ section.  Shana waved to the occupants and received the most reluctant of returned waves.  Whoever they were it was obvious we weren’t going to have fivesies together.

 

So we swam in the pool by ourselves, more than once.  We went to the pontoon by ourselves.  We walked to the back billabong by ourselves.  We used both of the open toilets and both of the opened showers.  That night, as night fell, the strangest of bird calls wrenched the darkness, followed by the continuous murmur of colonies of bats.  The place was empty but filled with night noises.  Most came from the trees above but not all.  There were noises we couldn’t account for.

The morning dawned bright and the cooler night air had allowed us to sleep.  About 9am we awoke.  I planned to do some fishing.  Shan’ planned to read by the pool.  An internet search had revealed many answers.  The owner had gone into politics and left management of the place to his erstwhile son.  The son hadn’t liked it, and walked away.  It was now being run by the caretakers who, while not sending people away, weren’t actively courting them either.  The place was in transition.  It was a popular fishing haven but I think the large fishing groups were being dissuaded until things became sorted.  Good o, mystery solved.  We were becoming used to a park to ourselves.

Then the other vans started arriving.  Be careful what you wish for.

I’d said that I’d rather maybe there were a couple more people here.  I don’t mind a conversation or two during the day with somebody new.  This newbie walked the park and chose a spot – DIRECTLY BEHIND US!  There were over 40 vacant sites in the park and they chose to park where we could almost touch each other when sitting outside our vans.  We didn’t want to talk to them then.  We were both gobsmacked that they chose to crowd us in and, in an almost empty park, take any outdoor privacy away from us.  We weren’t rude to them, although we wanted to be.  When the woman asked Shana was there anywhere nearby that she could buy cornflakes we almost felt sorry for her, especially when we saw that she had her bag over her shoulder.  We don’t know where she thought she was going to walk to.

Another van pulled up during the afternoon, and went beside us.  JAYSUS!  What was going on?  We’d have to stop being so charming.

I give The Mango Farm 2 stars out of 5.  It would have been very flash had anything been open.  But there was nothing there. Not even any barra-bloody-mundi.  And the screeching night noise belonged to a caged house cockatoo, crying all through the night for the owner to come home.

NIGHT  143  -  PUSSY CAT FLAT, PINE CREEK.

We’d stayed here before as well.  It was the night I met a fellow bodyboarder. I have fond memories of the place but this time around it offered us less. 

This time there was nobody there under 65, but many who were over 65 and wanting to impart their wisdom in a loud voice.  At Pussy Cat Flat you sit under a large carport type awning, a bar in the corner.  You sit at round tables on a concrete floor, four plastic seats per table.  At the table to our right a bloke almost turned me off Tasmania with his loud and rabid fanaticism.  All the “you have to” do this and that was overpowering.  The other bloke at the table looked shell-shocked.  At the table in front an equally loud bloke wearing the shortest of shorts almost displayed his ‘nads while he moaned about Cairns.   (Apparently Stubbies are making a comeback, and not just for the older folk.  You can buy them again, new, and not as a joke from an op shop. This horrifies me.  I’ve had too many experiences of trying to ignore my father’s genitals as they peek through the left leg hole.  We, the generation who have experienced short shorts in practice, should do our utmost to dissuade this coming generation who think they are a good idea in theory.  We must help them to see that there are lessons in history; that some things should never be repeated.  Things like Nazism and Fascism and fob pocketed elastic waisted Stubbies short shorts.  It’s our duty to posterity ).

Tomorrow we head into Kakadu.  The loud old nomads all call it ‘Kakadon’t’, as if it is the funniest pun ever and they were the first person to say it.  There’s a sense of disenchantment about Kakadu among the nomadic set but, thankfully, we get the chance to make up our own mind.