Kakadu Days 45 to 51

Lissa managed to talk her way in to a free night here which positioned us nicely for a drive to Jim Jim and Twin Falls. Both falls are a spectacular sight as water plummets from high on the escarpment. The drive in cuts a corrugated path through the bush at the bottom of the ridge for 50km then becomes a single lane sand track for a further 15km. There are small creek crossings and a deeper river crossing before Twin Falls. It feels like you are defying at least one natural law as the car ploughs a path through water that is home to several crocodiles. Our car is built for these moments, so it handled the 70cm depth with ease. The kids were impressed.

Reaching Twin Falls requires a short boat trip through a steep sided gorge followed by a short walk over the boulders and a pontoon to the sand base of the falls. I could have been Richard Branson as we boarded the empty boat and ate lunch on the deserted white river sand. Both of us seem to have access to such seclusion, only one of us serves rice cakes to our guests. 

Barramundi and a freshwater croc were spotted on our return boat ride.

Jim Jim Falls requires a little less driving and a little more walking but the destination is equally awe inspiring. The water is crystal clear, the sand white and the falls beautifully spill 150m down the sheer rock face. Swimming is also kosher here. These two falls were clearly the most spectacular we have visited and well worth the effort.

Eva won at Uno again tonight. She may just be the cutest thing in the world right now. At least the southern hemisphere.

  

Before leaving Cooinda, Kael befriended a boy whose parents run a day trip experiencing Indigenous culture and cuisine. The father, Sean, kindly took us for a drive around a small billabong. We couldn’t quite squeeze in the full “Animal Tracks” tour but Sean tipped us off on a fishing spot further into the park.

There seems to be some predictable traffic jams on the sight-seeing circuit. Rock art is like a magnet for the European tourist robots. We ventured into the scrum at Nourlangie, a series of stone shelters come art galleries. The walls are adorned with layers of paintings by the local indigenous peoples over many generations. These people groups are known collectively as “Bininj” (pronounced Bin in) but our kids refer to them as “Boringinals”, mistakenly dropping the first letter. Most of the characters are animals, but there is some storytelling with human and spirit forms.

Norlangie Billabong proved to be a great walk for us bird watching junkies. We added a Lotus bird and Green pygmy goose to Kaels growing twitch list. He has quite a keen eye and his enthusiasm has remained constant since we first started noticing new birds. His personal favourites seem to be the Rainbow Bee Eater and Whistling Kite which are in abundance in the top end. A pair of Barking Owls emerged above our tent upon dusk for 4 nights in a row. Kael even woke Lissa at 4am to inform her that he could hear them calling. From Jabiru we also visited the vast Mamukala wetland, one of many in the park. 

Packing up on our last morning, Kael managed to wrestle a kettle burning his upper arm. There was quite a nice blister but he recovered well with some ice and a dressing. We made our way to Merl Campsite on the East Alligator River, and while the others joined a basket weaving workshop, I went to the river to chase Barra. 

There was only a slight slip up in the naming of the Rivers of Kakadu. There is no sign of Alligators but Crocs are everywhere. And you know what that means…that’s right Barramundi. Now, I have arrived somewhat ill equipped to capture these critters. My 2 short rods are council cleanup specials, one with a tiny reel, the other with an old surf reel. My lure arsenal needs an overhaul and Darwin is still 200km away. Never-the-less, I ventured to the water’s edge to find people fishing on the rock wall with a few brave souls shin deep on the river crossing. The blokes with the balls are catching all the fish. I looked at my wrist band "WWLD" (What would Leeroy do?). Time to “man up”, wet the ankles and catch a barra.

Tourists stand on the viewing platform, their gaze alternating between croc and barra hunters. It took a few casts to get into the groove but soon enough there was a hit, pulled hooks, then a bust off and plenty of chomped soft plastic lures. A few decent fish were pulled in around me along with a few visits from the resident apex predator. 

Persistence was rewarded when finally I had a hit, hook-up and after a short fight, my first barra. I was not ashamed to ask for a photo with my conquest even though he measured just 35cm. I returned to the family to share my news and found them working with strips of Pandanas leaves weaving bracelets. Today, everyone’s a winner.

After setting up camp, Kael and I returned to the river to witness the tide peak with water now flowing upstream at a great rate. The crocs were even more numerous so we flicked our lures into the torrent and watched them cruise along. No fish for anyone.

The main attraction of the area is the rock art at Ubirr. A sunset walk and picnic dinner looking out over the floodplain was a real treat. The temperature up here this time of year is amazing. The heat of the day disappears quickly making space for pleasant evenings and cool mornings. I could stay here for weeks fishing the mornings and watching the sunset over dinner.

After breakfast I had one last chance to catch dinner. I’d had a fisherman’s sleep: restless and dream filled. I arrived at the crossing to find a crusty old bloke from the day before. He’d pulled some in already and I waded in next to him to test out some lures. I got to study his technique as he hooked a few more. Compared to the enthusiasm of my usual fishing buddies this bloke was a tad subdued. Maybe his pacemaker needs an adjustment. 



He didn’t even move later in the morning when the croc came in close then dived out of sight under water. Guess he thinks that he’s had a good innings. Under the silent tutelage of “Old Smokey” I went on to land 3 of my own 40cm, 51cm and 60cm. The biggest became dinner.

Just as I was leaving a bloke pushed a stroller down to the water’s edge on the opposite side of the crossing. He began to cast, leaving his 1 year old strapped in the pram a few meters behind. Territory childcare.