One of the strangest things for me is to meet someone you know from one part of your life in a completely different part of the world. Especially if you’ve never been to a place before, it’s a little odd to meet someone familiar there. But it’s also a bit comforting – even though you have no idea what the place is going to be like, at least you’ll recognize a face. In September we flew up to Darwin, in the Top End of Australia, to meet our friend Matt there. I knew he was going to be there waiting for us in the airport, but it was almost amazing to see him there, looking at home in his sandals and binocular tan. We had arranged to meet, but ‘See you in Darwin’ seemed sort of like saying “See you in Estonia.”
The first thing you notice when you get off the plane in Darwin is that it is hot. Even in the spring, it was typically hitting 35-40 C during the day (that’s about 95-104 F, for the metrically challenged). Matt had spent the last four weeks birding in Borneo, Malaysia, and northern Queensland and was finishing his trip off with a week in the Top End. We promptly left the airport and began our 3 hour journey south to Katharine Gorge. We stopped at the markets in Palmerston where we had our first taste of Thai Paw Paw salad. Spicy, but very delicious. From there, we drove directly to Nitmiluk National Park in Katherine Gorge, pitched our tent amongst the grazing wallabies, and went straight to sleep. Our plan for Katherine was to paddle up the gorge, spend the night, and then paddle back. Our ‘canoes’ turned out to be more like wide sea kayaks than canoes, which made for some cozy paddling, particularly since we had to fit large barrels (to keep our stuff dry) between our legs. Nevertheless, we were happy to be in our kayaks and not on the tour boats with the loud speakers, since the tour boats can only go to the second gorge.
Paddling up the gorge was excellent. We went by beaches with signs that said, “Danger: Crocodile Nesting Area”, but didn’t see any live crocodiles. Fortunately, these were the nesting sites of freshwater crocodiles (‘freshies’), which are generally non-aggressive unless you mess with their nest. We also saw several wonderful birds, including Rainbow Bee-eaters, a Chestnut-Quilled Rock Pigeon, Fairy Martins, and Pheasant Coucals.
The paddling was relatively easy, even when we were going upstream, but portaging the kayaks between the gorges is hard work, particularly because the kayaks weigh as much as a small elephant. I was certainly glad that it wasn’t my own personal kayak that I was dragging over the large, unstable rocks. Thankfully, you don’t have to portage between the first and second gorges, but some of the later portages were hard. Some even took 45 minutes or more! Ugh. Whatever thoughts we had of paddling up to further, more secluded campsites were quashed by a series of increasingly difficult and lengthy portages past the sixth gorge. But the scenery was worth it – particularly in the furthest gorge we visited, which was set deep between towering sandstone walls.
We camped in the fifth gorge, at a very lovely campsite called Smitt Rock. Sharing the gorge (but across the river) was a family with four rowdy teenage boys who really enjoyed jumping off the rocks into the gorge. We sort of expected the parents to suggest that they be a little bit quieter, but the parents were busy having romantic paddling trips by themselves. It was actually quite funny. The father, who was rather muscular, would sit astride the stern of the canoe (they actually had canoes) as if he were a gondolier, and paddle his mistress around to secluded spots in the gorge. She sat in the front (without a paddle, which meant the father had to work extra hard to keep the going in a straight direction), and they went of on secret escapades while their sons did cannonballs into the water. Although we would have preferred a quiet gorge to ourselves, the entertainment value was top-notch. In fact, the next morning, they were also paddling back down and out of the gorge. There was a bit of a breeze, and two of the boys thought that they should try to make a sail out of their sleeping bag and canoe paddle. Needless to say, they were most unsuccessful, but we had to bite our lips to keep from laughing too much when they came within earshot. Their conversation went something like this:
Boy 1: “What’s wrong with you, mate? It’s not that hard to make a sail.”
Boy 2: “Dude, it’s hard for me. I don’t know which end [of the sleeping bag] to use.”
Meanwhile, their canoe was heading sideways into the bank.
We meandered our way back down the gorge, and just before the end of our trip, we managed to see a freshwater crocodile. The view from our very low kayaks was great, and we managed to see it before it slipped under water to get away from the massive tour boat heading toward it.
Despite the difficult portaging and the bogan campers, we had a lovely time in Katherine, and were happy to have the cool water to help us adjust to the 35 degree C days in the Top End. Our only major issue was that I left an entire set of clothes in the bathroom at the campsite on the first night. I didn’t realize I had done so until we got back the next day, but they were already gone, and had not been returned to the lost property. It wasn’t a big deal, but I still couldn’t believe that I went into the bathroom to change clothing, and walked out without my clothes. Who does that? Me apparently, and not just once…
Unfortunately, the people at Nitmiluk were most unhelpful when I was trying to locate my clothing. So, while I can highly recommend paddling Katherine Gorge, I wouldn’t recommend that you leave anything in the restrooms, because you will have a hard time getting it back.
We also saw Cockatiels, a tree full of flying foxes (apparently they’re not bats, but they look like enormous owl-sized bats when they fly around at night), Australian Figbird, a couple having some kinky foreplay involving slapping in the front seat of their van, and the scenic Pine Creek sewage ponds. Why did we go to the sewage ponds you might also ask? Why, to see birds of course. At the sewage ponds, we saw Rajah Shelducks, Australasian Pratincole, Black-fronted Dotterels to name just a few.
We decided to celebrate our birding victory with a dinner at the only place in town, the local pub. We found out it was steak night, which sounded excellent. The woman asked us which cut of meat we wanted. Then, she piled them all on a plate, handed it to us, pointed to her right and said, “Grill’s over there.” Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything. I’ve certainly never had the opportunity to cook my own meal at a restaurant before, which is probably why I didn’t do such a great job cooking our steaks. They were good, but definitely on the very pink-red side. The problem was that I’ve never actually cooked a steak before, and so all I could think of was my Uncle Joe’s steak-cooking mantra: sip and flip. Essentially, you just leave the steak on its side long enough for you to take a sip of beer, and then you flip it. I generally like my steak on the rare side, so I thought this might be a good plan for me. Unfortunately, the steaks were a bit thicker than your average steak, so I ended up going back to the grill after a few bites of my steak in an effort to have my steak a little less rare.
