By Megan Levy
We've just hit the jackpot. The temperature is nudging 40 degrees on our hike as we scramble over the red sandstone boulders to emerge in front of a small, hidden swimming hole at the base of a waterfall. Our whoops of joy are swallowed by the bush in the vastness of Kakadu National Park. We aren't wearing our togs. Not that it matters. We whip off our boots and, fully clothed, leap straight into the water to escape the belting heat. Later, I slide onto a large rock on the bank and sit in the sun in my sopping clothes, looking out at the towering eucalypts, as a small yabby nips at my toes. This feels like being a kid again.
It's refreshing to pare back a busy life to simply sitting and enjoying the ruggedness of Australia. Our five-day tour through the Northern Territory's outback threw many of these moments at us: of watching a blazing sunset, of cruising between the towering walls of Nitmiluk Gorge as ripples peeled off the front of the boat, or peering at Aboriginal rock art that had been dabbed on the walls tens of thousands of years ago.
Day one of the tour and Warren, our trusty AAT Kings driver and guide, greets his 10 eager charges in Darwin. "It's a pretty cool morning, only 29 degrees at the moment," Warren observes. It's 7.39am. Us folks from down south are quietly melting in this monsoonal strip, which is closer to Singapore than any other capital city in Australia.
On our coach, the air-conditioning set to a pleasant "arctic", we strike out towards Litchfield National Park. Soon the bitumen dissolves into hard-packed dirt as we enter the park, leaving a red dust cloud in our wake.
We bump along to the first of two waterholes we'll visit that day, Wangi Falls. The air here is heaving with dragonflies, a sure sign that the wet season is over. For the Aboriginal owners of this land, Wangi Falls was a place for "women's business", Warren tells us, where the women and young girls would go to talk about the birds and the bees. Men would not venture to the falls for a dip, and we won't be swimming today either. The deluges that swamp this part of Australia also bring perhaps the Northern Territory's most fearsome inhabitants: crocodiles. The park rangers haven't had a chance to trap and relocate the crocs so early in the season, so the water is off limits.
The man I soon see dangling his young son by the legs off the edge of the walking bridge is not technically breaking the rules, I guess, but he's also not going to win a father-of-the-year award. In this clobbering heat, it's perhaps understandable. The boy has dropped one of his thongs into the water and is trying to fetch it. The prospect of wearing closed-in shoes would be too much for me as well.
The thundering Florence Falls, about 30 kilometres up the road in the same national park, is where Aboriginal men would take the young boys to discuss the facts of life, we're told. It's also a pleasant place to dive in and wash the heat off the day. Warren explains the difference between a freshwater crocodile and a saltwater crocodile. "Freshies are like wallabies with teeth. He will be the one running away from you. The salty will be running towards you," he says. Both species are found in fresh water, like this swimming hole, but they can't climb up the rocks so we're safe to duck and dive.
Then it's on to Wildman Wilderness Lodge, where we spend the night on the edge of the Mary River System, one of the most crocodile-infested river systems in Australia. The following morning, we board Captain Scott's river boat and he is delivering instructions on how to sniff out a croc. "If you get a sweet, stagnant, salty smell, that's probably a crocodile," he says. Our noses aren't needed though to locate the sharp, serrated back and open jaws of a three-metre salty lying amidst the freshwater mangroves.
This river system is teeming with wildlife. A whistling kite perches at the top of a tree, chomping a fish it has plucked seconds earlier from the water. The fish's tail is still flicking, a red blob of blood visible on the bird's beak. A jabiru, the black and white stork that stabs its prey with its beak, takes flight ahead of us as we cruise along the channel. An egret splays its feet to balance, ever so delicately, on a lily pad. "I've seen a sea eagle swoop down and pick up its prey by its head," says Scott, who reckons he has just about the best office going. He's probably right.
You can almost feel time in the neighbouring Kakadu National Park, our next stop on the tour. Indigenous Australians have lived here for more than 50,000 years in what is among the oldest living cultures on earth. The boffins at UNESCO have granted Kakadu dual world heritage listing, both for its natural beauty and its cultural value.
We soar over the north-eastern corner of the park on an early morning scenic flight with Kakau Air to try to grasp of the size of this place. The park changes dramatically within the space of a few kilometres, from the stone country's high, rocky escarpment to the waterlogged floodplains and the East, West and South Alligator Rivers. The rivers were named by Lieutenant Phillip Parker King who, back in1820, saw the resident crocodiles and mistakenly believed them to be alligators. His error is now etched in history. We're here right at the start of the dry season, and the scenery is not always so lush. An absence of rain from April to November turns the landscape brown and crunchy. "She breathes in and out, and the cycle continues. It's what makes it so unique," Warren says.
In the late afternoon, we visit Ubirr, a short drive from our base that night at Jabiru. Aboriginal rock paintings are splashed across many of the walls here, some dating back a staggering 20,000 years. Some are of animals, a sort of instruction guide, if you like, of food sources in the area. The fierce red paints that have withstood the abrasiveness of time were made from mixing ochre with blood. Just up the track we find a painting of a Tasmanian Tiger, which used to roam in these parts. "These walls are the family album for thousands of years," says Warren. As the afternoon fades we scramble up to a rocky outcrop for a front row seat to a ferocious sunset over the surrounding floodplains.
The next day at Nourlangie, south of Ubirr, we examine shelters where the Indigenous Bininj people worked, cooked and painted. There are grinding holes visible everywhere where food preparation had worn down the sandstone over centuries. These remnants of times gone by leave a lasting impression on us, just as they have in the rock. On the walls are hand prints, made tens of thousands of years ago by someone who placed their hand on the wall and sprayed ochre paint over it. This is not about ownership though, we're told, but to show that that person belonged to the land. As Mick "Crocodile" Dundee tried to explain in the movie, parts of which were filmed right here: Arguing over the ownership of the land is "like two fleas arguing over who owns the dog".
The coursing Katherine River has also left its mark on the land, carving through the rock to form the beautiful Nitmiluk Gorge. Our accommodation, at the Indigenous-owned Cicada Lodge, is perched right on the edge of the gorge. One evening we board a boat and cruise through two of the system's 13 gorges, devouring a delicious three-course meal cooked on the barbecue at the back of the boat as the towering walls blush pink in the fading sunlight.
It's a stunning scene matched in beauty the following morning, when we pick our way up a dark, rocky path to watch the sun rise on our final day of the trip. Sacrificing a sleep-in is well worth it for this view. The dawn breaks, flickers of red and yellow on the horizon, the stillness broken only by the odd bird flitting by. Five days out here, and our city lives feel so very far removed.
Then we pile onto the bus and begin our journey back to Darwin, detouring briefly to Edith Falls for one final dip in an outback swimming hole. It hits 40 degrees as we strike out on a short, sometimes steep hike to reach the upper pool. I've dived into the water in no time flat. I'm wearing my togs this time, and a big kid's grin.
TRIP NOTES
MORE INFORMATION
GETTING THERE
Virgin Australia operates regular daily flights from Sydney and Melbourne to Darwin, where the AAT Kings Kakadu Ancient Secrets tour starts; see virginaustralia.com.au
TOURING THERE
AAT Kings' five-day guided Kakadu Ancient Secrets tour starts at $2850 per person land only, twin share. Highlights include a three-course meal on Katherine River, a safari cruise along the Mary River, and learning about Aboriginal rock art at Ubirr. The price includes all meals, travel in a small group by air-conditioned coach, airport transfers and four-nights' accommodation. Phone 1 300 228 546; see aatkings.com.
Megan Levy was a guest of AAT Kings.
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