Inside the notorious outback bar that inspired a Chili Peppers song
‘Nearly 21 and everyone’s a sailor/coming up strong at the Animal Bar’.
So go the lyrics to the song Animal Bar by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, a track that has immortalised a small, raucous pub in the far north fishing town of Karumba, Queensland.
Lead singer Anthony Kiedis, inspired by what he called a “one road dirt town where they don’t get rain for 10 months,” wrote the song about frustration and waiting for change for the band’s 2006 album, Stadium Arcadium.
The furniture is screwed down at the Animal Bar ... or at least some of it is.
Still, most Australians have never heard of the bar, which sits at the top of Karumba’s main boat ramp, always ready for incoming crew from the myriad prawn trawlers that cruise across the Gulf of Carpentaria.
Animal Bar has a storied past and a mean reputation. No one seems to know when exactly the bar was built, but it’s been the place to drink away your blues and celebrate your big catches in Karumba since the 1970s. Ask around town about the bar and you’ll likely hear the seemingly tall tale about how everything in the place is bolted down, from its chairs and tables through to its ashtrays, because when the fishermen come in and get on the grog, all hell breaks loose.
Well, it’s not a tall tale. It’s true.
No shirt, no shoes, no service? Not at the Animal Bar
“Back in the 80s you just had to wear your jocks,” explains former bartender Margie Smith of the bar’s popularity. She came to Karumba for a holiday and ended up working at bar for years. “That’s what the men wore at sea when they worked, so they would just come in off the boats, no shirts, no shoes.”
Smith confirmed that everything was bolted to the floor, but says the brawls were always resolved quickly. “They never lasted long. It was just like this big rush, and then it was over, you know?”
Mainly, her memories of Animal Bar are positive – a place for hard workers to clock off and enjoy themselves. It was a place where you didn’t need a surname, or even a real name. “There was Sharkie and Geronimo and Popeye,” she explains. “Eskimo and Mad Mick.”
If the trawlers had had good catches, money flew. Smith recalls a $6000 bar tab ($20,000 today) being set by one skipper.
Prawn trawlers in the Karumba harbour.Credit: Alamy
“If a boat had a really good catch, the skipper would order ‘Barramundi Juice’ for the whole crew – every white spirit on the shelf, a nip of creme de menthe and then a dash of milk. It was kind of like this murky green, cloudy sort of thing.” The crew drank Barra Juice until dawn and had plenty of the tab left over in the morning. Smith – honest soul that she is – gave the skipper his change.
While Barramundi Juice might not be the drink du jour anymore, Animal Bar keeps it no-frills. Visitors can choose from a simple lineup of classic Aussie tap beers (you’re in Queensland, go with XXXX), stubbies of the classics, a small selection of wines and the usual spirits lined up against the wall – Jack and Bundy clearly the most popular. This isn’t the pub for a craft beer palate, this is where you quench a thirst.
When we visited Animal Bar, it was a stinker. Arriving in mid-February, The Wet was in full swing – 100 per cent humidity, a temperature gauge topping 35 degrees and an angry-looking storm brewing off the coast, its thunder rumbling ominously.
Caught in the far North’s tropical climate, Karumba is hot and dry over the winter, unbearably hot and humid in the summer. If you want it comfortable, go mid-year. But if you can handle it, a far north summer season is the quintessential Australian experience.
Animal Bar is designed for this kind of weather. Walking in across patchy grass and passing picnic tables that would later be packed with punters, wet and sticky thanks to spilled drinks and near-constant condensation, we realise that the place has no walls – the only part that closes is the front bar, with heavy-duty roller doors that say “Time To Go”, tastefully decorated with two hands waving the middle finger. The floor is tiled, no doubt for easy cleaning.
The message delivered at closing time is not subtle.
Steel ceiling fans whirr wildly, desperately trying to cool that steamy heat. But they’re not working nearly as hard as they’ll have to later on – when we arrive on a Friday at lunch time, the place is empty. This isn’t common or uncommon – as owner and operator of Karumba Lodge (which encompasses Animal Bar) Carly Child explains, Animal Bar is at the mercy of the trawlers. “Friday nights are when the place gets rowdy, but also during prawn season.”
We order two schooners of XXXX (what else?) and settle in at one of the low barrels that double as tables. They are, I notice, bolted to the floor. But the chairs are not – although everything is unfussy and sturdy, like if it was thrown at the wall, life would go on.
A large mural adorns the left of the bar, a friendly crocodile (the Norman river just out the front is teeming with them, and it’s not uncommon to spot them along the dock) and a pot-bellied cow having a beer as a female bartender contends with a man trying to take her singlet off with a fishing rod. It’s the kind of mural no-one would get away with these days, but it feels like it should be heritage-listed here.
Aside from the art, Animal Bar is no-frills – there are a bunch of scribbles on the walls from tourists and locals, and in the middle, two pool tables that look worse for wear but are nonetheless kept pristine are taken up by groups of locals.
It’s not as wild as it used to be – Margie Smith had a story of a local who drove his car right into the bar itself, and Mick Jones (not the aforementioned Mad Mick, another Mick), the local cop in town during the early 2000s, recalled someone doing wheelies on his motorcycle against the wall. These days, Animal Bar abides by the more stringent liquor licensing and police laws, Child says, plus fishing regulations are tougher than they were back in the ’80s, so they see less of those packed crowds (and less $20,000 bar tabs).
But the memories live on. Smith remembers Prince Charles and Princess Diana’s wedding, when the whole town gathered in their Sunday best to watch the ceremony… still without shoes. It’s these memories that feel alive in Animal Bar. Every scuff on the wall has a story, every scratch on the bar a wild tale. You visit not for what it is in that moment, but for everything it’s been in the past.
The details
Fly
Rex flies daily from Cairns into Normanton, which is 45 minutes south of Karumba. See rex.com.au
Drive
Starting in Cairns or Townsville is your best bet if you plan to drive to Karumba. It’s around an eight to nine-hour drive, so consider staying overnight in Mount Surprise or Georgetown.
Stay
It doesn’t get friendlier or more welcoming than Karumba Point Holiday and Tourist Park, which accommodates caravan travellers and those looking for self-contained cabins. Don’t miss the daily happy hour!
Tour
Keen fishermen and novices alike will enjoy cruising the Gulf with Mick’s Fishing Adventures. If you’re lucky, you might even be enjoying barramundi for dinner.
Eat
Karumba is known for its spectacular sunsets, so be sure to grab a bite at Sunset Tavern, which has uninterrupted views of the horizon and makes the most of it with breezy outdoor tables and even an Instagram-worthy wooden swing for snaps.
The writer travelled at her own expense.
Sign up for the Traveller Deals newsletter
Get exclusive travel deals delivered straight to your inbox. Sign up now.