Crocs, pigs, fishermen and politicians

Just when I thought it was safe to go in the water . . .

We were always talking about crocs in the Territory. I never spotted one loose on my front lawn, but they often came up in conversation. Certainly the local NT News could barely go a day without mentioning a sighting. But we weren’t often seen fending off the creatures with a big stick as we sipped our beer and wine at the waterside Nightcliff pub, or drank lattes at the Cornucopia cafe.

But, now that I am in Queensland, we don’t talk crocs for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Things are a little different. There has been much talk of those human predators of late (politicians), but that’s because we go to the polls tomorrow and it’s compulsory to choose someone, we have to choose someone, to govern this great State of Queensland.  We are Queenslanders after all. Not Australians. Queenslanders. And those particular predators I am referring to have been stalking local constituents on every street corner lately, with their balloons and chairs and signs – meeting and greeting, with much shaking of hands, attentive smiles, pretending they care about us for a few minutes, before they eat us up and spit us out once the electioneering finishes.

Anyway, politicians aside, and back to the real crocs, leaving the metaphorical ones aside, the trusty Courier Mail put me on to this story, (via cairns.com.au).  Apparently a fisherman was stalked by a 4m crocodile while trapped in a fishing hut in far north Queensland during the recent floods (on Dinah Island in the Staaten River).

Four metres – now that’s the size of your average family sedan.

The guy was in the hut, trapped by flood waters, hunched over a few meagre supplies on the top of a billiard table, where he was trying keep his feet dry, and watching the water levels rise. If that wasn’t enough to make you panic, he then spotted a crocodile swimming slowly nearby. Croc eyes apparently met human eyes. Super panic must have set in at that point.

But the croc had plenty of patience. It dropped silently back into the flood waters below the hut and lurked there, waiting for its human prey to drop through the cracks. Add to this wild pigs running up and down the verandah of the hut, snuffling at the glass doors, trying to get in, and you have the stuff of rolling stock  nightmares.  No phone, no communication in or out.

I tell you what, you should tell your overseas friends. They think we all have crocodiles in our backyards, snakes in the toilet and poisonous spiders creeping over our laptops – and they are RIGHT.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Crocs and toads

Just when you thought it was safe to go in the water again, the NT News reports that a fisherman spotted a big saltie out near East Point. (May 2, 2011, Croc stalks angler). East Point is a nice place to walk along the foreshore by the sparkling Timor Sea – or was. http://www.ntnews.com.au/article/2011/05/02/229151_ntnews.html

More croc spotting:

I saw a couple of small, yellow skinned crocs on the Victoria River, south west of Katherine en route to the Kimberly,  during our extended Easter road trip. We didn’t expect to see many crocs about as it’s the end of the Wet season, but when I say ‘about’ I mean easily viewable on the side of the river bank. But of course you shouldn’t be fooled, those beasts are always there under the water, lurking, watching, silent and deadly, eyes on the prize, waiting for the next silly tourist to wave an arm about over the side of the cruise boat. It astounds me that more barramundi fishermen and women aren’t gobbled up by those well adapted riparian killing machines.

And the toad news:

I only recently learnt that freshwater crocs in the Victoria River are being posioned by cane toads that have moved right across the Territory and into Western Australia. They don’t seem to be affecting the larger salties though, from what I can tell in this report: http://www.hermonslade.org.au/projects/HSF_07_10/hsf_07_10.html.

Cane toads everywhere now. I  see them squashed and smelly on the roadside, rather than hopping around. But there are plenty on the move at night time, especially in the National Parks.  Ugly things they are, and so are crocs, but they’re all part of nature. Maybe we look ugly to them.

Captain’s Log

It is a month since I reported for Darwin duty and log writing.  Hopefully this neglect will not continue and regular contributions will continue as expected.

The reason for the lack of input is not due, as you might  suppose, to tropical fever, a couple of broken wrists, or mechanical failure.  The only reason I can possibly suggest is  exhaustion after catering to the needs of southern visitors, both  family and friend. (Don’t get me wrong – how good was it to have them here! Come back! Come back! Please stay another day in Paradise!).

Also, the Captain and crew were diverted temporarily to the Douglas Daly River for  a protracted long weekend. This required much preparation (how many eskies are we taking?), and deprivations to be endured – eg suffering around a camp fire in the dark of night with a glass or red in hand under a spectacular milky way, or swimming in a pristine tropical stream, etc. So, there is no doubt I have been busy and unable to keep proper records.

On another matter, I must make mention once again about how impressed I am with the local wildlife. I was reminded of the need for constant vigilance when it comes to our friends who have adapted themselves so superbly to living by the water’s edge. (Was this one really found in my backyard the other day?)

How adapted can you be to Darwin life – these creatures like temperatures between 30-33C (Darwin’s temperature all year round). They arrive and leave without a ripple in the water, silent and cunning. They scare the bloody hell out of one and all.

Healthy respect is important I think, if you want to live another day in the north, visit yet another market, or spend another day watching the sun set over the Timor Sea.

You said what?!

Taken from the tinnie – tales of fish, the radio and territory madness

Hi, this is Robyn’s Excellent Adventure, coming to you from latitude12°28′S, and longitude 130°50′E.

In my search for quintessential Darwin culture I’ve found one of the best things – Tales from the Tinny. This is my latest most favourite thing – it’s no longer the markets, no longer Lee Point, it’s The Tinny!

Yep, ABC radio, 105.7, Darwin Radio. Nice and early on a Saturday morning (from 5am, phew! Only for the angler hearted).

And my co-culture colleague, Esther, agrees with me, well agrees that Tales of the Tinny is great. Who wants Sydney-centric Radio National I say, when you can have the local lingo – podded, streamed or served up silently in elegant sans serif.

And the website is fantastic! Almost as much fun as the radio show itself. Check out the audio options.

Now, this is not as you might think, only a show for fishing fanatics, although if you start with the videos on the website,  and see the fellows reeling in barra from the back of a boat, breaking their rods in battle, and tackling the tuna, you might think there was nothing in this early-riser’s show for your everyday-run-of-the-mill-sleepy-head-office-worker. Well, watch out blog-a-holics! There are recipes: fish with herbs, fish with noodles, fish with kaffir limes; cod with parsley, trevally with chilli and Brasilian moqueca fish stew with coriander and coconut milk. Yum.

And articles: articles about croc catching and crocs near primary schools,  fishermen lost at the pub and thieves who can’t keep the noise down when they wheel away stolen grog in a squeeky wheelie bin and,  generally, tales  about the Territory that show you what a fab place this is and why aren’t you up here with me? with your fishing rod?

If I haven’t lost you already, either to the ABC site, or to the boat ramp at Lee Point (mind the crocs and don’t clean your fish by the side of the river), then read this spooky tip from the gurus on my new most favourite radio show. And this tip must be true, I heard it on the radio.

Here we go: when the sun rises within an hour of the moon rising, usually about 4 days after the new moon, then fishing will be excellent that day.

Hooroo from latitude12°28′S, and longitude 130°50′E!

And happy fishing listeners!

Want more fishing?

See what lengths some territorians (at the ABC) will go to, to improve fishing performance.

Sleepless in Darwin

Well that was a sleepless night! And I say that as I squash ants that crawl across my trusty Mac laptop, writing my journal. It wasn’t the heat or the rain that kept me awake last night, or dreams of crocodiles (which happened the night before), no it was the frogs carrying on all night in the backyard. They are quiet now of course, now that the day is here and I am supposed to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed leaping out of bed for work.

But on the positive side, I think I have won the battle with the ants and giant cockroaches that partied in my pantry while I was away for a month. Had to throw out half the contents of the cupboard. Everything that wasn’t in a really really really tightly sealed plastic container went into the bin. Those cockroaches, I tell you, they lean on the sides of a jar of mango chutney or a tin of beetroot, their arrogant wavy feelers pointing at me, and say, well, what you going to do about me, eh? They even crunched holes in some of the plastic bags to find what they wanted. So out it all went: rice, cornflour, cereal, chips, biscuits, pasta. You name it, they munched it, pooed in it or bred in it. There are still some cockroaches and a colony of Daddy Long Legs in the bathroom to be dealt with, but they can wait.

The mildew removal is another matter. I have four pairs of shoes to either clean up or send to the tip: they are no good as they are, all furry with green organisms. And I had to throw out one mildew coatedpillow from the bedroom, the other three remaining ones will probably be okay with a turn in the washing machine. Two survived the process last night anyway; let’s see if the third makes it today. (Go AWAY ants. . . creeping over my screen while I type . . . they are a real nuisance . . there’s no food in there, only zeros and ones – 0101010101010101010101000001111.) Ah well, off to work in my thongs, through the puddles . . .

Kakadu

Wetland lily

Wetlands

Jabiru is a Portuguese word

Sea eagle

Kakadu croc

Sunrise and magpie geese

Crocodiles

More on crocs – can you believe this picture – a crocodile in a backyard spa.

http://tools.ntnews.com.au/admin/custom_images//gallery/remote/2009/01/09/31535.jpg

And the rangers pull crocs out of the local drains!

http://tools.ntnews.com.au/photos/photo_gallery_popup.php?category_id=595

Easter

I am scratching away at insect bites – mosquito, sandfly and midge bites – they get worse by the hour . AAAhhhh!. Bastards. That’s what you get when you go to camping at the end of the Wet season in Kakadu National Park.

The tent we stayed in was massive. It only took about 15 minutes to erect but another half-an-hour to drive in the tent pegs. The ground was not as bad as the bedrock I’ve tried to pitch a tent on at Jindabyne in the Snowy Mountains, but pretty close. I have blisters on my hands from the hammering. Despite the roominess of our accommodation, or maybe because of it , we weren’t safe from insects. On Sunday night scouts snuck in and feasted on me. I had a restless night anyway – the sweat dripped down my back while I lay on my mat on the floor – ‘Come here sweet breeze, come here!’. No relief from rain, dingos howled in the camp – I was really scared! One of the dogs ran really close to my part of the tent – I’m panicking thinking there’s only a bit of mosquito net between me and that wild beast. They were out hunting and their howls are spine chilling, and oddly miserable. (It suddenly flashed across my mind that for sure a dingo took that baby!) The moon was full, as it always is at Easter, but there was too much of it shining through the tent windows, plus the lights in the campground – how could anyone sleep – but I still enjoyed it. I’m some twisted masochist I guess. Can you believe there were wild ponies wandering around the camp ground too? We saw their dung all over the place, right next to our tent as well. Who knows what’s out there! We had so many visitors – even kangaroos.

Helen forgot the camp stove so we cooked our meals, toasted our bread and boiled water for tea and coffee on the communal burners. A great way to meet people. You were guaranteed of having a conversation while you stood and stirred. The most interesting person was a little boy from NSW with a tiny lizard in his hand. He was travelling with his grandmother around Australia. He did his school work on the way – although Nana forgot on Wednesday, but he didn’t remind her. And talk about community – one day we played cricket with Helen’s son behind the tents – well kids came from everywhere. Can you believe I was telling a couple of the girls how to play cricket? ‘Watch the ball onto the bat, stand side on…’ Yes, life is stranger than fiction.

The boat ride on the Yellow Waters River was a highlight – saw two crocs – one chasing after the other – was really glad our boat was big. We saw one those little silver tinnies out there with 6 guys in it, all fishing for barramundi – one standing up on the bow wobbling and reeling in a big fella in on his line -sure to tip over – croc bait I reckon. Those boats are only meant to take about 3 people.

And so many birds in Kakadu! Wow – herons, jabirus, magpie geese, sea eagles, kites, rainbow bee eaters – and they’re only the birds I can remember the names of.

One of the best places for birds was a place we dropped into on the way back. Fogg Dam, just out of Darwin. Masses of birds -and there was a warning not to walk on the dam wall (which was also the roadway) as a crocodile has been seen walking across from one side to the other. AAhh. I was a bit nervous when I got out and took photos on that strip of road. I didn’t want to be the next croc statistic, and there’ve been a few over the last months. The tour guide reminded us that there are about 70,000 crocs in the territory.

Now I’m going to look for some more cream to put on those insect bites – a week later and I still look like I’ve got the plague. I’ve got red welts all over me.

Litchfield National Park

Cruising down the highway – (can you hear the song? yes born to be wild . . .) – heading to Adelaide – and there’s Litchfield National Park. The first time I went in the Wet the volume of water coming out of Wangi Falls was massive – the most water I’ve ever seen in any Australian river. The falls are so powerful they set off a really strong wind – it’s wonderful in the heat of the day – the spray is glorious. We didn’t want to move away from it. But we did. We walked over the top of the falls. That was some sweaty walk. No swimming afterwards though – as you can see there were other occupants of the pool.

Crocs about?

Wangi Falls

Top of Wangi Falls

Buley rockpool

Crocodiles

Out there in the bay, in that blue blue ocean, just beyond the beach and the wharf, yes out there where I’m pointing, they have traps filled with pig meat. The park rangers cruise out there in their tinnies and check for crocs. I’m happy if the rangers do their rounds and check for predators – I’m very happy if they keep those massive jaws away from me and any other tourists.

I walked along the beach near East Point the other day, one Sunday morning. As usual it was like being in paradise, sun shining, palms waving in the breeze, clean air – gees it’s hard living up here, but I kept wondering – was that a rock or a croc? Silly. But we are on the edge of a dangerous world out here, truly.

Yes, you southerners laugh. A little girl was taken not long ago by a croc. She was swimming in a river not far out of Darwin. You’d think that would only happen in the days before TV and air con and the internet. But the rains swell the creeks and the salties venture upstream. They, the crocs, wander about a bit – it’s their country after all.

We creatures of little brain underestimate nature. We live in a fool’s paradise – I’m spraying Aeroguard on my legs and arms before I go out at night, thinking it will keep away the mosquitos and I won’t be a victim of dengue fever, but, well, don’t get too comfortable. If snakes can eat pet dogs in suburban backyards, and termites can eat your house, who knows what else is lurking out there beyond the screen door, not counting those cute little lizards that crawl up the windows and snap up moths and insects with frightening speed. Hungry little beasts.

And watch out for those dragonflies – they bring the tourists – they do. They came in the same week. They’re all over the place now, tourists and dragonflies. And the tourists, they’re off-loading themselves from dust-covered 4WD troop carriers in Mitchell Street, eating in the restaurants, lolling around the esplanade, asking me where Knuckey Street is. Meanwhile the dragonflies swarm and flutter, pretending they are leaves on the end of dead grass stalks. If you sit motionless and wait, they will come to inspect your sandal – we watch each other in silence.