Kakadu strikes again

Sunday 12

We didn’t get much sleep. I think we would of lost 3 litres of water in sweat from cooking under the sheets. Swatting the air frantically from time to time in a mad frenzy after hearing the high pitch noise from a mosquito coming in for the kill. Minimal sleep and it had taken its toll on us, we were shattered. Relief from the ambush came as the sun popped its head up. I laid there looking around. The ceiling and walls of our tent were covered in mosquitos. The ground is dusty and our feet turn black daily – we use wet-wipes to ensure we’re not bringing dust and grime into our RTT. I decided to use a wet-wipe to try and kill, then clean the mosquitos from the tent. ‘What a brutal night”.

Everyone else in the campground I’m sure would of had similar stories. The billabong was only thirty meters from camp. We walked down to take a look. It was pretty, but if I had my way again, I would not of camped here.

The person who wrote that review must have been joking.

We cruised up to the visitor centre to have a look. Our wounds from last night still giving us grief. We wandered around checking out a café and local shop selling Aboriginal art works and other bits and pieces. The Rangers were back burning close by and it had triggered off the fire alarm. The place quickly filled up with smoke as we were departing.

We were told about the crocodiles feeding on fish at high tide by Sue who we had met a few days prior – she said it was a highlight to her trip so we went to check it out.

Ubirr is a place where they have a ford that crosses the South Alligator river. It connects Kakadu to Arnhem land on the Western side. There is only one crossing called Cahill’s Crossing, but it is only accessible to cross at low tide. At high tide, the fish make their way across the ford and up stream. The crocs know this and sit and wait to ambush the fish.

We arrived to see a swarm of croc’s. Hard to count as they were in and out of view as they tried to catch the fish swimming past, but I’d say in between fifteen to twenty crocodiles around the ford. Incredible to see them in action, hunting in the wild. Not phased at all by human presence – they put on a show for all to see. There were croc’s of all sizes. They had a pecking order that you could see was well established. Nearest the ford were the larger crocs and as you made your way up stream, the crocs got smaller. Some of the larger crocs had scars up their bodies from territorial fights. One even had an old fishing lure in its eye. We watched the larger crocs move around as the rest of them were aware of their presence, scurried out of their way. They would wait in ambush with there jaws slightly open ready to snap down on anything that came within striking distance. Chomp! They would catch a fish with a loud crunch as their undeniably strong teeth came together – holding their heads up out of the water and swallowing whole. Only feet from us it was incredible to watch. We would of sat there easily for an hour or so, admiring these superior predators at work.

There were a couple of guys fishing between the rocks – casting their lures out and reeling them in before they jagged a croc. They were hoping for a Barramundi to lurch up and grab the bait whilst making its way through the deadly water. I don’t know what they were thinking! They had no bites whatsoever. I’m sure the last thing a fish would want to do while darting in between deadly teeth was to eat? Even if they did get a bite, the crocs would of snapped the fish up for themselves I’m sure. One of them got their lure stuck on a croc’s shoulder. He was fighting it, but the croc wasn’t budging. It just took his line on a wild ride out. He battled the croc, but a couple of death rolls and a dive below and the line snapped. The croc took off upstream with a lure clearly visible in its shoulder. I wanted to tell the bloke what an idiot he was and push him in. But I kept my anger within and thought that it probably happens all the time. I’m sure the crowd of spectators were thinking the same as I was.

The sun was nailing us where we were sitting so we moved down onto the ramp leading into the ford. There was a huge croc waiting in ambush only feet away. I didn’t want to get too close as there is always a chance of a strike. Amazing to be this personal with an a-pex predator while it was hunting, so I stood and snapped away on the camera. A ginger Pomme with one of those stupid man hairbands made his way up close to take a photo. He sat crossed legged on the ramp about two feet away from the waters edge and looked down at his phone. His girlfriend looked worried and said, “Josh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” and told him to move, but he looked at her and gave a smile as if she was the stupid one. It was the wrong time and place to be cocky mate, I said to myself. And his cockiness was pouring from him. I don’t know if it was lack of knowledge or arrogance towards these crocodiles, but whatever it was he was asking for trouble. I watched the croc’s closely. They were huge, easily big enough to take this guy. If one lunged up, there was no way he would have time to react or move as he was on the ground. His head in his phone. These predators arn’t stupid and with this guy presenting himself as he was – small and close enough to make a strike – it was only time. I shouldn’t say it, but secretly I wanted him to get a scare or pulled in, to teach him a lesson and give me an amazing front seat view. We left with him still sitting there. I wonder if he was taken… who knows. I do know that people get taken up in Kakadu by croc’s, so if your up that way, be croc smart guys.

“That was my highlight so far this trip” Cath said,
“Yes this place has touched me in a way I haven’t felt before. Its just sensational”.
“Were definitely coming back” We both agreed.

The heat was pounding down. Cath found a public swimming pool in Jabiru on the map. Only four dollars to have a swim, she embraced it and dived in. While she cut laps and cooled off I sat and arranged to get a new windscreen in Darwin. It had a chip in it before I left, but all the corrugations hadn’t been kind to it and a crack running up the windscreen had appeared, so it was time to get another one before we took on the Gibb River Road through the Kimberley’s. The rig was due for an oil change too, so whilst under the cover of shade in a deck lounge I organised the maintenance.

As Cath was passing she whispered out “Babe can you grab my shaver please?”
“You what!?”
“My shaver, for my legs, I finally can have a proper shower!”
“Im not walking in carrying a razor babe no way. Everyone will think I’m weird! I’ll grab your wash bag ok”.
“Thanks.”

With her legs smooth and hair shampooed and conditioned, she was a new woman and we made our way to Two Mile Hole to spend the night. We found camp and set up. Cath fired up dinner early and I had time to do a couple of bits on the ute. Luke, my younger cousin the legend, had bought me a fishing rod for the trip. I was meant to borrow one of his, but he thought I might catch a monster on the trip with his rod so changed his mind and bought me one. Well I’m not much of a fisherman, never have been, but I thought why the hell not. I rigged up a squid lure, attached a weight and whacked on a hook. I did my best cub scout knot I could think off and made my way down to the river that ran beside camp. Three casts later, I was snagged. A couple of tugs later and CRACK, my line broke. “Darn it”. I had forgotten how to tie any fishing knots from my youth. Defeated I made my way back to the ute. Maybe I’ll wait till I meet someone to show me how to do it.

With time up my sleeve I pulled my bow out. I brought it as I wanted to practice every day on the trip, yet that hasn’t happened. This was the first time in two and a half weeks. I shot some arrows and it made it well worth the room it took up in the ute. A more successful experience to the fishing.

We had a fire pit at camp and with daylight still in bloom we made a small fire. I was hoping that if there was bugs tonight it would help minimise the abundance of them.

With bellies full and the washing up done it was time to have a tea. I pulled out my bush kettle and built a small fire. The most satisfying way to have a tea. With the fire going still we made our way up to bed before the mozzies were out. We sat writing the blog in the safety of our now secured bed – after finding an entrance for the little blood sucking bastards and covering it. We sat for a couple of hours under the orange glow coming in through the window writing. A perfect end to another incredible day in Kakadu.

The Cooks.