Friday 17
I woke up feeling like I’d slept for 1,000 years – the sound of the river running not far from our camp site had provided a soothing lullaby for the night. Previously in Darwin we had the sound of fighter jets, the highway and the lights of the caravan park breaking our sleep. But last night felt like we’d finally turned off and let nature be – well I know I had – apparently Johny had to put up with my snoring as I dreamt of sweet nothings.
The site was full of campers and no one in a hurry. Slowly we all rose from our slumber as the sun did, and packed up for the days activities. The gorges and swimming holes in this part of the world start to lose words after you experience a few. One after the other, they take your breath away in equal measures, and are all equally different.
Today we’re off to Wangi falls and now with experience, we grab our towels and are already dressed for immediate swimming. The croc signs are still here – yet with the NT Crocodile Management program, and the hordes of tourists and buses, we dismiss the threat.
The walk is short and paved – unlike those in Kakadu that were treacherous and only for the fit and fit-minded. Groups of families, school kids, couples and Grey Nomads scream happily as they all plunge into the cool water. What the gorges here lack in warmth, they make up for in scenery. Towering red peaks of rock envelope the clear waters, whilst the waterfalls make a stunning backdrop to the area.
Back in Lawn Hill I struggled to swim the small river as the thought of crocs pervaded my thoughts, even despite other swimmers. Here, Wangi Falls is a large and open swimming hole and the 200m swim across the depths to the waterfalls is daunting, yet achievable. After yesterday’s euphoric waterfall swim, both Johny and I can’t wait for another high.
We head for the waterfall and aim for the centre rocks. They’re slimy with moss and hard to grasp. We catch our breath then swim close and under the towering water that beats down. The force of water is something that cannot be explained, and again wonder what it would be like in wet season.
To the left is another fall and a group of school children climb down the rocks just next to it. Apparently there is a small plunge pool hidden in the rocks above. We wait for the kids to climb down and we make our way up. “How do we swim to the other cave?” Johny asked a lone man lapping up the pool to himself. “What cave?” He looked puzzled. “Where all the kids came from… they can’t have all fitted in there?!” Johny exclaimed. They must have all huddled in the small, yet very deep, diameter. “Wow!” With the rocks just as slippery up here, we dove in feet first. The pool, approximately 1.5m x 1 m in size, fell to at least 2m deep and cascaded over the rocks to flow into the waterfall below. We paddled in the slightly warmer waters to keep afloat and looked back out over the gorge from what felt like a secret hideout.
Swimming back to shore we take a look around and want to pinch ourselves. How are we here? With all the planning, drama and dreams of this place… how are we here?
We decide to dry off in the sun, not prepared to get dressed as we’re off to Sandy Falls this afternoon. I’m missing coffee. My usual weekly morning routine consisted of getting up at 545 for the gym but always rewarded with the best coffee ever. Rich, smooth and never bitter – if you’re ever in North Sydney go and see Matt at Base Gym cafe. The alarm at that time of the morning needs some inspiration, and gosh was that one of them!
I head to the cafe at Wangi Falls. Unlike Kakadu, Litchfield is quite built up and the cafe here, like the pathway, is easily accessible. I’ve pre-made our sandwiches for lunch and order a coffee. I’m fully aware that ordering is a gamble, 50/50. It could be good, or it could be like dirty creek water. And thankfully, it’s the former. A good day!
We head back to the car ready for our next swim – Sandy Falls (We’re hoping it has no relation to the nightmare Sandy Billabong). We arrive early afternoon to a 4WD track that’s long and narrow and we got our first deep creek crossing of the trip, roughly half a meter on the flood sign. It’s lush down here and with the different terrain, we’re hoping we have the gorge all to ourselves. However as we arrive, the small car park is packed out and the camping sites filling up. We park the car and grab our backpack – looks like we’re in for a walk with this one. It’s a 1.7km track to the gorge (3.4km return) and with a keen spirit, head off in just our swimmers and thongs. The track is just as diverse as the road in and winds through the dense bush over boulders, creeks and ungraded paths. We finally arrive and try not to let the flies beat down our spirit. The sand flies here are brutal and the quicker we get in the water, the better. It’s cold water here, or our bodies are just warmer from the walk. Again the large gorge is just simply stunning and it’s hard to take it all in. The rock face seems to tower to the sky and with again some self-persistence, swim out to the waterfalls. The Grey Nomads astonish me daily at their sheer gusto – aged 70, 75 – these couples have a vivacity for life and keep up with those in our 30s. Swimming under the waterfalls and climbing over the mixed terrain to get here, they are an inspiration. I hope I am still that stubborn when I am their age.
We sit on the rock ledge and again look back in awe. We try not to bore you with these blogs on how fantastic everything is – but truly, if you have the time and cash, get yourselves here. It’s ridiculous.
We begin the trek back to our car in the sun and Johny and I chat about the day. Suddenly I scream!! A yellow body is just beside me on the path, inches away, “Snake!” I stupidly froze. Clearly not the smartest at times, I stood there as he thankfully jumped down the bush. “Where?!” Johny asked. “It’s yellow and quite big I think” I worried. “It’s probably a Mulga (brown snake) or a Taipan!” Johny knowledgeably says. As Johny was walking behind me, he tells me to move ahead as he steps backwards and looks about. Not wanting the snake to come back for us, he scopes before crossing the area. “Did you get bitten?” Johny asks. I know I haven’t but we check the backs of my legs just incase as bites from that snake could be, would be, deadly. Flustered we both started to walk quicker, and then a bit faster. Mr. Yellow had given me a fright and although we agreed we’d like to see more wildlife around here, he was just too close for comfort. Remembering the wildlife exhibit in Darwin specifying these types of snakes, I never thought i’d see one in real life.
Back at the car, we’re relieved. Our Trusty Steed feeling more and more like home, we gather ourselves and make our way back down the road.
We’re aiming to be in Katherine in the morning as we’re meeting a mechanic to double check our rear drum. However as we drive East, Johny notices the squeak no longer there. He twists the wheel, accelerates and slows, and the noise just … isn’t there. After the past few days of worrying and agonizing about our bearings, the sound has disappeared. With the new racks replaced, and our probably unnecessary new front bearing, we are now wondering if the squeak was just simply… dirt. We waded through the river crossing a few times and wonder if it was enough to clean underneath and any rubbing material as we have missing bungs on the back of our drum housing. The river crossing was enough to clean these out and any potential dirt that had become lodged.
We drove until sunset, just 150km from Katherine, and set up for the night. We agreed to have another look in the morning, but hoped we’d found this cheap answer to our problems.
As Johny lit a fire, I made dinner under the moonlight. The sky’s gradient was a magical sight – tangerine orange faded to a cerulean blue, the moon dotted the high sky as I sat close to the fire pit in an attempt to escape the mosquitos. Our bodies already covered in bites, the mornings out here usually bring a new head count. But as our trip nears its fourth week, our routine becomes more and more familiar. We wonder how we will look back on these days whilst we jostle back into city life. Perhaps for now though, we should just live in our moment.
The Cooks.
TotallyCookd. 