Alison and I don’t do things by halves. We left Katherine,
procured coffee at the last known source in Pine Creek and motored on into
Yirmikmik. Enjoyed a last lunch of fresh salad, then started walking at 12. Not
the ideal time of day, but it was only going to be an hour or so, and our packs
are ridiculously light. About 10 kg. Walking up north is so good. 4 ks later,
we arrive at Motor Car Falls. The falls still trickle this late in the season
after the massive wet this year, and have a deep plunge pool beneath them. Did
I mention, walking up north is so good? I’m about to jump in when Alison ask
about crocs. I hadn’t given them a second thought, because it really isn’t croc
territory, but the thought is in my head now, and I double check the map.
There’s the South Alligator (definite croc territory), but there’s a set of
falls marked between here and there. Crocs can’t climb, I reassure Alison (and
myself). Besides, there are no big fish for them to eat, and no banks to bask
on. Can I guarantee there are no crocs? Well, um, no, but …. we go swimming.
Nothing eats us. We make a fire and lounge around with cups of tea and ginger
nuts. Well, I eat ginger nuts. They are so good to dip into tea whilst lounging
around rockholes. It’s a vice I haven’t converted Alison to. These vices only
seem to travel one way. I appear to be a vice sponge.
It’s 3pm and we are deliberating whether to camp here or
continue to Kurrundie Falls. The sound of music makes the decision easy. A
large, noisy group turns up (the price you pay for having a walking track) and
we leave. The track ended at Motor Car, so Alison gets her first bush bash.
It’s pretty easy as someone else has been here and there’s an intermittent pad
through the cane grass. We hit the creek and boulder hop up to the falls, where
massive conglomerate boulders block the way. We climb under and over them to
arrive at the base of the falls, a double tiered set plunging into a steep
sided pool. I don’t think this was what my shoulder surgeon ordered, but I seem
to be getting away with it. I am still
doing my exercises. I brought the theraband. All 30g of it.
The boulders weren’t providing any camping space so we
retreated a few 100m to some sandy patches suited to a tent and a fire pit. We
rehydrate the first meal of the trip. They are yummy, but they have the
appearance and texture of baby food. They should actually be nutritious though,
given the amount of vegies and tofu I put through the blender and dehydrator in
the weeks leading up to this. We discover the pool contains feet eating fish
and stand in it laughing at them swarming around us. Mozzies drive us into the
tent early and the night is hot. Definitely no more suffering in the cold for
us.
The next day provides a more in depth bush bashing
experience for Alison. A steep, loose, vegetated climb, followed by traversing
across a spinifex covered slab. Whilst pulling on trees, pushing back shrubs
and climbing over rocks, it again occurs to me this was not really what I told
the surgeon I’d be doing. At the end of it though is a long gorge leading back
to the waterfalls. We jump in and swim back to the top of the falls. At least
the swimming is going well with the shoulder. It’s already feeling stronger and
swimming breaststroke down the long pools is fine. At least, I’m pretty sure
they said breaststroke was fine from 3 months … Alison declines to peek over,
but the water falls freely over the mouth of a deep chimney into a lower pool
before the fall visible from the bottom. Alison slips over getting out of the
water on the return journey. There’s a moment of panic from both of us as she
hits her face on the slab and falls back in the water, but she’s on her feet
again before I can get to her. No bleeding, minimal pain, eyes equal and
reactive, GCS 15. Is her GCS normally 15? We’ve been pretty loopy this trip …
She seems fine and after a rest we go on.
The gorge requires swimming constantly. A green tree snake
falls from a tree into the water just before we commit to swimming. At least I
didn’t nearly step on it, which was the story of my last Kimberly trip. It did
mean that the snake was in the water that we were about to be in. Oh well, it’s
only a green tree snake. Shoes and day pack are abandoned to explore a few
pools up before we head back to camp. On the way down, Alison turns an ankle.
We truss it up like a turkey in my ankle brace and she keeps going. Then for
the trifecta, she walks into a green ant nest. Green ants are aggressive little
bastards that swarm onto you and bite if you disturb them. They hurt. The
standard reaction is scream, swear and do a mad dance of slapping everywhere,
throwing off your pack and clothing and getting someone to check they are all
gone. It’s the least erotic variation on the dance of the seven veils you’re
ever likely to see. Green ants are also not really green. They are 2/3s yellow,
with a green bum. Green tree snakes are also yellow. I think someone in the
Territory has yellow-green colour blindness.
The next day we are up early to walk out before it gets hot.
This is the latest in the season I have ever been up here. I was at least
trying to give the shoulder enough time to be ready for this. The days are
really hot. And there are more mozzies. But thanks to the enormous wet season,
there’s no shortage of water yet. We stuff our faces with almost fresh salad at
the car and go to suss out our next walk. I am already thinking about another
walk exploring further sections of Motor Car and Kurundie. This was my first
foray into this section of the park, and it has more potential than I expected.
Unfortuneately, we are foiled at the next walk. Koolpin
Creek is too high for the not-SUV to cross, and there’s nowhere to stash the
car and walk in from there. Leaving the car on the side of the road for 4 days
in a state full of burnt out cars on the roadside doesn’t seem the wisest idea.
We retreat to Gunlom to rethink plans. Maps get thrown out on the ground again
and more schedules drawn up. We decide to add the extra days to our Jim Jim
Falls walk and take 14-5 days to explore there. I’m ready to settle at Gunlom
for the night, have a rest day there to make sure Alison’s ankle has recovered
and head for Jim Jim the next day, but Alison is afraid she’ll be bored. Did I
mention she’s a task master? So in the car we get again (this is still the same
day we walked 7k out from Kurrundie) and drive towards Nourlangie Rock, so I
can have more art lessons the next day. And go to Jabiru for coffee.
The last 6km into Sandy Billabong provide the most exciting
driving the not-SUV has done yet. Alison hoons around sandy corners and tells
me how much fun this is. I tease her that recreational 4wding will become her
new pastime. She declined to experience the joy of doing that road again though
and we camped at the murella billabong.
Alison feeds the vice sponge cheezels and wine once we
finally set up camp. The next morning, it’s Douglas’s vice I’ve taken on, as I
make Alison get up before dawn to go birdwatching. Actually, only the
birdwatching part is channelling Douglas. I’m not sure if even birds will get
him up and functional at dawn. We wander down to the wetlands walk and discover
a large “area closed due to dangerous conditions” sign. Right next to the
crocodile and buffalo warning signs. Are the dangerous conditions some
particularly hostile megafauna? It’s still quite dark and we decide that
perhaps a stroll down to the boat ramp will suffice until a little lighter. I
wander back in a bit (do I have more of the stupid and naughty genes than
Alison?) and head down. The path descends from dry woodland into a patch of
rainforest and as both the light and temperature drops, it feeds a little fear
of volatile megafauna. I look around, laugh at myself and continue on. At the
wetland is a very weathered stone bench, more than half covered in plants. I’m
not sure what made them put a bench in the flood zone, but it looks like where
birdwatchers come to die. The wetland is full of birds and I excitedly watch
magpie geese, jacanas, a gazillion sorts of duck and even see a jabiru. Big
birds. I am excited by big birds. My first ever birdwatching goal was a
cassowary. Emus make me happy. The bustard in breeding plumage was a highlight
of my Alice Springs desert park visit.
Nourlangie is a beautiful field of rocks. The path winds
between and around them, and still more loom over from above. If a tribe of
climbers had found it instead of Aboriginal people, it could be our
Fontainbleau. Or maybe I’m just getting seriously delusional from lack of
climbing. But it is gorgeous. The rock, the caves, the way they are scattered
and form caves and tunnels. It feels cool and inviting and if I was living on
the land up here, I’d want to hang out there. We come cross a ranger talk at
one cave and listen to a story about a man who kidnapped and raped a woman then
blamed them both for breaking kinship laws. They didn’t use such specific
language. But the story had both of us angry about how a woman is blamed for
being kidnapped and raped, and when the man was punished, it was for breaking
kinship laws, not for abusing the woman. There was some discussion about
cultural differences. I am not a cultural relativist. Abuse is abuse and
stories that perpetuate victim blaming and fail to recognise abuse are not OK,
whether in my cultural group or another. Alison performs a little hat slapping
and hopping dance to fend off mosquitos. There’s some discussion about whether
Aboriginal art can be appreciated without know the stories behind it. I ask if
all art doesn’t have stories and intention behind it, yet we still apply our
own interpretation and appreciation (or lack there of) to it. Sometimes serious
conversations interrupt the otherwise constant flow of talk about sex.
We head into Jabiru to source real coffee and replacement
thongs. I am a shoe destructionist. My thongs did not survive walk no. 1. My
last walk in the Kimberly, I had to hold the sole of my boots on with strapping
tape for a week. My latest boots are displaying a distressing peeling of the
rand already. Thongs are a high demand item in Jabiru. Nothing remained between
a kid’s size 1 and men’s size 7. I decided slightly short thongs were better
than flippers. I could choose between Spiderman or Disney princess thongs.
Alison thought I needed to reclaim the word princess. So I am a radical punk
slut princess who refuses to marry the boring older man (real life princesses
never got handsome princes) and produce an heir. I’d like a whole swathe of
handsome princes and princesses, thanks. I’m not sure about whether I want to
become ruler of the world or hand it over to anarchy though.
Alison and I have been on the road a month today and we
haven’t yet fought nor slept together. Some people might find that
disappointing. Although Alison did say
if I was a 6 foot tall man, she’d definitely sleep with me. What is a 5 foot
tall girl to do with that? I have no chance. Devastating.
We’re up to about 6100km driven and 190km walked, 27 square
metres of food and stuff had to be sorted a second time, about 30 litres of coffee has
been drunk and despite how much I carry on about them, we might have only
gotten through 6 boxes of cheezels. The number of mozzie bites are rapidly
catching up to the number of photos taken. 5 hours of my life have been lost to
shoulder stretching and 24 300 theraband exercises performed. No, I am not
exaggerating this time. Don’t hurt your shoulder. The tedium of theraband will
kill you.
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