Wednesday 18 June 2025

This morning we undertake the NYPA walk. I was expecting showgirls and music on this outback New York Performing Arts tour. However, uncharacteristically, I was wrong in my outlook. We were in search of the Nypa Palm, a mangrove palm native to this coastline, this being one of only three locations in Australia, the other two being Melville Island and the Wenlock River. On the way we spied a bower bird nest, deviously disguised as natural but my eagle (not bowering) eye recognised the art direction from a mile away. Good reproduction though, so still impressive

Through the mangroves

We come to the Nypa Palm

A beach BBQ for lunch today is a treat, at a delightful spot curiously called Low Point. This must be a geographical reference because it was certainly a high point for us. The best meal we have had at Seven Spirit Bay, simple bbq chicken and fish with delightful salads and garlic bread.

For me lunch includes a side of Sea Legs in preparation for our afternoon fishing trip. Our Captain is Lance. A man of few words, we practically had to interrogate him to elicit his name

There were just three of us on this boat, and Cherrie and I sat in the front stalls of course, before Lance barked “Ladies behind”. It would be too rough for the ladies and so we moved to the row behind. And Lance was right. I think the technical term is bloody rough. We, all three of us, held on to our seats with both hands, having first cunningly removed our hats. After 45 minutes of churning our way across the Arafura Sea, we reached relative calm, and Lance produced the rods. One went to our fellow traveller Garth, the other to be shared by the ladies. Lance cast, Garth fished, Cherrie and I, in turns, grew bored

It was a lovely day, true, but standing up, holding a line, no bites, is a dull day for us. Even Lance apparently got bored with the no bites scenario, and so confiscated both rods, returned us to our seats, and took off again. More chopping and churning took us to another part of the sea, where the fish are bound to bite. No such luck. Third time lucky, hoped the Captain. This is all conjecture, of course, because the captain is actually mute throughout the entire process, except when we come to our third stop when he barks “Ladies stay where you are, mate you come up here”. Garth obligingly held his rod. Lance locked our rod in the rod holder (another technical term) and we obediently sat in our seats. I noted that the seats looked a bit dusty

And then, after an interminably long time, Garth got a bite. And what a bite it was. We defied the Captain and stood up to admire. It was a Queenfish. Finally released and returned. For comparison, here is a photo of what Garth caught and what Cherrie caught.

Having achieved his aim, for the bloke to catch the fish, we returned to shore.

The only thing that bit for us today was when the day bit the dust.

Goodnight, from beautiful Seven Spirit Bay