This morning we see much more of the rock art here at Mt Borrodaile. Cherrie’s photos say it all
Ever had the feeling you are being watched?
I have shared just a snippet with you. There is rock art everywhere you look, in red, yellow and white ochres. Cameron reckons that the colour of the ochre represents the age of the painting, but I’m not so sure about that. Curious, I know, for many of you to hear me admit that I am not so sure about something.
Around 4pm we are corralled for sunset cruise and drinks. Down a croc infested billabong
The view finally opens up, and all arms are in tact
Of course, the bird life is amazing
The boat pulls over, we are served beer, soft drink or bubbly. I take a glass of the latter, it is vile and so I generously donate it to the croc snoozing by the boat
As the sun set over Mt Borrodaile, a sacred site we are unable to visit, we soak it all in
And so another day ends
Dinner tonight, in true indigenous style, is a gluggy paella. At least we survived the beef wellington
We had to be out of our rooms by 8am today, and have another several hours wait at Barra Lodge before we board our plane. But this time I manage to post two blogs, so it is time well used. We are driven to the airstrip at Maningrida, where we are given a wrap for lunch to consume whilst we wait for the planes to land, the next batch of tourists to disembark, the planes to be refueled and eventually we board two 12 seater Caravans. I’m an old hand at this flying now and a 12 seater seems huge. But, I take a SeaLegs just in case. From the air we see solar farms, in the middle of apparent nowhere, and this has become a common sight from the air. We also see smoke from the cool burns, the indigenous way of controlling growth. They get carbon credits for these burns and the country is well controlled as a result of these low burns. I am reminded of Rural Fire Service ex Assistant Commissioner Greg Mullins, who was so critical of white fellas backburns, and whose protests fell on deaf ears. Of course, rivers snake their way through this remote land
We fly over very different country….rocky country. But the sight of the green patch exposes a spring, which is near the airstrip at Mt Borrodaile. Another short, rough airstrip but we land in tact
Mt Borrodaile is a 700 square mile lease from the Amuduk people to white fella Max Davidson. Max had intended to set up a hunting lodge but when the traditional owners, Charlie, showed him the country and the wonders of rock art it beheld, Max instead set up an eco tourism lodge. If I must be honest, I need to fess up that Max died 8 years ago, but the lease passed to his daughters Lee and Diana. Both live in Melbourne, both have apartments in Darwin, and one looks after the bookings and the other the marketing. So they are very hands on and visit the lodge pretty regularly apparently. Under the lease agreement, the lessees must conduct slow burns each year, and of course respect the ways of the traditional owners as to which sites they are unable to visit or photograph. The sad side of this story is that Charlie is the last in the line of the Amuduk people. He has no offspring, only some nephews on his mother’s side but no one on his father’s side. So with the death of Charlie, the Amuduk clan also dies. By the way, Charlie’s actual age is unknown but he is well into his 90s.
We are allocated our cabins and re-group 30 minutes later. And set off on our first tour of this extraordinary place. To the great relief of you all, I shall allow Cherrie’s pictures to do the talking
We make several stops to see and learn. We walk through some country which recently experienced a low burn
And then we reach a billabong. Don’t go too near, for it’s full of crocs
Buffalo, cattle, dingoes and wallabies inhabit this land but so do wild pigs and the destruction they cause is palpable. Otherwise pristine country, save for the cattle and buffalo, is simply ruined beyond reclaimation by those pigs. Our guide, Cameron, used to shoot them but this season any shooting has been banned, indeed any shooting will result in instant dismissal. Cameron is not sure from where this edict came. He knows that Charlie says there are too many pigs, so could it be from the owner sisters? Could it be that they want to revive their father’s original wish to found a hunting lodge? But who will pay the very high rates for this lodge when shooters can do their dirty work on other properties free of charge? It’s a swine of a mystery.
This afternoon we are introduced to some rock art. Between 20,000 and 10,000 years old, according to Cameron. He is a terrific, passionate guide but I do get the feeling that he really doesn’t know enough about this art, its age and its meaning to impart the true knowledge. However, the art is quite remarkable and one feels very privileged to be here to witness this phenomenon.
This afternoon’s tour ends with the pièce de résistance – the rainbow serpent. This is a breathtaking piece of art, reached by scrabbling over rocks and apparently, for me, insurmountable obstacles. But huge thanks to Cameron and Greg, our verbose permanent guide, they get me there with a strong pair of hands and guidance. My estimation of Greg has risen considerably
All the while, we are overlooked by a French Legionairre
We return to the Lodge for dinner. Two things are remarkable about this dinner. The first is that I sit opposite Greg, who I had noticed earlier in the tour chewed like Popeye, and now I see why. He slips his teeth out, upper and lower, and pops them into his shirt pocket. Then he miraculously tucks into dinner. Once consumed, which is very quick and efficient, the teeth return to their rightful place. The second noteworthy thing about dinner is that we are served Beef Wellington. It remains to be seen if this is my final blog
This morning’s outing is a fishing trip in the Liverpool River. Now, I’ve been on many fishing trips in my life but none of them have involved a boat, or indeed a hook. Cherrie and I are assigned the MV Cadel with Anne and Paul. Four non fishers for poor Leigh, who is our captain. We launch into the Arafura Sea
and head to the river. This body of water is enormous and apparently not the biggest in the Territory. But the Liverpool River discharges enough water into the Arafura Sea each year to fill Sydney Harbour eight times.
The mangroves surround us
Eye Spy
But wait, there’s more
We really got out teeth into these crocs
And we saw lots of birds, including these two
And an out of focus jabiru
As the water sparkles
We cast a line. Actually Leigh casts it for us. We take it in turns, two at a time. The boat slowly putts along, Leigh’s eyes glued to the screen which shows him where the fish are, and we catch…..nothing. Not even a bite. None of us. Oh well, we weren’t all that keen on fishing anyway. But, just as we reel in…absolutely nothing, and Leigh puts his foot down (as it were) to return us to shore, we get our chance. Leigh’s cap has blown off. Here’s our chance to catch something. And after a few twists and turns, the cap succumbs to the net. Which Leigh holds
Our group has separated into two today, with 8 fishing this morning over two boats, and the remainder visiting the Art Gallery and Museum. As we return to shore, empty handed as it were (although any catch would have been released so at least we have saved a few sore gums) the other fishing group celebrates their catch of 14. Talk about tall fishing stories. Off for some real culture now
we learn about the ancient preparation of the pandanus leaves for weaving
Sometimes, of course, modernity interupts ancient arts
It’s fascinating to watch how these women transform a leaf into a basket…there are a few steps in between, including drying and dying and weaving, but we get the gist and appreciate the extraordinary art. Speaking of which, we have time to soak up the gallery
We have noticed this pretty flower by the side of the roads as we travel this part of the world, and Cherrie spies the Turkey Bush outside the Arts Centre. Wattle she think of next?
Meanwhile, I spy a bone coffin
When out bush with Frankie at Murwangi I ate green ants. Liquid citrus and delicious. Since then we have imbibed, just a teensy weensy bit, in Green Ant Gin and it’s great. At the Arts Centre today we saw this sign, in response to a member of the community collecting so many green ants for sale that the tree died
We move via our bus to the Museum, where our three basket weavers join us, together with the assistant manager of the Gallery who has only been here for a couple of months. Her lack of knowledge was evident whilst we were at the Gallery but really came to the fore here, at the Museum. She asked the women to give us the tour. They revealed that they had never been to the Museum before. In fairness, I should reveal that the manager of the museum, who I imagine is a mine of information, was off sick today. Fortunately, the signage was pretty good and we were kept busy
We painted some bark
Dame Edna had been here before us but we made a head dress of kangaroo teeth (who knew kangaroo had teeth?) and a necklace of snake spine. Unfortunately we were not able to keep or sell these
We trapped some fish
And we rowed the boats
and we generally had a whale of a time, but no whale to be seen
Into the sunset goes another day, to the bucolic sounds of the kookaburra
Sunrise at 6.30am has Cherrie showered and dressed and camera at the ready. She catches both the sunrise and moonset
We must finish breakfast by 8am and be out of our rooms by 8.30am. This is because the next group arrives today and their rooms must be ready. It’s back to back touring, this mob, which is fine. Until the roads are closed and we have to fly. Our flight is not until midday, so we have 3.5 hours to sit and wait and do nothing. Not a bad thing to do on a holiday I guess, but a little drive or other distraction would be nice.
While you are waiting, allow me to impart to you an interesting fact about the Yolgnu worldview, Dhuwa and Yirritja. These are the two fundamental moieties that make up all aspects of Yolgnu existence. Everything, including people, clans, languages, land, animals, plants, and even compass directions, is either Dhuwa or Yirritja. They are interconnected and interdependent, like Yin and Yang. Each person is assigned their moiety based on their father’s moiety. A Yirritja is expected to marry a Dhuwa, and vice versa. So, when we were out with Frankie yesterday everything he talked about was either Dhuwa or Yirritja. This tree was Dhuwa and that tree was Yirritja Every fish, every stone, every rock has a particular moiety.
Meanwhile back at the wait….Cherrie and I took this into our own hands, left the seated group glued to their phones, taking advantage of the limited area of reception (the balcony of the lodge) and took a potter around the lodge exterior, steering clear of the runway. Mark, (he’s the one in the drivers seat) still jovial,
noticed us wandering and offered to show us the croc cages. Of course we snapped at the chance. Something to really get our teeth into
These big beggers are helicoptered in and lowered over croc nests to collect their eggs, which have been identified by advance low flying helicopters and GPS recorded. A fool of man is inside the cage, which is cunningly lowered over the nest so that mum croc cannot eat said fool. 80% of the eggs are collected and these hunters reckon they are showing generosity to Mrs Croc since she’s still got 20% of her offspring left. The eggs are flown back to a base where they are carefully kept until they are transferred to a hatchery in Darwin. Big money in those eggs apparently and once hatched the little blighters are allowed to grow to 1.5m before being turned into high end handbags, shoes, etc. Thousands of these eggs are collected each season. That’s a lot of shoes.
We escape from croc stories and wander a little more. The swamp and surrounds are very pretty
The water here is non drinkable as it comes from the swamp and even though it is fully filtered, it’s still very tannin stained. A visit to the toilet before departure provides some amusement, since no colour at all is discernible, other than the brown swamp water. It’s why I choose wine for my hydration
The planes have had a strong tail wind from Darwin and so are ahead of schedule. They land at 11.15am. Of our group of 15, including Greg, 10 are assigned to the 14 seater Caravan, 2 to a Cessna 210 and Cherrie and me, along with Greg, to another Cessna 210. All luggage has been carefully placed on the tractor and our little incoming plane lands after the other two. All three planes are unloaded of the incoming guests who will experience as we have over the past day. They may not be lucky enough to witness the croc cage though.
Yay, we’ve got Julia again. Still, I took my SeaLegs an hour ago, just in case.
Today we are flying to Maningrida, on the Arafura Sea.
It’s only a 20 minute flight but there’s plenty to see
But for the rains, we’d be driving on this road. Maybe flying is good after all. Thank you SeaLegs aka AirLegs
We see the sea
After landing we board what would have been that Merc 4WD van I mentioned in a previous blog. The type of vehicle we would have travelled in had the roads not been washed away. This one is stuck in Maningrida, for it cannot get out. But it’s the bus we use for the next day, and very comfortable it is too. Greg drives us to our home for the next two nights, which was built as a fishing lodge but bought by Outback Spirit a few years ago. It still operates as a fishing lodge during the biting season.
On a short walk down a path, Cherrie bites. In fact, she barks. It doesn’t take her long to document them, in her own visual style
Dinner on the deck, accompanied by the Kookaburras, but very different to those familiar to us
These sweet little things find nothing to laugh about however. They have a rather gravelly, low pitched voice, which sounds a bit like a profanity. Those of you of a certain age may remember Graham Kennedy being taken off air for his impersonation of a crow call. These kookas are impersonating The King (and I don’t mean Charles).
Into the most uncomfortable 4WD safari vehicle, (a Toyota not a Merc) for a 2 and a half hour trail through the countryside. The vehicle itself was actually ok, but the placement of the seat belt receiver was so badly placed that we all took our seat belts off very quickly. That didn’t actually help a lot because the receiver was still there and still digging into us all. But, hey, we’re in the outback. Some of us were probably thinking that it might have been more comfortable to have been thrown out the back.
We are lead on the safari by jovial Mark (and it becomes quickly apparent that it’s only his second season here and he’s still quite green) and Frankie, a local man who speaks to us in language, with Mark translating. From a well learned script.
This was a working cattle station until the early 2000’s and evidence of such is all around.
One of these vehicles below belongs to the Lodge, the others are scattered around the vast property, which is part of these wonderful wetlands
Our safari is composed of frequent stops, and we disembark to learn from Frankie which trees are used for the large canoes, those which are stripped of bark for the smaller canoes, how ant nests are used for fire, which fruits are edible and which are medicinal, etc etc
There are heaps of wild buffalo, horses and cattle which are remnants of the pastoral lands. There are also wallaby, dingoes, pigs and cats but we didn’t see them.
Our safari finished with a visit to the art studio, where Frankie painted a goanna on his arm
Cherrie was incredibly slack and painted absolutely nothing
Back to the ranch for lunch and then a glorious swamp-boat (flat bottom boat with propeller) cruise on the actual swamp. The variety of flora and fauna is vast. This is a peaceful 90 minutes with a very informative guide, Lachlan, at the wheel accompanied by local man Graham, who again spoke in language. Lachlan is a great interpreter and clearly passionate about this environment and admired by the locals.
Graham is incredibly eagle eyed and spots not just one, but two crocs. These are salt water crocodiles, even though this is a fresh water swamp. Self Improvement Thursday: Salty’s can live in freshwater, Freshy’s can’t live in saltwater.
Look carefully above and you’ll see a croc lying in front of the buffalo, cunningly disguised as mud. But that’s lethal mud that is.
Back at the ranch Cherrie takes a walk around
Greg has had a couple of days off but joined us for dinner. Nothing stops Greg talking though, even a delicious meal.
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