20.-22.09.2010
Though I had quite gotten used to the daily routine here at Manbulloo Caravan Park – waking up with whomever wakes up first in my room (usually the Koreans), having my morning muesli, Wheatbix and banana breakfast, then my cup of coffee and cigarette in the morning sun, watching the little lizards chase each other through the pale yellow leaves on the ground and then usually going back inside to watch series on my laptop or listen to “Die Drei ???” on my iPod, usually heading into town late afternoon to go to Woolworths and take a dip in the hot springs and then gathering for dinner at the kitchen facilities in the evening – there’s only a certain amount of doing nothing I can handle. By now I have been down to the river right next to the caravan park and tried fishing (without luck), walked around outside the caravan park to take pictures of the cows during magic hour and have finished all the seasons of “How I Met Your Mother” that I have – and those were the highlights of my days. So when one of the French guys working as a packer at the farm mentioned driving up to Darwin for a night on Monday, I didn’t hesitate and jumped in the car.
And so we drove, one of the guys I was travelling with, also hitching a ride, back up the road I had already driven along twice, listening to French music. The sun beat down on my side for most of the ride up (and down) giving me a beautiful burnt sienna color on one of my shoulders, and making it impossible to sleep on that side the next day. Every few hundred meters the smell of older road-kill victims wafted into the car through the open windows and every once in a while we’d almost hit the eagles feasting on the newer ones. Around four hours and only one short stop later, we drove into the city I had just come from a few days earlier and it actually felt a bit like returning to a home-like place. My bank had already closed, so my main reason for coming up – picking up my new bank card – had to be postponed to the next day. My PADI card, which had been sent from Melbourne to Darwin a week earlier, also hadn’t arrived yet at the Cav, so we spent the afternoon walking around, sitting in the library till they closed and then having the free backpacker’s dinner at the Vic. I then visited some friends who were still staying at the Cav and managed to find an unoccupied bed in their room for the night (saving the 25$ I would/should have paid for it)… It was a short stay, because after picking up my new bank card the next morning, we headed straight back down to Katherine to still have some time to pass by the Gorge in the afternoon.
At the Gorge, we walked the track I had already done, but backwards, to get to the viewpoint faster. This time, my camera was charged and ready and I got to take the pictures I had only taken in my mind the first time around. On the trail, we met the two French couples also working as packers at the farm, the ones the guy I was with wanted to meet. So we did the rest of the trail with them and ended up back home in the evening.
Instead of a bar or a fancy lounge area in a hostel, our hangouts in the evenings take place in a covered outdoor kitchen with nothing but a gas stove, two fridges, a sink, a table with two benches and some plastic chairs. But when (up to) 14 people, pickers and packers at the farm (mostly French, two English, me and the two newest members from Berlin) gather under said roof, cooking dinner one by one and rotating to use the gas stove and the table, having a beer and getting to know each other, exchanging travel stories, it can make a pretty nice evening. That particular evening, I was invited to dinner by one of the French guys and ate the best meal I have had since my trip with Groovy Grape – Barramundi fillet pan seared in butter and onions with sour cream curried rice. I had never eaten Barramundi before, only read about this fish that can be found in the local rivers – it was excellent! The meat was white, firm and quite tasty, not fishy at all. A simple but very satisfying meal.
The next morning, some of the French pickers decided to go back to the gorge to do a hike they had discovered the day before. I joined them of course, just dying to use my legs again. The Butterfly Gorge hike is about 12km return and is estimated to take 4h. A sign at the start of the hike showing the different paths and reminding you to bring lots of water and to wear the right shoes, the estimated temperature during the hike was 50degrees that day. I don’t think I have ever consciously walked under the sun in that kind of heat and the number alone stumped me. We started off at 11am, knowing we’d be exposed to the noon sun straight above us and after twenty minutes of walking (though I do have to add that those were going up a steep hill) I was drenched in sweat. I could feel it dripping down my temples soon creating a steadily flowing river down to my belly button. My back stayed cool thanks to the two bottles of water I had kept in the freezer all night that were in my new super lightweight backpack I had bought in Darwin (one of those that you can roll up to the size of a roll on deodorant – sorry, only reference I could think of). Along the way there were two tanks of water, which I was quite grateful for, because I did drink more than I thought I would and it felt great to soak my hair (which only ended up dry again fifteen minutes later). The hike itself was not really hard and offered quite diverse landscapes. We started off up a steep hill on a gravel path till we got up onto the highland of the gorge. Up there, we walked through boulders and skinny trees, dry grass and some palms along the way. The gravel turned to sand every once in a while, then to pebbles and rocks as we descended into the butterfly gorge. More and more palm-like trees had dropped their lowest branches, which crunched under our feet. Down in the gorge there was more shade, given to us by the trees of the little jungle we made our way through. Here we wound through the trees stepping on larger rocks and climbing over fallen tree trunks, even crossing a little stream which surely floods the whole area during rainy season. To one side, the dark gray rock of the gorge followed our path.
The name Butterfly Gorge, and this is just a guess, probably comes from the fact that there are quite a few of these fluttering creatures around, accompanying you as you slowly but surely reach your destination. There are however some less welcome critters that join you on this picturesque walk – for one, the flies: I know they are part of life in the outback and that it’s actually not really that bad at the moment, but if you only slow down or stop for a few minutes, at least one of those pesky buggers will catch up with you and follow you, slowly driving you insane. I had one follow me for at least fifteen minutes, buzzing around my head, making it sound like it flew in one ear and out the other. But at least flies can only annoy you to death, while the other beings we encountered just might actually kill you. Australia is notorious for its many deadly animals and while travelling here, just the sight of a spider or a snake can run a shiver down your spine. And we saw both. Of course, I am not an expert and do not know which of the spiders and snakes are deadly, but better to be weary of all than to risk that tiny bite that will shorten my trip instantly. We saw two snakes, one just a baby and one about a foot long, and way too many spiders of different shapes, sizes and colors.
After an hour and a half in the grueling heat, we arrived at our destination – a little cove along Katherine river that opens to a turn in the gorge. Basically it looks like a crossroads of the river and, as I learned from the many tour boats that passed us during our stay there, the pool where the two gorges meet is up to 30m deep and actually turns into a little whirlpool during rainy season when the water level rises a few meters. After a short lunch and rest at the cove, feeding the fish and turtles that came up quite close to the shore, we left all our stuff there and swam around the corner to a sport where it’s quite easy to climb up onto the cliffs and jump into the greenish water. I have gotten used to the fact that when swimming in the local waters, you can be pretty sure that there are some crocs hidden somewhere along the shore or down deep and I’m actually not nervous about getting in with them anymore. The others preferred to stay in the water as little as possible. The jumps off the cliffs were good fun. I started off with about 3m and then went up to 5m. Two of the guys actually climbed a bit higher and found a spot at 7m from which to jump, but I don’t think my muscles would have budged if I had stood up there and contemplated about jumping. We were joined by some other hikers, some tourists on canoes and the occasional river cruise which usually resulted in us becoming tourist attractions ourselves, the guides mentioning the “wildlife” on the cliffs of Katherine Gorge.
Three hours, many jumps and some relaxing on the hot stones later, we packed up and walked the one and a half hours back to the car – definitely more strenuous than heading there. Tired from the first hike and swimming, wanting to just float back via the river, stumbling over sticks and stones, the afternoon sun in your face and the water in my bottles no longer icy fresh, I got back to the car with legs made of rubber as heavy as lead and my eyes falling closed during the car ride home. Though I did retire to bed around my usual time of 11pm, I did manage to come in 3rd out of 7 in the poker match before that.
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