Our Aussie Adventures

It was just after 10:00AM that Liz and Greg came knocking on our door this morning. Not to collect us for another day of exciting adventure, but because it had come time that they had to check out of their cabin this morning. David and Heather are in the same boat, as their week long sojourn in Darwin draws to a close. David and Heather were lucky enough to get a late check out, so don’t need to be out of their room until midday however, so we had organised to see them in town for lunch, a little after that.

It was a subdued lunch, at the Darwin RSL Club, as we reflected on the past week, and the fun we had. In such a short time, we managed to pack in a fair bit, seeing the best that Darwin has to offer, as well as spending some time just kicking back doing nothing. It was the perfect blend of sightseeing and relaxing. We had managed to all spend some quality time together, as well as going off to do our own things.

So much so was the enjoyment we’ve had this week, that tentative plans were made to receive more visitors when we’re nearer to Perth, and we went 3 ways buying the winning lotto ticket for Saturday nights draw. Well, at least we all hope it will turn out to be the winning ticket, as winning a share of $30 million would be a great way to end the trip. Although, I think winning a big enough share would ensure the trip didn’t come to an end. Not any time soon in any case.

Following our final feast together, the ding, ding, ding of the pokie machines in the next room was a calling. Never the big spenders, Bec and I called it quits after we lost $5.00. David came with Bec and I, as we left the others enthralled in the computerised gambling den, eyes glued in anticipation to the spinning digital reels. The three of us headed out for a breath of fresh air, and a look in a couple of nearby shops that Bec and I hadn’t made it too on our last shopping trip to town.

Talk about a small world, but we got chatting to an assistant in one of the shops, only to find that she not only used to live down in Melbourne, but was living only a few blocks away from where we’re from. What are the chances?

When we again met up with the other three, they were all smiles, having had their fair share of good luck on the pokie machines. They all walked out winners to varying degrees, which was more than I could say for our hard luck.

It was time then to retire to our caravan for the final depressing couple of hours before everyone was due at the airport. I don’t know why I was feeling down, since I’m not the one heading home, but having had friendly faces from home about for the week has been refreshing. For the past nine weeks or so, it has pretty much been Bec and I, going it alone, and while it’s been a ball, it’s good to have other people we know, around to talk to. Sure, I love walking about the caravan parks and campgrounds, having random chats with strangers, but it’s not the same when there’s no continuing connection.

We weren’t going to let it get us down however, so we made the most of the last couple of hours before everyone was again on their way. We graciously accepted loads of goodies from David and Heather and Liz and Greg. All of the stuff that they didn’t want to take home with them, from tinned vegetables, Vegemite and butter, to rain ponchos, toilet seat covers and a deck of cards, it was quite a haul. Thanks guys. Even the dogs didn’t miss out, as Liz produced a packet of tasty treats for them to get their teeth into. They then proceeded to do laps of the annex, in the hope that someone else would feed them a treat or two, but it was to no avail. Apart from a few bits of ice that Alvin uncharacteristically suckled, they had to make do with a pigs ear each. Oh, and while I’m at it, I have a confession to make. That distinctly foul odour for which Bethany was blamed, sorry, but that was me.

The time rolled around all too quickly, that our goodbyes needed to be said, and before we knew it, we were on our own again. It was a strange feeling, almost akin to when we said goodbye to family and left Melbourne all those weeks ago. No more organising activities for us all. No more getting chauffeured about. No more joining up over dinner to discuss the days events. It was back to being just Bec, the dogs and myself.

It made me realise that I definitely miss the camaraderie and friendships we have left back at home, but I am certainly in no hurry to return. We still have over half of our trip ahead of us, and plenty more adventures to endure. Yes, it was sad to see our visitors leave, but I am in no way envious of them jetting back to the near freezing Melbourne winter, while we can continue to enjoy the tropical sunshine of Australia’s northern climes. Nor do I envy them the daily grind of going to work every day, even if it is just to get up and work about the house. I am more than happy that our daily grind is getting up each day to accomplish something new and exciting.

Thus, at about 6:20PM, when I heard the overhead whine of a jetliner taking off from the nearby airport, I rushed outside in the vain hope that I would see the plane taking our friends southward to Melbourne. I can’t say for sure if it was their jet, but I can promise that I waved like crazy.

In fact, as this blog post goes to press, David, Heather, Liz and Greg will most likely be stepping off of that airliner at Melbourne International Airport, dressed casually in shorts and t-shirts, as they are met by a wall of frigid coldness. Yep, I will be thinking of them all, that’s for sure.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

A busy day today, called for an unwelcome early morning wake up call. I was tempted to roll over and drift back into the deep sleep from which I had been roused when the bell tolled at a bit before 7:00AM. It would have been even earlier, but just as we were switching the lights off last night, we realised that our breakfast supplies had been depleted and so a morning feed was out of the question this morning. The extra 15 minutes slumber that afforded us was welcomed with glee.

It was time for ‘The Beast’ to get a decent run today, picking Liz and Greg up from the caravan park at which they are staying, before meeting up down the road a little way with David and Heather. We were off on a day trip to Litchfield National Park. This relatively small national park is only an hour or so drive from Darwin, so makes a fantastic place to spend a few hours exploring.

Here we go. Into Litchfield National Park.

After stopping for the obligatory photos standing next to the sign at the entrance to the park, our next stop was to view some termite mounds. These giant mounds can be seen alongside the road when you’re travelling, but here in the park there are two varieties. The most interesting are the ‘magnetic’ termite mounds. I had Liz believing that these formations are formed facing due north, as a result of the iron ferrite found in the soil, before I let her in on the real secret. The actual fact is, they are constructed to take advantage of the climatic conditions, in an effort to moderate the temperatures within the mounds.

Bec and I at the termite mounds.

It wasn’t necessary to stop for too long at the termite mounds, and we were soon back on the road, heading for our next destination at Florence Falls. Bec and I have toured around here previously, so we had some idea what to expect, but since there are certain waterholes throughout the park that are designated as being safe for swimming, we were looking forward to taking a dip. Something that we hadn’t been able to manage last time we were here because of time restraints.

The car parking area at the falls is only a short walk from the plunge pool, but there is a capricious, steep, towering flight of steps to negotiate just to get down to the clear springs. Covered by a dense forest canopy, the sun light flickers through the foliage, to glimmer on the surface of the crystal clear water of the pond creating a kaleidoscopic effect on the surface. Wading into the shallows was enough to take my breath away, such was the frigidness of the water. After the strenuous climb down though, I wasn’t returning to ‘The Beast’ without getting wet, so I sucked in my chest, pursed my lips, and in I dove.

Once fully submerged, the water was more refreshing than cold. Being the inept swimmer that I am though, I stayed in the shallower area, where I could maintain my sturdy footing upon the sandy bottom, my legs surrounded by dozens of fish. The fish appeared to be big enough that you would be happy to reel them in if you were on a fishing expedition, but try as I might, I was unable to snag one by hand.

Bec enjoys a swim…

…while I eye off dinner.

As I busied myself in the inane game of grabbing a fish with my bare hands, Bec and Greg swam across the plunge pool. They were able to swim right up to and under the water that was cascading down the cliff face, getting a free water jet massage in the process. I would have loved to have been able to make it over there as well, but my swimming skills saw me flailing about exactly where I was.

When we had all finally emerged from the water, cool and refreshed, it was decided that the return trek up the stairway was an exertion we could do without. The other option was a scenic walk through the bush land and along side the creek. Distance wise, this option was about twice as far, but promised to be nowhere near as arduous as those damn stairs.

From Florence Falls, we backtracked a couple of kilometres to the Buley Waterholes, where a sign at the entrance to the car park helpfully informed us that if no spots were available, then the waterholes were busy and it would be best to come back at another time. Given that our time was limited, I was determined to find a spot, eventually nudging ‘The Beast’ into a way too small a spot, but at least allowing us to be able to get out and have a look around. The waterholes were indeed full of other bathers, but not so full we weren’t able to find a quiet spot for ourselves.

Buley Waterhole is another of the few designated swimming spots in the top end, which doesn’t necessarily mean that it is entirely free from the scourge of crocodiles. Just that none have been sighted here for some time. Rangers monitor all of the designated swimming spots on a regular basis, in an effort to relocate any stray crocs that are found, but that doesn’t mean that the occasional one won’t slip through the net so to speak. We weren’t going to let that worry us today though, even after witnessing first hand yesterday how aggressive these things can be.

The walk into Buley Waterhole is only a hundred yards or so from the car park, before it opens up at a series of a dozen or more waterholes of varying sizes and depths, all feed by a continual stream of water which cascades down the rocks from one pool to the next. It was a simple matter of picking out an uncrowded hole, before jumping into the water. Although jumping might not quite be the correct term for the slipping, sliding and falling action we all went through as we tried to negotiate the smooth, water slicked rocks surrounding the pools. Bec found it easiest to slide along the rocks on her butt, shuffling along like a baby, while Heather decided the easiest option was to slip and fall in. I followed suite, not long after I finished laughing at her, while Liz waited until she was trying to get out of the pool to slip, falling to her knees, leaving a chunk of flesh floating down stream and spilling blood into the water. And don’t listen to anything she says, I was actually trying to help her out of the water, not push her back in.

It was well worth the effort though, as we alternated between sitting beneath the cascades, allowing the fast flow to provide us with a massage, drifting about in the forceful current, or just sitting on the sun warmed rocks, with our legs dangling in the cold water.

The gang at Buley Waterhole, just prior to Liz skinning her knee!

It was owing more to the fact that we needed to get back to check on the dogs, than that we grew tired of swimming in the waterholes, that we decided it was time to head back to town. We had initially planned to check out a couple of the other sights within the park, but our swimming antics had kept us busy for much longer than anticipated. It was well worth it however, for the fun that we had.

Just in case you were wondering, yes I do leave my hat on while swimming.

The drive home was uneventful, and after we delivered Liz and Greg back to their accommodation, we were back at our own van, checking in on the babies. Having been left alone all day, they were none the worse for wear, looking like they had spent the entire time sleeping. I’m sure we worry so much more than what they do, although they were excited to see us, bounding about the van, bouncing off the walls and jostling about trying to get into position to get a pat or a cuddle from us.

We weren’t to be home for too long, before Liz and Greg were knocking on our door again. We are off to dinner in town again, and under the guise of ‘if you’re onto a good thing, stick with it’, we are returning to ‘Tims Surf and Turf’. Following the great meal we had there the other night, we were all looking forward to another feed of gigantic proportions, and we weren’t to be disappointed. With prior knowledge of the portion sizes served up, we decided to forgo entrees tonight, and plow straight into the mains, although that didn’t prevent a few of us ordering desserts. I’ll leave it up to your imagination as to who might have been responsible for that though.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

It has been almost a week since we’ve been able to catch an episode of The Shield, and Bec has been having withdrawal symptoms for the last couple of days. So we stayed up until late last night, I think finally switching the idiot box off at around 2:00AM, having sat through 3 episodes. By the time we were done, it felt like I had sand paper lining my eyelids, such was my weariness.

Of course, we only sat up so late, because we knew we could have a sleep in this morning, not having anything organized until early this afternoon. Although, even though I was awake by 10:00AM, my body wasn’t functioning, as my brain tried to play catch up. I was still exhausted, so we spent the morning doing as little as possible. In fact, having to get up to get a bite to eat for breakfast, was probably the sole reason we even extricated ourselves from under the covers, and it wasn’t too long after our cereal bowls were empty and stacked in the sink that we returned to the comfort of the bed to watch a bit more tele.

It was 1:00PM by the time we started to stir again, getting ready to go out, then taking the dogs for a walk. By the time we returned to the van with the dogs, Bethany was suffering from her decision to have a run in the heat of the day. Her tongue was lolling about, and she was panting noisily as we sprayed her with water and aimed the fan at her to cool her down.

Liz and Greg arrived right on time, with no confusion today, at 2:00PM, for the drive out to where the Arnhem Highway crosses the Adelaide River. It is from here that our scheduled jumping crocodile cruise is due to depart. I had my fingers crossed that we would see some crocs today, as we’ve done a crocodile spotting cruise with Liz and Greg previously, on which the crocs were more than elusive. I don’t want to be getting a reputation for organizing dodgy crocodile cruises on which the main attraction remains hidden and out of sight.

The Gang get ready to go crocodile spotting.

I need not have worried today. Embarking upon the Adelaide River Queen II, a two level barge with an open air top deck, we snaffled some seats right at the bow on the upper deck, and no sooner had we left the jetty, than the ominous black shapes of living logs were making their way towards the boat. There were dozens of crocodiles stealthily slinking through the opaque brown water. The large population of local crocodiles are well versed with the timetable of the boat. They know all too well that coming over to the boat and putting on a performance will most likely lead to getting a feed. Thus we were only minutes into our hour long cruise when the deck hand dangled a chunk of fresh pork out over the side of the boat, on a long bamboo pole, looking like an angler waving about an oversized fishing rod.

True to their name, the crocodiles jump vertically out of the water, savagely snapping at the meat that is dangling just out of their reach, until such time that it is deemed they have put on a suitably exciting show for the passengers. This jumping routine is said to be a natural instinct, however as hard as I looked along the shores, I saw no chunks of meat hanging naturally from the riverside brush. A half a dozen or so crocs managed to muscle in on the show, each getting their just reward of a chunk of meat for dinner, while the boat leaned ominously from one side to the other, depending on what side the action was on, and therefore what side the entire complement of passengers was eagerly hanging out over the gunwales, excitedly trying to get that one spectacular photo of a croc spearing upwards out of the murky brown to grab its prize.

Open wide.

…and away.

Up, up…

Being that all of these creatures are well and truly wild and not some farm bred, display specimens, I noted that they all had battle scars of some sort. A missing nose here, or a lost limb there, they have all managed to adapt and survive. That said, one of the larger males has gone unseen for several weeks now, and the story goes that it might have been his time. By that, I think they meant that he had been killed, rather than finding somewhere cosier to shack up and live out his days.

With all of the fun and excitement of the show, our hour was up before we knew it, and we were soon disembarking, back along the low lying jetty, all the more wary of the number of man eating crocs that could be lurking about beneath us.

Just down the road from the cruise centre, we came to the windows on the wetland interpretive centre and lookout. I had read reviews that suggested that there was not too much to be seen here. Being that we were driving straight on past, we thought it prudent to check it out for ourselves though. The complex housed an interactive display explaining the surrounding area that would be great for children, and a viewing deck that took in the 180^o views. A wafting cloud of ashen smoke from a nearby back burning operation hampered the views today however, but it was still worth the effort.

The self proclaimed world famous Humpty Doo Hotel was our next stop, for a hot meal and a cold beer. I had made sure that I rang through to book a table for us, but when we walked in, it seemed a booking might not have been required after all. We were the only people there, and once the waitress finally emerged from a back room, she admitted that she was thankful for something to do. The menu wasn’t overly inspiring, but we all managed to find a dish to order and the meals that made there way out to the table were better than the menu would have had us believe. I was envious of the sky high burger that Liz ordered, but hadn’t been able to help myself, ordering the mixed grill which featured crocodile, barramundi, buffalo and pork. Lets just say that it was something different and while I won’t be rushing back for more crocodile, the jury is still out on the buffalo meat. It was in the form of a patty, so wasn’t as tough as boot leather like I had been advised, and had an indescribably strong flavour that I’m still not too sure about.

By the time we had finished eating and were ready to be on our way again, the bistro had filled to capacity, and I was glad that I had booked after all. For an out of the way little country pub, it really trades on its tourism status, as the bulk of the diners looked like travellers.

We were back at the van by 7:00PM, and ready for a good nights sleep. We’ve got an early morning and a big day planned for tomorrow. Check in tomorrow night to read all about it.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

This morning we spent on our own rather than with our visitors. There was a ton of housework that had to be caught up upon, and I needed to bring my ugly camera cleaning exercise to a conclusion.

I had gone and picked it up yesterday afternoon, only to find that again the battery had been drained of all power, ensuring that I was unable to check that the sensor had been cleaned as promised.

Sticking a battery in it this morning, it was with dismay, although not entirely unexpected, that I found the same scourge of a dust mote was still visible on the photos. I was furious, and stormed off, heading for a showdown at the camera shop. Thankfully the boss was in, as she is the one responsible for the cleaning, and I hadn’t wanted to pay out on one of the staff members for something they have no responsibility over.

Walking in, I dumped the camera on the desk and let her know I wasn’t happy. In her mind, she had cleaned the camera and her test shots had not revealed any remaining dust on the sensor. Thus I showed her the picture I’d taken this morning, resplendent with a huge black mark in the corner, that looked like a bug. She was shocked, as that had not been there when she had finished cleaning the camera. I then showed her a photo I had taken last week, exhibiting the exact same dust mark in the frame.

There was a half hearted offer to clean it again, as she demonstrated her lack of knowledge by telling me that she wasn’t able to see any dust on the sensor as she peered through the viewfinder. Anyone who has an inkling of how an SLR camera operates would know that the sensor is not visible by looking through the viewfinder. She had already lost me by this stage, but I made it known that I was not going to waste anymore of my time waiting for her to try and perform a miracle and clean it competently. So she handed the camera back and said: “There you go then. Goodbye.” That didn’t fly with me. I had paid her for a service, and I stridently let her know that it hadn’t been completed to my satisfaction. “Well I’ll give you your money back then,” she seethed, thrusting a couple of screwed up notes across the counter, as she continued, “Have a good holiday. You know I’m right though!”

Hmm, I was pretty confident that she wasn’t right. Actually, I was 100% confident that she wasn’t right, but I was no longer out of pocket and I have my camera, albeit still dirty, back, so I didn’t even dignify her with a response. Instead I turned around and silently walked out. The whole thing left a sour taste in my mouth though, as I hate being confrontational. I’m not one to complain for no reason, and rarely do unless I am absolutely certain that I’ve been wronged. As a result, I walked out shaking with a mixture of anxiousness and adrenaline more pronounced than I ever felt even yesterday with the crocodile.

By the time I got back to the caravan, where I had left Bec doing the housework, I was walking about on edge, a nervous energy still permeating throughout my body. It was a while before I finally settled down enough to help out with the chores. Then when I did, it took me 45 minutes to sweep out the ensuite. That’s five minutes to do the actual sweeping and 40 minutes chatting away to the neighbour. We’ve at least found a few people about the park that are happy for a chat, I think because we’ve been here a couple of weeks now, we’re not treated as just overnighters.

It was 2:30PM as we wandered down towards the front of the park, Alvin and Bethany in tow, for a quick walk, before being picked up at 3:00PM by Liz and Greg. It was therefore with some surprise that we saw them driving through the gates. It turns out that somewhere along the line last night, we confused what time we were being collected by our gracious chauffers. Whichever way, Liz and Greg hung around as we walked the babies, then finished getting ready. For what it is worth, we were ready to depart right on 3:00PM.

We were headed to see David and Heather at their hotel, for a cheese and crackers afternoon tea, leading into dinner, all accompanied by a single stubby of beer each for the boys. Admittedly, we are talking about the 2 litre flagons of beer, which are known as Darwin Stubbys. Whilst there had been talk of making good use of the hotel pool, the cooler weather saw us staying indoors, where we grazed all afternoon on a selection of nibblies, and sipping on the delicious amber fluid.

I won the race…

…for the first beer.

The girls sat by, also enjoying the odd glass of wine and cider while over the course of the afternoon and evening, with the platters of cheese and crackers, followed by a spread of roast chicken complemented by a selection of salads, food was consumed in equal quantity to drink, and we were all soon stuffed to the gills. The more the alcohol flowed, the taller and more interesting the stories became as the volume of conversation grew in intensity exponentially to the volume of alcohol consumed.

Three Wise Monkeys.

See No Evil…

…Hear No Evil…

…Speak No Evil.

When it came time to head for home, Greg and I were relegated to the back seat of the car and told in no uncertain terms to keep our mouths shut, while Bec tried her best to point Liz in the right direction to return us to the van. We needed only travel on four roads, but at each turn I am sure I heard Bec saying, “I think this is the one our caravan park is on”. Despite the overwhelming odds against us, we did actually arrive back at the van safely and, I have to admit, in good time, where it was time to collapse. A good nights sleep is in order before another adventurous day of exploration tomorrow.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

I didn’t sleep so well again overnight and nor did Bec, but for totally different reasons. I failed to settle as a wave of apprehension washed over me, while Bec was feeling the ill effects of something she had eaten. It was nothing serious, but enough to have her make me clear the ensuite of ‘Frenchies’ in case an emergency visit to the toilet was required during the night. As for me, I was apprehensive about a special activity which I planned for later today, and about which I was having second thoughts.

So poorly did I sleep, despite the alarm being set for 8:30AM, I was up before 8:00AM, which was when I woke to the sound of the rubbish being collected and drowsily remembered that I had forgotten to drag our rubbish bags down to the curb. I half heartedly thought about chasing the trash truck through the park in my jocks, a rubbish bag grasped in each hand. It wasn’t a good look even in my mind, so I thought sparing the other residents the spectacle would be advantageous for all those involved. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried, as I had at some stage before hitting the hay, taken the rubbish out anyway. Even now, I can’t actually recall doing the deed.

It was just before 10:00AM when Liz and Greg rolled up the drive, picking us up for the trip to town. We are congregating at David and Heathers accommodation, before embarking upon todays planned activities. It also gave us a chance to have a bite to eat along with a rousing mug of strong java.

Following our breakfast of doughnuts and coffee, it was only a short walk to Crocosaurus Cove, a wildlife park right in the middle of the Darwin CBD. Heavily skewed towards crocodiles, it was from here that the source of my apprehension stemmed. One of the extras you can sign up for, along with peering through the fences and ponds at crocodiles, is the ‘cage of death’ experience. Enclosed in a plexiglass tube, you are lowered into the pond to swim with a crocodile.

Given that it cost me $160.00 and they had cleverly convinced me to charge it to the plastic yesterday when I booked, there was no escaping the fact that one way or the other, I was going to be getting wet today.

Before my allotted time to enter the cage, we had a chance to look around the complex, starting with a fish feeding display, before moving onto a croc feeding show, where I was reminded of the phenomenal power these beast possess. It didn’t help when the keeper making the announcements suggested that the best case scenario when it comes to a crocodile attack is that it entirely severs a limb, giving you the chance to make a clean, if bloody get away. Just what I needed to hear only minutes out from stepping into the water with one of these prehistoric beasts.

Prior to allowing myself to be dunked into the water like some kind of human teabag, there were forms to sign. I didn’t read it too closely, more out of concern than belief that things wouldn’t go wrong, but it mentioned something about being possibly being exposed to parasites within the water. Are you kidding? I’m about to swim with a crocodile, and they think I’m going to try and sue if I get a stomach ache from ingesting a water borne bug. I would hazard a guess that paragraph two had something to do with loss of limb or life, but I didn’t read that as I hurriedly signed my life away, before I changed my mind.

When my time came, I was pointed down the ladder, into the Perspex tube. About 8 feet high and half that across, with a perforated floor and sluices through the side, to allow it to fill with water, it dangles above the water from a block and tackle. With four crocs on offer, the most active one is chosen for your 15 minutes of fame, as people gather both above the surface and below in the aquarium like viewing channels, all I am sure hoping for a drastic malfunction in the apparatus.

The cage, is then lowered into the chosen tank, and is maneuvered by the staff, in an effort to give you the best and closest look at the crocodile. A croc named ‘Chopper’ was chosen for my adventure, and despite him been swimming about earlier, I feared as I was lowered into the cool water that he was not going to be interested in me. He spent a few minutes sunning himself, just out of reach of my safety cage. Enticed with a couple of chunks of food from above, he was soon on the move, circling my enclosure, as I submerged myself and was able to get within an inch (the thickness of the plexiglass shield) of his ferocious fang like teeth.

Hello from within the ‘Cage Of Death’.

Time for a break.

Here he comes.

Up close and personal.

Did someone call a dentist

Smile crocodile.

What crocodile? Behind me? Where?

I’m coming for you.

Worry, fright and anxiousness were the furthest emotions from my mind, as I gasped lungful after lungful of air, so as to stay beneath the surface for as long as I could, marveling at the slow, measured movements as I was circled like prey by this 5+ metre beast. It was the most exciting and fascinating thing I have ever done. How can one describe the feeling of literally being face to face, eye to eye with a giant man eating, killer crocodile. I’m sure I should have been at least a little bit scared, but like a bird teasing a cat from the safety of its cage, I was safe in the knowledge that so long as I didn’t slip my fingers through the slots in the side of the plastic tube, I could safely revel in the fact that I was doing something that very few people manage to achieve. What a rush! Although all too soon my 15 minutes were up, and I was being raised from the water, a smile as big as a crocodiles spread across my face.

It was then time to return to the van, where we checked in on the babies, before part two of our day. A harbour cruise, on an old, two masted pearl lugger, which was timed to coincide with the setting on the sun. I say timed to coincide, as our efforts to show the rest of the gang a perfect Darwin sunset were again thwarted by a dense cover of cloud. Not that we allowed that to dampen our spirits, as we kicked off our shoes, and lounged about the open deck to enjoy a couple of pleasant hours drifting about the calm waters of the Darwin Harbour. Nibbles and a glass of champagne were provided to assist with our relaxation as we imagined the sun lowering itself below the horizon, beyond the banks of obscuring cloud.

The gang enjoy the sunset.

Owing to its heritage as a former pearl lugger, a display of pearl and nacre objects were laid out, and a taste of $120.00 per kilo pearl meat was offered. I would think that a piece of tenderer rubber could be found for a lot less coin, such was the texture, while the flavor was on the bland side of tasteless.

Docking back at the Cullen Bay Marina, it was decided that the few nibbles passed about during our cruise could not be considered to be sufficient enough to constitute dinner, so we headed back to town in search of an eatery at which to appease our appetite. A convenient Hogs Breath Café fulfilled our desires perfectly, with burgers and fries all round, before we called it a night.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.