I suspected it when I first saw him in the distance.  Then he slipped on his super-cool aviator sunnies* and I knew it for sure. Our pilot and tour guide for the flight over Lake Eyre was a dead ringer** for Freddie Mercury!

Of course looking like the Queen ex-frontman didn’t guarantee anything.  But a top priority—not just for Freddie lookalikes but for ANY pilot—would be to keep yourself alive, wouldn’t it?

Good to know when you’re a nervous flyer waiting for the hammer to fall. Because during the four-hour tour, we’d fly over some of the most remote and inhospitable outback countryside in Australia!

The booking form had a field for total weight including the clothes you’d be wearing on the flight. I was tempted to lie, but figured I’d be outed as a fat-bottomed girl just by turning up. And besides, before Freddie (not his real name!) could make the 13-seater plane spread its wings and fly, he’d need to work a kind of magic and ensure it was properly balanced.

Easier said than done with a range of 13 different body sizes, shapes and weights to fit into super-narrow seats with super-constricting seat belts from which I knew I’d want to break free.

But even under pressure Freddie managed to play the game.  He matched people to seats, made sure our headphones were fully operational, and hurtled down the runway before we could say “God save the Queen”.

Leaving Coober Pedy

After leaving opal mining town Coober Pedy’s distinctive moonscape of mullock heaps*** behind, the first leg of the flight north-east to Lake Eyre North covered some spectacularly arid scenery. That was unsurprising given that the town’s rainfall for the year to date before this mid-June flight had totalled just 19.8 mm (0.8 inches).

Rolling rocky ranges in the rich outback colour palette of ochres, reds and greens unfolded far beneath, and massive dry riverbeds cut feathery patterns into the sand and rock far below.  Trees cast long shadows in the early morning light, and straight roads bisected the dry country below where occasional vehicles seemingly heading into oblivion traversed the endless landscape trailing powdery plumes. Out here in the harsh desert environment, being prepared could determine if another one bites the dust or not.

Although 1974 was the last time its area of 9,500 km² (3668 mi²) was filled to capacity, Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre is Australia’s largest salt lake, and one of the largest in the world.

It also has Australia’s lowest natural point at 15 metres (49 ft) below sea level.  If flying over the lake wasn’t considered cheating, I could tick two more Aussie records off my list.

Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre

After two days experiencing Coober Pedy’s arid conditions and 90 minutes of flying over the dry and dusty desert we were completely unprepared for a volume of water so massive it merged with the horizon.  Larger than life–just like Freddie’s namesake–but really to be expected out here where huge distances, huge landscapes and huge skies are just the norm. As my shutter-button finger went into overdrive, I felt this crazy little thing called love for the outback and its magnificent, but ever-changing panoramas.

From Lake Eyre North, we flew south along the lake’s western edge where flocks of birds could occasionally be seen below. The salt-encrusted lake’s edge contrasted with the colours of the water in a breathtaking array of coloured lines and patterns and tiny vehicles came and went from the Halligan Bay Point camping area.

William Creek

A short time later we were touching down in William Creek for morning tea at Australia’s most remote pub while the plane was being refuelled.  The smallest town in Oz, closest town to Lake Eyre, and home of Wrightsair (our tour operator), its permanent population of three**** was outnumbered by the planes on the runway. Now that water from heavy rains in the northern catchment a few weeks earlier was flowing into Lake Eyre North, Wrightsair scenic tours, especially the flight over Lake Eyre were in hot demand and pilots from all over were working around the clock.

But the show must go on, so Freddie herded us back to the plane for the return flight west to Coober Pedy. Now nearly noon, the day was warming up and the flight over the little-known Anna Creek Painted Hills promised to be the ‘we will rock you’ leg. But who wants to live forever anyway?! The bumpy flight combined with the amount of morning tea some passengers had eaten was a killer combination. But no matter, Freddie had pointed out the on-board barf bags, which ensured it was heaven for everyone!

Anna Creek Station, 34 km (21 mi) from William Creek and 160 km (99 mi) east of Coober Pedy, is the largest working cattle station in the world and at 23,667 km² (9,142 mi²) in area, just a little bigger than Israel or El Salvador or Belize. Station land completely surrounds William Creek, and the property is also over seven times bigger than King Ranch in Texas, often cited as one of the largest in the world.

Anna Creek Painted Hills

The Anna Creek Painted Hills unfolded below in a symphony of colours and shapes.  Only accessible by air and on a guided tour, I could see a lucky tour group exploring the area below and was consumed by jealousy. Was it so wrong to want it all?  A few hundred (give or take) photos later, we left the hills behind—but I knew I was born to love them.

Then in a flash we were flying over the bohemian rhapsody that makes up the distinctive landscape of Coober Pedy’s mullock heaps***, mines, accommodation and rock formations again. With so many hazards on the ground, it was no bicycle race down there. Freddie’s flight radio was going ga-ga as we touched down. But as the plane taxied down the runway, I wanted to scream ‘don’t stop me now’, and turn around to do it all again. It’s a hard life.

Yes, the tour really is that good. Tie your mother down if that’ll get you on a Lake Eyre flight—although I can’t guarantee you’ll be piloted by fab Freddie, who, by the way, obligingly posed for photos once we’d disembarked.

Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre Flight Fast Facts:

Where to find it: Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre is 647 km (402 mi) north-east of Adelaide, and is part of the Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre National Park.

How to get there: Fly or drive to Coober Pedy, 850 km (528 mi) north-west of Adelaide.  From Coober Pedy, it’s a further 166 km (103 mi) to William Creek. The lake is also accessible from Marree at the start of the Oodnadatta Track 655 km (407 mi) north of Adelaide.

Things to do:  Experience the lake from above by taking a flight.  We flew with Wrightsair, based in William Creek and flew from Coober Pedy with a stopover in William Creek.  Flights are also available from Port Augusta, Marree, William Creek, Rawnsley Park (Flinders Ranges) and Parachilna (and some further afield) all of which offer accommodation, although availability should be checked before arrival.

On the ground, drive to the lake via the Oodnadatta Track from Coober Pedy/William Creek or Marree. Campgrounds are available in the National Park, and a Desert Parks Pass is required for access. Extreme care must be taken when travelling in the remote outback (see below for link).

When to go: Although it rarely fills to capacity, Lake Eyre has some water most years, but is most spectacular when flooded by outback rains.  The Australian winter months of June to August are the most comfortable for outback travel.

Want MORE?

• Coober Pedy and William Creek, South Australia
• WrightsAir Scenic Flights
• Photos of Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre and Anna Creek Painted Hills
• Guide to Australian Outback Travel

*  Sunnies = Australian for sunglasses
** Dead Ringer = Aussie slang for lookalike
*** Mullock Heap = a cone-shaped mound of loose stone left over from mining operations
**** According to the Wrightsair website

Pin for Later!

The post Freddie and the Flight over Lake Eyre! Coober Pedy, South Australia appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

They’d scented fresh blood.

And in the deathly silence of twilight as dusk fell over the moonlit plain, I could hear them coming for me.

A million manic mosquitoes, and I couldn’t move a muscle.

Actually, that’s a lie.

I COULD move – but I’d chosen not to. For 3 good reasons.

Firstly, listening for the call of the enigmatic Plains Wanderer – Australia’s first and world’s fourth most important endangered bird species according to the Zoological Society of London – required absolute stillness and quiet.

I was standing on the Hay Plain – flattest place in OZ, 200 km deep, 300 km wide AND with spring grasses as high as a Plains-Wanderer’s eye.

2 words. Needle. Haystack.

If we didn’t hear one, we’d never know where to start looking.

Secondly, the Plains Wanderer Weekend tours near Deniliquin in rural New South Wales @ $300+ per head were only run a few times each year. And often booked out months, sometimes years in advance.

This might be our only chance to see one – and the only chance for other birdos* on the tour, some from overseas.

Thirdly, in our tour group of 8, I was the only non-birdo. NO WAY was I going to be that person who spooked the Plains Wanderer and blew the REAL birdos chances of seeing it.

Even if that meant staying completely motionless and letting the mozzies** suck out every drop of my blood in a zombie-apocalypse-meets-mosquito-massacre until the dried out husk of my body fell soundlessly to the soil.

So, resisting the urge to slap the little suckers silly, I stayed stock still (in alliterative admiration).

But all I could hear was the frenzied whining of a million*** mini dentist drills. And all I could see were mosquito trails across the sunset as the swarm moved in for the kill.

If the Plains Wanderers were out there, they were lying doggo****.

Unlike the mozzies now covering the back of Pilchard’s hat.

Turns out in the absence of fresh blood, the mosquitoes make do with whatever they could find!

My descent into mosquito hell had started over 12 hours before at 6 am. We’d joined six other tour participants and two guides for a full-on tour of Deni***** birding hot spots, starting with the River Walk.

Or would have but for the simultaneous opening all 13 Hume Dam overflow gates resulting – unsurprisingly – in flooding.  The waters rose so rapidly the Edward River was already lapping at the levee banks when we’d arrived in Deni a couple of days before.

Ground-breaking water management technique – or simple cause and effect equation? YOU decide!

Weirdly, the swift and silent river flowing a few metres away didn’t bother us, even when the water level rose higher than our campsite at the excellent Deniliquin Riverside Caravan Park. But the flooding can’t have been much fun for Deni locals as roads, campgrounds, holiday shacks and the sports ground all went under.

But any photographer with a thing for reflections knows what to do when the water’s running high.

AND any birdo worth their binoculars knows that waterbirds LOVE ‘wetlands’, even if everyone else calls them ‘swamps’.

The lingo is just one of several ways birding pretenders like me can distinguish REAL birdos from everyone else.

There’s the obvious ones like surgically attached binoculars and a general inability to maintain a conversation when a bird – ANY (feathered) bird – comes into view.  Then there’s the dark side – like arguments about features and id, and the fact it’s just NOT POSSIBLE for a non-birder to see a rare or unusual bird BEFORE the real birder.

I thought I’d seen a Plains Wanderer once before on a remote Queensland roadside.

The bird was in the EXACT SAME pose as the picture of the Plains Wanderer in the bird book. Pilchard didn’t see it, but was able to state with absolute certainty it WAS NOT a Plains Wanderer. It probably wasn’t, but that confident non-id became a bit of a thing.

A higher level bit of a thing happened when we stayed at a birding reserve with a birding tour led by a well known university (read: mega-important) birder.

During the evening bird report (yes, people really DO spend the evening listing birds they’ve seen for fun), Pilchard called a not-so-common bird, listing several reasons to nail the id.

Big Birdo (as I dubbed him) loudly disagreed.

The bird had NEVER been seen in this spot.

Then another birder confirmed the sighting.

Big Birdo shook his head again. Not possible.  He’d been coming to this site for 10 years and had NEVER seen it, although he couldn’t come up with an alternative id.  Apparently, if the bird was going to show itself to anyone, it’d be Big Birdo as he had seniority.

Who says birding isn’t a contact sport?!

But I digress.

Luckily, the Plains Wanderer weekend tour wasn’t besieged by Big Birdo’s Buddies – just as well given Pilchard and I shared a car with 2 other birders and a guide for the 1½ days and 123 bird species we saw on the tour.   (Of course you will immediately recognise the Dollar Bird in the middle photo, haha)(yes, it’s the blob on the branch)(no, I’m not a bird photographer either).

But everyone was waiting for evening and the main event – hunting the wild Plains Wanderer. I managed to get a few sunset shots in between bird sightings, but as night fell, the mosquito massacre began in earnest.

Unless (unlike us) you’re very lucky, finding a Plains Wanderer requires patience and stamina. They’re (apparently) curious and if disturbed, they’ll (supposedly) stick their heads up to see what’s happening. In reality, a smallish bird – max height 19 cm (7½ inches) – sticking its head out above grass level at the  exact right moment on a plain bigger than Denmark has lower odds than winning the lottery.

My personal theory, based on the number of Plains Wanderers we didn’t see, is that they’re sitting pretty hoping like hell the big SUVs with bright lights driving slowly in circles will just go away. But what would I know. I’m SO not a twitcher******!

Happily, I don’t get car sick. But after several hours my face was freezing cold, my hands numb from mozzie bites and I was brain dead from peering out the window into the semi-darkness. I might not be a real birdo, but I wasn’t going to be the one who wasn’t looking at the critical moment.

I don’t recall who finally won ‘Twitcher of the Tour’ for first Plains Wanderer sighting at around midnight, except that it wasn’t me. But I got to see it all the same.

I stayed out of the post-sighting phone call frenzy – I just didn’t know anyone who’d be thrilled to hear about my rare bird sightings at 12 am. Perhaps I move in the wrong circles.

At around 1:00 am, 19 hours after Day 1 started, we returned to the caravan park, re-convening at 8:30 am after an all-too-short sleep break for the final half-day. Despite some interesting sightings and more mosquito hell at the ‘wetland’, nothing compared with the previous night’s thrill of seeing the rare Plains Wanderer, a true Aussie Oddity and the only representative of its family and genus.

Even for this non-birder, the Plains Wanderer Weekend tour was a BIG success. I survived the mosquitoes. I’ve been to birding hot spots not open to the public. I’ve got rare photos of the floodwaters – happily on the right side of the levee banks – some complete with scenic loos. I didn’t blow my non-birdo cover.

And I now know for sure I really HAVE seen the elusive Plains Wanderer!

Fast Facts:

Where: Deniliquin, generally on the banks of the Edward River and not in it, is 77 km north of Echuca/Moama on the NSW/Victoria border. It’s 725 kilometres (450 miles) south west of Sydney and 285 kilometres (177 miles) north of Melbourne.

What: The Plains Wanderer Weekend Tour is run by Philip and Patricia Maher of Australian Ornithological Services.  In addition to looking for the Plains Wanderer, tours cover birding sites in and around Deniliquin, including some places and habitats not open to the general public.

When: Tours are generally conducted during spring (Sept-Nov in Australia). Check the website below for tour dates and booking instructions.

Want MORE?

• Deniliquin, New South Wales
• Australian Ornithological Services (Plains Wanderer and many other Birding Tours)
• Plains Wanderer (Pedionomus torquatus)
• Deniliquin Riverside Caravan Park
• MORE Phots of Deniliquin on Flickr
• MORE Red Nomad OZ Birding Adventures

* Birdo = Birdwatcher

** Mozzies = Mosquitoes

*** Exaggerating? Well … YOU count them!

**** Lying Doggo = keeping out of sight

***** Deni = Deniliquin! But you knew that, right?!

****** Twitcher = Obsessive Birdo

The post Hunting the Wild Plains Wanderer – Deniliquin, New South Wales appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

I’m always on the lookout for unusual Aussie places. But staying in a Tuberculosis Sanatorium SO wasn’t on my radar.

Even if it DID have a staggeringly scenic loo and a killer view of the Heysen Range in South Australia’s Northern Flinders Ranges.

Angorichina Tourist Village – ‘Ango’ to the locals – about half-way along the 30 km (19 mile) stretch of dirt road between Parachilna and South Australia’s highest town Blinman is one of those rare places with a little bit of everything. Built after World War 1 as a retreat for servicemen with tuberculosis, it’s got one of Australia’s most picturesque campgrounds.

AND gave us the chance to practice our mud-running skills when the rain that started a couple of hours before we left turned the road from gravel to a miry dirt soup!

Here’s what WE got up to at Ango!

Nuccaleena Mine and Glass Gorge

Sliding down a treacherously steep scree-covered slope awash with potentially toxic mine site leavings from the century before last could have been responsible.

Or perhaps lurching sideways to (unsuccessfully) avoid the sharp rocks littering the embankment AND (sucessfully) avoiding the gaping adit* directly below them might have done the trick.

Either way, I’d ripped the seat out of my jeans and had a prickle in my bum.

The bad luck that plagued what is arguably Australia’s least successful mine – investments of over £57,000 with a return of only £13,000 – had clearly rubbed off on me!

But Nuccaleena isn’t just a long-deserted copper mine site with a transferrable death wish – it’s at the end of a remote 4WD Public Access Route** with enough rugged road, creek crossings, tyre-shredding rocks, erosion AND killer scenery photo stops to make the last 14 km (8.7 miles) of the 36 km (22 miles) drive from Angorichina Village take nearly an hour of fun-filled 4WD fantasy!

For those like us with less clearance and less experience in the Boys Own Adventure art of Four Wheel Driving, that is.

It’s hard to imagine a full scale mining operation in this remote spot despite a number of building ruins, an 85 metre (279 feet) long tunnel (a trap for dead kangaroos) and stunning scenery all around. It’s all great fun to explore – if you’re alert to mine shafts, falling rocks, rotting wood and slippery slopes. And stray Spinifex!

But the odds of YOU ending up with a piece of spinifex embedded in YOUR derriére are much reduced if you choose NOT to use my tried and tested mountainside descent method …

Return the same way, or drive a scenic loop via Glass Gorge and Blinman to Angorichina, 47 km (29 miles) from Nuccaleena.

MORE about Nuccaleena Mine

Blinman Pools Hike

I’m not sure who owned the Reg Grundys*** sodden and forgotten on the rocks of Blinman Creek. And I didn’t want to think how they got there! But the smart money was on one of the hot young blokes in the school group who trotted past us en route to Blinman Pools. As they passed, one of the responsible adults confided that the boys were keen for a swim despite the nearly sub-zero winter temperature of the water.

The even smarter money said it wasn’t ME they were trying to impress.

Hiker information about the 10 km (6.2 mile) return hike from Angorichina Village to the first pool describes the walk as ‘challenging’, with multiple creek crossings, rock-hopping, some steep climbs (ie up a waterfall) and a sometimes unmarked track.

Despite that, finding the first pool is a no-brainer – just keep walking up the dry creek bed! Interesting rock formations, gorges, cliffs, an island, pools, wildlife and a waterfall make this a varied and interesting hike.

The second pool is only another kilometre upstream, but we gave it a miss left it for next time. I took 2 ¾ hours (with MANY photo and exploratory stops) to walk the 5 km upstream; and 2 hours to return – possibly because the track was easier to find while walking downstream!

The hot young things were long gone by the time I returned to Ango. No one gets to challenge ME for my title of Australia’s slowest hiker! But I’m still wondering if the hapless owner of the Reg Grundys underestimated the effect near-freezing water would have on his ability to impress the girls?!?!

MORE about Blinman Pools Hike

Mt Emily and the Great Wall of China

If you’re looking for the longest man-made structure in the world snaking across the landscape for hundreds of kilometres and reportedly visible from the moon, you’ll probably be disappointed with Mount Emily’s Great Wall of China. For the real thing, spend the bucks and head overseas.

But for the all-natural Aussie cheapskate version, take the road to Hawker for about 15 km (9.3 miles) south of Blinman (29 km from Ango), and check out Mt Emily!! It’s one of quite a few natural rock formations downunder with the words ‘Great’, ‘China’ and ‘Wall’ in their names – no one accuses us Aussies of overactive imaginations in the place-name stakes!

Mt Emily’s a great spot to have lunch especially with a traditional Cornish pasty (watch out for the dessert at one end) and/or Quandong Pie (trust me – get BOTH!) from the excellent Blinman General Store and Bakery.

Besides, the REAL Great Wall of China ISN’T the longest man-made structure on earth – that honour goes to the all-Australian Dingo Fence!

The Heysen Trail and Parachilna Gorge

The sun was getting very low in the sky as we headed out for a late afternoon stroll along the Heysen Trail – the iconic 1200 km hiking track through quite a LOT of South Australia. It starts (or ends) in Parachilna Gorge just a few kilometres west of Angorichina and ends (or starts!) in Cape Jervis on the Fleurieu Peninsula.

1200 km was a bit far for a casual stroll, so we took the shorter 6 km return option – or would have if a case of terminal laziness and LOTS of photos hadn’t meant we didn’t make it to Parachilna Gorge at Wild Dog Creek****. But walking a short way along the trail through massive dry creek beds, along spinifex-laden slopes and between a staggering array of mountains meant I could channel the late, great artist Sir Hans Heysen OBE for whom the trail is named.

With photos, anyway – I’ll never be an artist!

It’s no accident that the Heysen Trail starts here, in Parachilna Gorge. Some of Sir Hans’ best known works – The Land of the Oratunga (1932); Aroona (1939); Patawarta , Land of the Oratunga (1929); In the Flinders Far North (1951); and The Three Sisters of Aroona (1927) were painted right here in the Northern Flinders Ranges.

Where even a non-artist like me is moved to attempt to capture the magnificent scenery at sunset in these photos all taken within just a kilometre or so from the trailhead. Luckily, we had a watertight excuse to get back – after dark, the road is awash with kangaroos!

MORE about Sir Hans Heysen 

MORE about the Heysen Trail

Blinman Mine Tour and Walking Trail

NIL = Amount of time spent by me channelling Cornish Miners in Australia before doing the Blinman Mine Tour.

That’s why I didn’t know what chipping out tunnels and stopes with a hammer, chisel and explosives, lit only with candles and protected only by a leather helmet inside the equivalent of an underground 50-odd storey building for 12 hours a day, 6 days a week felt like.

Praise be that I still don’t know what it REALLY feels like, but after an hour on the excellent Blinman Mine Tour and the 1 km self-guided interpretive walk around sections of the mine site above the surface, I had a pretty good idea.

And it’s not something I’m planning to willingly try any time soon

Unlike the Nuccaleena Mine, Blinman’s Mine Tour goes deep underground – which makes it MUCH easier to channel those Cornish miners, despite the hard helmets and lights the miners never had. And without the killer dust from the drilling, explosives and a few hundred miners jostling for position under the surface at any given time. And spending only 1/12 th of the time underground than the average miner spent on a shift.

Actually, perhaps it’s NOT that easy to channel a Cornish miner’s experience after all.

These days, with modern mining techniques and machinery, the section of the Blinman Mine that took 8 years to tunnel out would only take a couple of weeks. And while it’d leave a dirty great hole in the ground instead of the intricate network of shafts and stopes inside the Mine, the chances of modern day miners being affected by silicosis of the lungs, fatal injuries and unpleasant working conditions like their counterparts of yesteryear would be virtually NIL!

Contact The Blinman Mine Office for current prices (my July 2015 tour cost $27.50 for an adult ticket; there are concessions and cheaper prices for children and families.

MORE about Blinman and the Blinman Mine Tour 

Angorichina Fast Facts:

WHERE: 500 km north of Adelaide, South Australia.

HOW to get there: Travel north from Hawker to either Parachilna or Blinman. From Parachilna, turn right and travel for 15 km along a dirt road through Parachilna Gorge. From Blinman, turn left and travel for 14 km along a dirt road.

WHEN: Angorichina Tourist Village is closed in summer. The Heysen Trail is closed during the fire ban season from November to March.

WHAT’S THERE: Campground (powered & unpowered sites); Self-contained accommodation; General Store (supplies, alcohol, souvenirs); Workshop for minor repairs including tyres; Mountain bike hire.

Want MORE?

• Angorichina Tourist Village, Northern Flinders Ranges
• Flinders Ranges, South Australia 
• Flinders Ranges and Outback Touring Guide 
• MORE Angorichina Photos on Flickr HERE!

* Adit = Mine opening (as any crossword aficionado will tell you!)

** Public Access Route = a through track or road on private property on which permission to enter the property is not required

*** Reg Grundys = undies = underwear (Aussie rhyming slang!

**** Wild Dog = Dingo. Wild Dog Creek = one of the most common creek names in Australia!

The post 5 Amazing Angorichina Adventures! Northern Flinders Ranges, South Australia appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

‘There it is,’ shouted Pilchard, pointing towards the bank. I looked, but there was only an old tyre on the edge of the water nestled in the grass. Typical bloke. All excited about nothing. The boat moved closer to the river banks.

‘Where?’ I whined as cameras clicked all around me. Damn! If everyone else could see a monster crocodile, why couldn’t I? The boat edged even closer, heading right for the tyre on the grass.

‘There! There!’ Pilchard stabbed the air in a pointing frenzy. ‘If you can’t see it now, I can’t help you,’ he eventually shrugged, lifting his binoculars.

‘All I can see is that old tyre,’ I said, readying my camera anyway.

‘Look again! That’s NOT a tyre,’ Pilchard laughed as it finally clicked. And so did my camera. Better late than never, huh?

Half an hour later I’d seen more crocodiles than in the rest of my whole life AND Pilchards put together.

A lot of the bigger ones had names. Lord Lizard. Whitey. Old Broken Jaw.

Weirdly, there weren’t any called Freakin’ Scary.

There should have been.

As six scary metres (nearly 20 feet) of leather-coated muscle, razor sharp teeth and pre-historic cunning slid silently into the current swirling around our cruise boat on the Victoria River we waited for those cold yellow eyes to appear in the brownish water downstream.

They didn’t.

If he (yes, I’ve assumed this macho melange of features to be male) surfaced directly under us, it SO wouldn’t be a good time to find out the purpose-built M.V Fleetwing wasn’t croc-proof! But that was just one of the hazards of taking a tour into the wilderness along the Northern Territory’s Victoria River – arguably Australia’s wildest.

The high crocodile count so far wasn’t doing anything to disprove it.

And neither was the scenery. As we raced 35 km (~22 miles) down the river towards our date with a Northern Territory sunset, the late afternoon glow was already lighting up the cliffs and escarpments of the wild and remote Yambarrin Ranges above the rivers broad, brown expanse.

Yes, brown. Just perfect for a crocodile to disappear in …

But the Victoria River Sunset Cruise isn’t just about crocodiles. Or sunset. From the Croc Stock Shop, owned and run by locals Meredith and Neville Fogarty, the 1971 bus took a roundabout route to the jetty at Big Horse Creek via some of the historic points of interest in and around Timber Creek.

So if the Suicide Tree, Timber Creek Musuem, Gregory’s Tree, Policeman’s Point, Live Croc feeding at the caravan park and the Bradshaw Field Training Area’s Bridge to Nowhere – with its vast array of signs warning of the horrible things that could, and WOULD happen to trespassers – sound intriguing to you, you’ll know why we stayed an extra day to explore. And if you stay tuned to this blog, you’ll eventually find out all about them AND get to read about our nightmare camper from hell story!

But I digress …

The Victoria River doesn’t discriminate between Australia’s two crocodile species, and neither do I. They’re BOTH scary – although the

smaller freshwater croc isn’t known for its murderous tendencies towards humans. So despite the distractions of the superb Top End dry season scenery, I kept my eyes on the water.

As we passed the gravel islands and sandbanks mid-river, the massive saltwater crocodiles we’d seen earlier gave way to the smaller freshies.

Was it a coincidence that the bird life increased, with Jabiru (actual name Black-necked Stork), White-bellied Sea Eagles, Whistling Kites – and the strange sight of an Australasian Bustard in full flight?

The croc sightings of any variety dropped off altogether as we drew level with the mid-river pontoon – another purpose-built structure surrounded by a cage of the extra-strength wire mesh that (we hoped) made it croc-proof. But this, and the superb array of hot and cold nibbles and drinks weren’t the only things to make this sunset memorable.

What do you do when nature calls and you’re in the middle of the wildest – and probably most crocodile-infested – river in Australia?

You visit the pontoon loo – scenic enough to deserve its own post AND one of the coveted spots in my book – of course!

As we drank in our drinks, inhaled the superb array of hot and cold snacks and drank in the awesome scenery, the sun set in a blaze of gold against the clear sky, it’s final rays silhouetting the dramatic escarpment reflected in the river below. A houseboat floated over by the river banks and wallabies grazed on the grassy river flats downstream.

Magical. Memorable. Magnificent.

‘Wouldn’t it be great if a crocodile took one of those wallabies?’ a fellow passenger, drink in hand, stage-whispered to her husband, breaking the hushed silence.

Silly me.

Of COURSE that’s just what a panorama like the one above needed to bring it alive! Seeing a defenceless animal massacred by a crocodile right in front of us against that awesome backdrop of setting sun, ragged mountains and broad river would be the perfect way to round out the most sensational sunset experience ever. Wouldn’t it?!?!

NOT!

I guess I just don’t have that bloodthirsty gene.

Anyway, everyone knows the Victoria River crocs are too well fed! Taking the cattle from the local stations as they graze the river banks is a cinch. And stealing barramundi straight off the line if the fisherfolk are too slow to bring them in is too easy.

Who needs a wallaby-hors-d’oeuvre anyway?

All too soon our time was up and we reluctantly finished up the snacks, left the loo behind and the wallabies intact and jetted back down the river with the sun’s last rays at our backs as the moon rose ahead.

If I hadn’t been too busy taking photos of the incredible scenery, I may have seen another crocodile – or two or three.

But by then I didn’t care.

Want your own croc experience but don’t have any transport?  Start here with the best flights!

Fast Facts:

What: The Victoria River Cruise 3½ hour, 70 km round trip Sunset Wilderness Cruise

Where: Timber Creek, 285 km SW from Katherine along the Victoria Highway, Northern Territory

When: Daily from April to September (see website for exact dates)

Cost: $95 per adult, $50 per child (as at 13/2/15)

How to get there: Self-drive to Timber Creek from Darwin or Katherine from the east; Kununurra from the west. Or get up north REAL quick by checking out these cheap flights!

Want MORE?

• Victoria River Cruise via Timber Creek, Northern Territory
• Victoria River Roadhouse, Northern Territory
• RedzAustralia Crocodile Hot Spots
• MORE Victoria River Region Photos on Flickr

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Next Post: Aussie ABC – S is for Slang      Previous Post: The Ten Commandants

Disclosure: Pilchard and I booked and paid full price for our Victoria River Sunset cruise and did not ask for or receive any discounts or concessions.

The post Cruising with Crocodiles on Australia’s WILDEST River appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

Maybe the multiple crocodile sightings did it.

Or the 70 km (~45 miles) cruise from the Timber Creek landing to the middle of nowhere.

Or perhaps the sunset drinks and snacks, taken incongruously in the middle of the crocodile-infested Victoria River were responsible.

Whatever it was, the public amenities on the purpose-built pontoon where we took a break from crocodile spotting to admire the staggering view were most welcome.

And while they’re not really PUBLIC – use of them comes with passage on the excellent Victoria River Cruise run by Timber Creek locals, Neville & Meredith Fogarty – they’re undeniably scenic!

With an added frisson of excitement – and uncertainty – from the crocs that may – or may not – be lurking all around.

After watching a couple of 5-6 metre crocodiles disappear from the riverbank into the water without a trace further upstream, the crocs could be anywhere!

And that included right under our pontoon!!

Praise be for heavy duty steel!!

But after an event-free hiatus aboard the pontoon – that is, if viewing the 360° splendid grandeur of Australia’s wildest river while eating a splendid spread of nibbles washed down with drinks doesn’t count as an ‘event’ – we returned to Timber Creek as the sun set and the moon rose over the river.

With a panorama so heart-stoppingly magnificent the crocs were forgotten!

This spectacular and unique scenic public toilet is one of 60 amazing loos from all around Australia featured in my book “Aussie Loos with Views!”

It’s a pleasure doing business here – and in all the others!  Have I included YOUR favourites?  Grab a copy and see for yourself!

Want MORE?

• Victoria River Cruises
• Timber Creek, Northern Territory
• 7 Crocodile Spotting Hot Spots in the Top End
• Australia’s Scenic Public Toilets

The post Australia’s Scenic Public Toilets #29 – Crocodile Cruise Conveniences! appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

We Arrive on Green Island

Although it was 20 LOOOONG years since our last Green Island National Park visit, Pilchard’s first action on our return just MAY have been a little bit extreme.

I mean, propelling a perfectly good hat into the sea wasn’t some kind of superstitious ritual, was it? Did he perhaps think it meant we wouldn’t have to wait another 20 years before our next visit??

But the capricious gust of wind that had plucked the hat from Pilchard’s head and flung it into the depths where it sank like a stone was pure accident.

AND embarrassing.

From the frenzied clicking and suppressed giggles behind us, I strongly suspected the whole episode had been captured on film …

Our return to Green Island wasn’t going well …

Green Island – the Facts!

The 12 hectare rainforest-covered coral cay – known as the Green Island Recreation Area – is one of the most popular and accessible tourist destinations in the Great Barrier Reef, a short 27 km (~17 miles) boat trip from Far North Queensland’s Cairns.

Green Island’s Fascinating Past

Estimated to be several thousand years old, post-colonial plunder and exploitation have threatened the island’s continued existence since its charting and naming by Captain James Cook in 1770. But luckily, the multi-layered protection that several regulatory authorities jointly brings will prevent further structural, environmental and biological damage, given the accountability and harmony so often seen in competing bureaucracies. Right???

But changes to the island landscape since 1770 are far greater than those observed by Pilchard and I after our 20-year hiatus! Green Island’s new (to us!) interpretive boardwalk charts the effects of human interaction – and the changing demands for its resources.

From Guru-Gulu Gungandji Indigenous people’s hunting and initiation ceremony site to present day recreation area of reef, resort and National Park has been a long and bumpy road for this beautiful spot.

‘Plunder’ and ‘pillage’ the 1800’s themes, the island was exploited trashed cleared by bêche de mer fishermen who had no use for pristine rainforest and reef while involved in this labour-intensive industry. But in the 100+ years since the processing plant, living quarters and gardens replaced the forest, it’s grown back completely – with 134 charted plant species today.

During this time drunken ‘picnic’ parties, like those described in this postcard facsimile above, decimated island resources with activities including, but not exclusive to dynamiting fish, shooting birds and souveniring coral!

In what the unkind may describe as ‘poetic justice’, one local character’s arm was amputated after a nasty accident with the dynamite while ‘fishing’! Could this have been the rise of the notorious Aussie ‘yobbo’**??

In an almost complete turnaround, the island’s potential for tourism was exploited developed in the 1900’s complete with world firsts – including glass bottomed boats for underwater viewing, films of life on the Barrier Reef and Cassius, the largest crocodile (5.5m or 18′) in captivity in the only crocodile farm – Marineland Melanesia – on a coral cay. If that’s important.

Green Island – Now What?

now, around 300,000 tourists visit Green Island each year, continuing to exploit its resources, albeit more sustainably. In theory, anyway – imagine the impact of so many on the beaches, coral reefs, walks and wildlife.

But the multi-layered management model would have changed all this for the better, right? Well … look at what’s changed in the last 20 years – do the changes contribute to island sustainability? Or are they just cosmetic? You decide!!

20 years ago, you got a Green Island cruise or day-trip – now it’s a Green Island ‘Eco-Adventure’, although weirdly, most activities haven’t changed … and neither has the snorkelling equipment!!! How jealous would my friends have been in the early 90’s to hear about my Eco-Adventure!!

20 years ago, visitors could cross the island on a dirt track through the centre, and the only restricted areas were the resort grounds, and crocodile farm (as if you needed to be told that!!). Now, a boardwalk follows the beach, leaving the centre free from human activity. Oddly, the ‘walk’ from one side to the other is now marketed as a ‘self-guided tour’!

20 years ago, Emerald doves wandered the forest floor – but now, after a successful rat eradication program, large numbers of Buff-banded Rail aggressively hunt and gather from the main food court – and appear to be the only ground-based fauna. Like house-guests from hell, they bathe (and defecate) in the pool, snatch food from unwitting tourists, and hog the best sunbathing spots. In a strange zoological reversal, tourists unable to fend them off are invited to eat in a wire mesh enclosure (aka ‘cage’) the birds can’t enter …  The attractively marked Buff-banded Rail normally shuns human contact, so getting a close look at one isn’t that easy. But now? I don’t care if I never see another one …

20 years ago you were left to your own devices upon arrival on the island – now, there are warnings for the aged. Apparently a high risk group, tourists aged 50+ (aka ‘old’) are encouraged to alert the lifeguard when entering the water in case the exertion is too much. Although the only danger I faced was from Pilchard himself when I offered to tell the lifeguard that he was about to go snorkelling.

Green Island’s Natural Attractions

But these are minor points in the context of the magnificent beauty of the natural attractions. Broad white beaches. Water so clear and blue you could spot a hat through it. Superb corals, giant clams and fish. Lush, green rainforest. Ample birdwatching opportunities. Turtle spotting. And the ultimate? Whale watching!!

Sitting on a shady beach after the trauma of keeping our reef fish wraps and chips** from the hovering anxiety of a brace of Buff-banded Rail, we watched a pod of whates frolicking for a good 30 minutes before they moved out of sight. Then, another pod was spotted from the return ferry. Happily not required for scientific testing that day, the whales were free to cavort for the Aussie, American, French and Japanese photographers lucky enough – and thrilled – to capture them on film.

A stunning end to a fabulous day, our return to Green Island had certainly picked up from its inauspicious beginning.

SO … will we return? Hell, yes! After all, we’ve got Pilchard’s hat to look for …

* Yobbo = Aussie term of endearment for people (usually blokes) who indulge in ‘exuberant’ behaviour, usually taking the format of alcohol-fuelled best mate bonding sessions involving various combinations of camping, fishing, barbecues, hunting and cruising.

** Chips = fries

The post Return to Green Island – via Cairns, Far North Queensland appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

Although now you’re thinking the pictures look a bit dull, right?  Well … this is what happens at dawn on a cloudy day.  Deal with it.

After narrowing the choice by eliminating ‘photography’ cruises (click HERE for my views on giant lenses) and cruises focusing on crocodile spotting (croc spotters and birdwatchers are pretty much mutually exclusive), we rang #1 on the order of merit and got an answering service! SO … #2 – Daintree River Wild Watch – was the lucky winner! Besides, how could we go wrong with a guide called Ian ‘Sauce’ Worcester?!

Wild splashing of heavy creatures upriver reminded us of the smallness of the boat relative to, say, a 4 metre (12+ft) crocodile, but Sauce pronounced the splashing most likely to be fish – hippos being unknown in these parts!  If so, several small Pacific nations could dine in style for a week on one of those babies. And yes, I shrieked like a girl while passing under a tree with a green tree snake cunningly camouflaged in the branches directly above, but hell … I AM a girl! It makes no difference whatsoever that the green tree snake isn’t venemous. Or that no one has died of green tree snake bite in living memory. As any reasonable person would know!! But I digress …

A post-cruise breakfast in Daintree village on a bird filled verandah (was that Sauce in the next room knocking back a hearty meal?!) prolonged the cruise euphoria. As we reluctantly left this divine spot behind, our departure route followed the stretch of the Daintree river we’d just cruised.  As we rounded a bend with a clear view over the river, we experienced our first absolutely unassisted crocodile sighting! Yes, you can see it too if you click on the photo and take a look on the sandbank (one day I MUST get a camera with a bigger zoom …) – that speck on the sandbank is a croc about 3 metres (~10ft) long, and we’d cruised past that same sandbank about an hour before in a tiny boat!! Maybe there’s a closet croc-spotter lurking in this amateur birdwatcher’s heart after all …

The post Don’t Miss This!! Daintree River Dawn Cruise, Far North Queensland appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.