Tomato Island to Darwin
Wow – the last couple of weeks have really slipped by.
Tomato Island
Our next destination was Tomato Island which used to be a
fishing camp until it was declared part of the Limmen National Park a couple of
years ago. New facilities were
being completed when we drove through last year, and everybody we spoke to this
time had either been there, or was going there.
Fishermen stay here for months but it wasn’t too busy when we arrived, so we found a dusty spot and wandered down for afternoon drinks with the locals. Not quite what we’d experienced up till now, with a couple of guys telling raunchy jokes and bush poetry. We were definitely the outsiders, but were made very welcome. They take their fishing very seriously up here and the man in the red bus had 11x 44 gallon drums just for boat fuel.
We put the little boat in, and had it moored for easy
access, relatively safe from marauding crocodiles.
Nobody caught any Barra, or anything else while we were
there, so we were pleased to know it wasn’t just our fishing skills (or lack
of).
We left Tomato Island 2 days later, and after doing this
route last year, agreed that this badly corrugated stretch of the Savannah Way
isn’t worth repeating any time soon.
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On our way out we stopped at the Roper Bar Store for fuel
($2.20 litre) and a hamburger. The
store services a large Aboriginal community and the hamburgers came highly
recommended. We agreed that it was
the best hamburger we’d ever eaten.
Juicy and delicious loaded with bacon, cheese, pineapple, meat and salad.
We ordered 1 each and were full as googs by the time we’d finished.
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Roper Bar Store – Serving the best burgers and the only fuel for hundreds of
kilometres
Katherine
Driving into Katherine was a shock after our previous 3
weeks in the bush. There was a set
of traffic lights (which we had to stop at) and overflowing with hundreds of
grey nomads and backpackers. There
were caravans and Britz vans everywhere.
We stayed 3 days which gave us time to wash the car,
caravan, bikes, mats and anything else covered in red dirt.
Our nearest neighbours had been here for 8 weeks.
They didn’t do much at all during the day, and their bicycles had only
been used twice. They were very
relaxed and just glad to be out of the Canberra cold.
We’re baffled why they chose Katherine, but hey, each to their own.
As disappointing as ever was the number of Indigenous youth
wandering aimlessly around the streets.
There aren’t enough people to fill the jobs in shops, because the only
people willing to work are either backpackers, or white Katherine residents.
It is frustrating to see our taxes being spent on supporting people who
don’t want to contribute in any way, but happy to receive their fortnightly
payments.
A typical scene was a bunch of Indigenous folk sitting on
the grass socialising, their rubbish scattered all around them, and a Council
worker cleaning it up. Petrol
sniffing is rife as well as methylated spirits, and even sniffing aerosol
deodorant is a hit now.
During our time at Brunette Downs Races, we noted that one
competitor was the owner of the Rod & Rifle Fishing Shop in Katherine.
He seemed like the right person to give us some sound advice on catching
Barra. He was really helpful and
happy to answer all our fishing questions, no matter how silly they were.
He loved a chat and updated us on information about the man
who was dragged out of his tinny by a crocodile at Kakadu NP earlier in the
year. He knows the policeman who
was first at the scene and it seems that the guy was standing in the water next
to his tinny washing a bucket of fish scraps.
This was an open invitation for the croc to snatch him by the leg, not
drag him out of his boat as reported, although nothing has been confirmed until
the autopsy results are released.
Knowing that crocodiles generally don’t pull people out of boats made us feel a
lot better about our upcoming foray into the crocodile infested Daly River.
As we headed north out of Katherine we had to stop to let
this 9 metre building past.
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Daly River Mango Farm Camping
It was time to get away from the grey nomads so drove
northwest to the beautiful Daly River Mango Tree camping ground.
The Daly River is the most famous place
in all of Northern Territory for catching Barramundi so we were pretty sure we’d
have some luck. Daly River Barra
prefer live Cherabin (fresh water prawns) to eat, but first we had to catch
them.
Launching the boat in croc infested waters is scary but we
know the rules. Never turn your
back on the water, stay out of the water, always keep a look out and never clean
your fish at the boat ramp.
Alan and I launched the boat,
loading the fuel, bags, bucket and rods.
We hadn’t caught our Cherabin yet, so had Barra lures already on our
rods. Somehow Alan’s lure got
caught up in my shirt and hooked me through to my bra.
The harder we tried, the more hooks got caught and I ended up having to
take my shirt off so he could untangle me.
.
The Barra lures were a failure, so it was necessary to
catch some Cherabin. We plonked our
net in the water with “My Dog” for bait, and the next morning we’d caught 2
Cherabin, one for each of us.
My Dog - 3225
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Alan lost his on a snag and we gave up when it got too hot
to stay out, so we motored back up river to our caravan and some shade.
Next day there was no Cherabin in our
trap, so we tried with lures, but didn’t catch anything.
4 days later and out of the 10 or so fishermen, only 1 fish was caught 20
kms down the river and it wasn’t by us.
So instead of fishing we went out instead to count crocs and take photos.
We watched a guy motoring towards his nets and noticed a crocodile a
metre away from his nets beside the bank.
While he was trying to retrieve the nets the croc was dragging it away
from him at the same time.
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We loved our stay at the Mango Farm and enjoyed afternoon
drinks by the river. The managers,
Lee and husband Lindsay come up to work during the tourist season, then travel
in their caravan the rest of the year.
Lindsay was in a bad way, with Asbestosis and Parkinson’s disease.
The Asbestosis was the result of working for an electricity power station
in Victoria, and to hear him coughing was quite distressing.
To make our fishing easier, Alan installed a “fish finder”
in the boat, and while it hasn’t helped us catch any fish, the depth gauge
certainly kept us out of trouble cruising the Daly River which is an obstacle
course of fallen trees and hidden logs.
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The highest marker is the
1994 flood, and 3rd highest 2013.
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We took a detour via the Nauiyu Community and again saw our
tax dollars hard at work supporting the community.
New cars, satellite dishes on every home and very well dressed kids.
It’s a “dry” community, but as you can see from the lists on the wall,
the Daly Waters pub gets quite a few visitors.
.
Yellow = mid strength beer only.
Pink = life bans. Green = temporary
bans.
I suspect it was during the ‘Barra lure shirt incident’
that we left our remote control for the boat loader behind and didn’t even
realise until it was time to take the boat out of the water 4 days later.
As I reversed the car down I spotted it in the fork of a tree.
We don’t know who put it there, but we’d be in quite a pickle without it.
There’s no way to load the boat onto the car without the remote, so we
agree it’s time to invest in a spare.
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Darwin
We’re in Darwin now until Friday when we fly home to see
our kids, family and friends for 3 weeks.
Caravan parks up here are very expensive, and nothing
special, but we found a bargain when I contacted a storage facility very close
to the centre of Darwin who would store our car and van for $8 a day while we
were in Sydney. Graeme also offered
to give us a site to stay at, for the measly amount of $25 a night.
He owns 5 acres, most of which are horse stables and yards, and aside
from storage, there’s enough room for 8 vans to spread out on the grass.
We’re camped right at the fence line of the stables where we look
directly at the horses and can hear them nickering at night and enjoy the lovely
horsey smells.
Unfortunately Darwin usually has a midge problem (very
nasty aggressive invisible biting insects) and our suburb Leanyer has as many as
anywhere else.
We were devoured getting our bikes out for a ride, and are
both itching like crazy. Here’s a
photo of Alan trying to increase his midge count while doing a wheel alignment
(again) and trying to detect a persistent squeak in the van.
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