Author Archives: Steve Walker

About Steve Walker

Once a tech in-house PR type, now professional photo/videographer and recreational drone pilot. Violinist. Flautist. Occasional conductor. Oenophile.

A Day in Litchfield National Park

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Friday 23 August 2024 – Our stay in Darwin was really more of a staging post between the Kimberley cruise and the next segment of our Australia trip, more of which later. However, we had a whole day here, and it was to be filled with an excursion to Litchfield National Park, about 100km south of Darwin. The tour was included in our formal itinerary, but entry tickets to the park were not. These are only available online, so we stumped up the AU$10 each before we set out. At no stage were we asked for evidence that we’d paid our dues, by the way. I don’t know how, or even if, it’s policed in any way.

Anyway, the itinerary included some interesting-looking items, such as seeing termite mounds, rivers and waterfalls, and some of less, OK no, interest – going for a dip by the rivers and waterfalls. It was billed as a “small group” tour, and turned out to be 17 people on a small bus

on a tour led by Emily.

The park was about a 90-minute drive, which included a coffee-and-loo stop

and travel through a countryside which showed some evidence of burning.

Much of the burning was intentional, programmatic and necessary, though there was some evidence of an incidental bush fire – nothing major, though, just some smoking undergrowth.

The indigenous people have developed a detailed understanding of the “right way” to go about burning the bush. Although not nomadic, they would move between seasonal locations, gathering food according to the location, weather and climate. Having harvested, they would burn the area before moving on; so when they returned later on, there was fresh growth breaking through to be harvested again. The controlled burning also removed much of the flammable detritus in the undergrowth so that lightning strike-induced fires were less likely to burn out of control.

On the topic of the indigenous peoples, one of the learnings for me of this trip is of the highly variegated nature of the indigenous cultural geography. Emily told us about the various indigenous peoples whose land we were travelling through, mentioning that the Australian land mass was actually split into some 250 countries, each with its own indigenous people. There’s a very good interactive map, which gives more details, but here’s the overview.

After a while, Emily swung off the road and parked up for our view of the two sorts of termite mounds on display. Termites split broadly into two types – wood-eating and grass-eating – and the first evidence we saw was of the work of grass-eating termites, and plenty of them, too.

If you view from an angle, you can see that each mound is actually a blade-like construction

and each blade is aligned north-south along Earth’s magnetic field. Hence, the termites are called Magnetic Termites. In mounds built this way the termites receive the warmth of the sun on their eastern and western sides in the morning and evening while exposing less surface to the sun at midday when the nest might overheat.

Each mound belongs to a single queen, who pumps out eggs for several years; while she does this, worker termites are maintaining and growing each mound, the building work being visible as spikes of new material at the top.

When the queen dies, then that’s the end of the colony in that mound; vacated mounds can be distinguished by their lack of spikes.

Eventually, the mounds simply collapse and all the nutrients in their construction are returned to the earth. What causes the collapse? Mainly rain. In the wet season, the fields which look so dry in the photos above can be covered in water, and it’s this which undermines the decaying mounds.

As well as the Magnetic Termite mounds, there were some of the more conventional style of mound, called cathedral mounds. We had seen plenty of these as we drove along, but there were a couple of monsters at the site where we’d stopped.

Here’s the same thing, with people for scale.

Following the termite mound viewings were visits to three water features. The first was the Florence Falls

which can be seen from a convenient viewpoint, and then visited by going down some 135 steps

and past the odd occasional sylvan scene.

I had formed a sort of half-hope that I might be able to take a photo of the falls without too many people in it, but it was clear, as we arrived, that this would be unlikely.

Sure, I could take a photo of the falls

but the wider picture was all full of people.

It seems that Australians are incapable of passing by a scene like this without throwing themselves in, something which requires too much faffing about to be of any interest to me. But it was a hot day, and I suppose it’s a way of cooling off.

In the trees surrounding the falls there were flying foxes – fruit bats.

And Jane captured a photo which demonstrates very clearly why Pandanus is sometimes called “screw pine”.

The second water feature, Buley Rockholes, was less dramatic

but equally crowded.

The third, Wangi Falls, was probably the most photogenic.

The other entertainment for the day was a “crocodile cruise”, on the Adelaide River. Having seen some crocodiles as we cruised the Kimberley, I guess I was expecting a quiet half-hour pottering up and down the river spotting crocodiles. On the other hand, as we approached our cruise, there were signs for “Jumping Croc Tours” and similar, so I began to wonder if we would see something a bit more dynamic. I half-remember a crocodile cruise in the USA, about 30 years ago, where we were treated to the sight of a largish croc called Elvis leaping out of the water to catch bait dangled for him.

Our cruise leader was a chap called Rex

who ran a small and slightly ramshackle operation, but who was friendly, quite well-organised and knowledgeable. He spent a reasonable amount of time explaining that we were dealing with saltwater crocodiles (“salties”), which are large, voracious and very, very dangerous – so no limbs or extremities outside the boat, or even camera lenses, as these could be the target of an attack. He pointed out that crocodiles, like sharks, have been unchanged by evolution over millions of years – in other words they are as good at their job as they could be, and that job involves stealth, aggression and voraciousness. We noted that Rex was wearing a gun.

After the preliminaries, we went off on to his boat –

– the smallest on the river, apparently, but still well-guarded with bars and solid steel mesh, only slightly bent, he told us, in encounters with salties – and set off, with Rex telling us about the life of crocodiles on the Adelaide River.

Salties are very different from fresh water crocodiles (called, logically enough, “freshies”) – larger, much more aggressive and highly territorial. We started off in the territorial waters of a large male called Sneaky. Whilst we waited for him, there was the opportunity of capturing a couple of shots of local bird life.

It seemed the parrots weren’t too afraid of the hawk, though.

Rex attracted Sneaky to the boat using chunks of chicken dangled off a pole. A long pole. When he turned up, it was quite disconcerting to see how big he was and how evil he looked.

He was called Sneaky for a reason – he actually managed to snaffle the first piece of chicken whilst it was still underwater, but eventually Rex was able to get him to jump and take the bait. It was so swift and dramatic, that it was impossible adequately to capture by photo or video – for one chicken nugget he jumped so high that his head was higher than the roof of the boat; then he crashed against the side of the boat as he went down, which was really rather alarming.

Rex wasn’t just doing circus tricks; our time with him was quite educational as well as being disconcertingly dramatic. He introduced us to a female called Flicker, whom he also inveigled into taking bait, but he explained that she had to be cautious because Sneaky, the alpha male of the stretch of water, was still around.

We moved up the river into another male’s territory. This one was called Gnasher. He’s a big bastard.

We also had a visit from a whole herd of Whistling Kites.

On the way back to his dock, Rex explained to us the import of territoriality. Any stretch will have an alpha male; alpha status is settled by fighting, if necessary to the death, and imposes a kind of order to the crocodile community. So when it was decided that there were too many crocodiles (for which, read: too many people killed in accidents) and it was decided to cull some of the alpha males, the result was actually carnage. Instead of making the river safer, it resulted in a whole series of fights as the remaining crocodiles established the new chomping order. It’s now reasonably accepted that culling is not a good idea, and the crocs are allowed to get on with life in their own way.

The crocs we saw today were much larger and more frightening than any others I had come across, and my respect for them has only increased. It was an entertaining and educational hour or so we spent with Rex.

After that was just the journey back to the hotel and preparation for the morrow when, as I say, we embark on the next segment of our Australian trip. We will travel from Darwin to Adelaide; exactly how we go about this is something you’ll have to come back and read about another day.

Off the ship and into Darwin

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Thursday 22 August – Yesterday was a day spent at sea making the transit from the Kimberley to Darwin. The day was therefore spent mainly doing end-of-cruise admin – repacking the suitcases, paying the bills, that kind of thing. There was one important event to attend, though. Although we’d avoided most of the “social” activities on board the ship, the guides had organised a photo competition, which, of course, is catnip to me. There were four categories in which to submit entries – Landscape, Wildlife, Social and “Wild card” (i.e. anything at al). Unsurprisingly, I had no candidates for the social category, but I did submit entries for the other three. And, ahem…

(and another photo was a runner up, too, in the wild card category). One lady won two of the categories with a couple of cracking photos, but sadly couldn’t be there to celebrate her success, as she had Covid and was confined to her cabin.

By about 6pm we could see Darwin in the distance, albeit not very clearly. The lack of clarity in the view was almost certainly down to what we think must be a bush fire somewhere in the area.

The smoke gave some nice atmosphere to photos as we approached,

and then we had arrived.

It would have been possible to leave the ship for a wander around, but we expected to do that after we finally disembarked, so we concentrated on having a few final free cocktails….

As is normal with these things, next morning we were flung off the ship in very short order; out of our cabins by 8am and off the boat by 9.

We were staying in the Vibe Waterfront hotel, as were several other passengers, so APT had laid on a coach to take us there from the port – a lengthy drive covering a total distance of about 500m. On the way, though, the driver gave us a couple of useful tips about places to visit and to eat.

It being not long after 9am at this point, our hotel room wasn’t ready for us, of course. So we went for a walk. Obviously.

Darwin’s not a big place, but it has some interesting things to see, which Jane, in her usual organised fashion, had scoped out for us. The hotel itself is in the Waterfront area, a redevelopment, i.e. gentrification. It has its own small but perfectly-formed beach,

which fronts a water park

in an area which seems pretty nice for a leisurely swim., protected from those nasty ocean waves

(though we discovered later that they can turn them on for you if you want).

At the end of the wharf which protects the waterfront area is a uniquely Australian exhibition.

which, although it doesn’t say it on the door, is also dedicated to something that unsurprisingly figures high in the local consciousness:

the wartime bombing of Darwin (February 1942).

We went in to take a general wander round and were immediately bossed about in a very organised way by a lady who was clearly part of The Management; she told us about a simulation of the attack which happened every 20 minutes, as air raid sirens went off, and an immersive screen showed a visualisation of what it might have looked like.

We were then ushered into a small film theatre for two “holograms”: one told the story of the genesis of the Flying Doctor Service, including how it became Royal; the other was the story of an American general on the scene of the bombing – both done really quite well, and very interesting.

The bombing of Darwin on 19 February 1942 was the largest single attack ever mounted by a foreign power on Australia. On that day, 242 Japanese aircraft, in two separate raids, attacked the town, ships in Darwin Harbour, and the town’s two airfields in an attempt to prevent the Allies from using them as bases to contest the invasion of Timor and Java during World War II. Darwin was lightly defended relative to the size of the attack, and the Japanese inflicted heavy losses upon Allied forces at little cost to themselves. No wonder it’s something that still looms large in the folk memory here – although relations with Japan nowadays are cordial.

The centre also has a real Flying Doctor aeroplane there.

There was a VR setup which gave one the chance to see the Flying Doctor service from the point of view of both patient and pilot.

The hologram film gave an excellent overview of the development of the RFDS, starting from its inspiration: the case of someone who had to travel hundreds of kilometres and wait six days for treatment after a major farming accident. This inspired the Reverend John Flynn to look for ways to solve the problem of communicating and delivering medical care across the remoteness of the Australian interior. The combination of nascent aviation capabilities and a pedal-driven radio proved to be a successful one, allowing the service in time to grow to its current roles: nationwide, the service has over 80 aircraft and includes flying dentistry and flying mental health services alongside emergency and primary medical care.

The Flying Doctor Service was allowed to add “Royal” to its name after HM Elizabeth II visited in 1954; she talked to people over the pedal-driven radio, though I bet someone else did the pedalling.

All in all, it was a very worthwhile and interesting hour spent at the centre.

We went back to the hotel, but our room still wasn’t ready. So, after a coffee, we went for another walk. Obviously.

Downtown Darwin is on a plateau somewhat higher than the Waterfront, and is reached via a lift (well, you can use the steps if you want, but the temperature was around 30°C, so sod that for a game of soldiers). We passed some handsome buildings, such as Government House,

the oldest colonial building in Darwin, and the Northern Territory Library, which is a very imposing building.

Outside the library, a group of Masked Lapwings were having a barney

and we saw an Orange-Footed Scrubfowl, scrubbing about very orange-footedly.

We then headed for Austin Street, which is noted for its street art. It is indeed very varied and colourful.

By this stage, the temperature was well into the 30s, and so we headed back towards the hotel. We passed the site of the Darwin Festival, an 18-day event which is due to continue until 25 August,

and the Anglican Cathedral, which is definitely an Interesting Church

albeit a closed one; it was possible to see inside through the front door, though.

Some White Ibis (“Bin Chickens”) were squabbling outside.

Our route back to the hotel also took us near another Darwin unique, the WWII Oil Tunnels. These were tunnels built as underground oil storage tanks, in the aftermath of 1942 Japanese bombing of the above-ground ones that were already there. The enterprise was a massive engineering undertaking, with many problems and false steps along the way; and it wasn’t a massive success. 11 tunnels were envisaged, and six were completed by the end of the war, and so weren’t needed by that stage, although tunnels 5 & 6 were used for storage of aviation fuel during a confrontation with Indonesia in the 1950s.

Tunnels 5 and 6 are now open to the public. For a fee, of course.

It looks like a tunnel, but actually this is the interior of one of the tanks

This engaging sculpture can be seen at the junction of a couple of the tunnels.

Even after all this peregrination, our hotel room was still not ready, but we sat in the blessed cool of reception for a few minutes and then were at last admitted. Actually, the room is pretty good – plenty of USB charging points, plus a kettle, Earl Grey and milk in the fridge. And face flannels in the bathroom, something that seems to be standard over here, whereas it’s disappointingly lacking in most other countries we’ve visited. Including the UK, I might add.

We had a really very good late lunch/early dinner at a bus-driver-recommended restaurant, Snapper Rocks, just along the way from the hotel and retired to our room to rest and prepare ourselves for the morrow. We are due on an all-day outing to visit Litchfield National Park, which on the face of it offers many diversions, termite mounds, waterfalls and crocodiles among them, so it would seem an interesting day awaits. Let’s see how it turns out.

Kimberley Day 8 – King George River

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Tuesday 20 August 2024 – Our final expedition, and also the longest – 2½ hours in a Zodiac.

It’s about 14km from the ship (X marks the spot) to the ultimate destination of the cruise – the King George Falls, which, in full spate, are reportedly magnificent. Dain had, though, set our expectations much lower. Since we’re well through the dry season, the water levels upriver of the falls were, unsurprisingly, low, so we weren’t going to see a massive cataract. Nonetheless, I wondered whether an aerial shot would be possible, even of a low flow, so I asked him whether it might be possible to whizz up the drone for a shot. As soon as he heard the word “drone”, he simply said, “no”, and offered some kind of weaselly reason like migratory birds. I was expecting the answer no, so it wasn’t a surprise; and launching a drone from a Zodiac might have proved interesting anyway. But I’d have appreciated a more considered and les brusque response, frankly.

Anyhoo…

The ship ran a morning cruise for two groups and an afternoon one for the other two; and our group were last out, just after 2pm. The first thing one has to do is to get from the ship to the mouth of the river, seen here between two sand spits, since we were just after low tide.

If you look carefully, you can just make out a Zodiac ahead of us as it enters the river proper.

When you enter the river, the scenery is pretty striking, with impressive cliffs on each side.

As ever, the dark patches are cyanobacteria. More on them later.

There’s a lot of geology going on, here. For example, we passed a formation that showed we’d crossed a fault line, these arise where the Australian tectonic plate cracks under pressure from the neighbouring plates.

Left Bank

Right Bank

There were some amazing lumps of geology just lying around,

and one, nicknamed the “guillotine stone”, is very intriguing,

But it’s actually when you get up close that you get some even more fantastic sights. For example, our driver, Xander, spotted some very pale stone at the foot of a cliff

and took us over for a closer look

at what turns out to be very recently-exposed Wharton Sandstone. This – you remember, don’t you? I did tell you. Yes, I did – is the middle of the five layers of stone that make up the Kimberley, and is easily weathered; so what we were seeing had been uncovered by recent rock falls. These rock falls are catalysed by salt, which is present in the mists above the water; the salt water seeps into cracks in the rocks and evaporates forming salt crystals. The heat of the sun then causes the crystals to expand, putting pressure on the rock and over time this causes the rock to disintegrate. The honeycomb structures left by this salt weathering are called tafoni.

Further along the river we came across some much more weathered Wharton Sandstone, and the colours were extraordinary, as were the honeycomb patterns of the salt-provoked erosion.

Nature and coincidence between them also provided

a map of Africa! [ I don’t see Madagascar though – Ed ]

We did see some wildlife along the way. There was an Osprey’s nest

though the bird on it is not an Osprey. We’re pretty sure it’s a Peregrine Falcon.

There was a croc, a big bastard.

And there was a snake.

Xander (to whom congratulations are due for spotting the thing) swore it was some kind of Death Adder, one of the most venomous snakes in Australia (a high bar indeed). We’re not so sure. Jane reckons it’s a Brown Tree Snake, which is not hugely venomous; our evidence is in the eyes, which show the “cat’s eye” vertical pupil. Apparently, the snake is also called a “cat snake” as a result.

There was a dolphin as well, and it apparently did some fairly serious cavorting, but not while I was watching, of course. A sea eagle flew across at one point as well, but I was busy trying to capture photos of something else. Ho, hum.

By this stage we were approaching our destination – the King George Falls. From a distance, it was a bit difficult to work out what was falls and what was just rock.

There are two falls, left and right, either side of the lumpy bit in the middle. We visited the right-hand one first.

The water flow was so reduced that it was more like condensation running down a wall than an actual flow of water.

but it did show up the rehydrated and therefore blue-green cyanobacteria at its base in very fine fashion.

Then we went to visit the other, left-hand fall.

The flow in this one was more generous – enough that, close up, one got wet from splattered water.

For the record, the falls can look magnificent when there’s enough water coming down the river, i.e. much earlier in the dry season than our visit – but of course then you can’t even get close.

image credit: donsmaps.com

Margie, the Cruise Director from APT, had laid on another surprise party for us at the Falls.

It was a nice thought, but actually dealing with glasses in a moving Zodiac whilst trying to take photos was a bit challenging. However, we manfully forced a glass of fizz down before heading back to the ship.

Although we had a full day left at sea before reaching Darwin, tonight featured a Gala Dinner, after the usual end-of-cruise ritual of introducing all of the crew to the passengers. There were in the order of 160 of us punters, and we were very well served by the 127 crew – hotel, catering, guiding, engineering and steering. Le Lapérouse is a comfortable ship, whose facilities are very well-organised and which has been extremely well run. The social content surrounding the expeditions might not be to our taste, but it seemed to go down well with the other passengers, so APT have hit their niche pretty well with this cruise.

Overnight, we transit from Western Australia to the Northern Territory. This involves moving our clocks forward, as one would expect. What I didn’t expect was that the time change was 1½ hours. We have a day at sea tomorrow, and should reach Darwin around 8pm, with the possibility that we could take a stroll round the town if we feel so inclined. Since we have a day or two there anyway, we may or may not take up on that. Come back soon to find out.