Katherine Gorge

For those of you who didn’t pay enough attention to their French teachers, my wife has just summed up our wonderful experience in Australia’s largest national park, Kakadu. Here, we went on a sunrise river cruise and saw dangerous crocodiles; we went on marvellous walks by towering waterfalls and crystal clear plunge pools and we re-enacted the battle of Rourke’s Drift of the Anglo Zulu war against mosquitoes... and lost. It was a crushing defeat and Ju came off the worst with at least a hundred bites on each leg. No joke. Oh, Ju also writes about Aboriginal rock art thousands of years old. Apparently this fascinated other tourists and my wife, but personally, I found it a little comme-ci comme-ca. Who says I’m jaded.

After Kakadu national park, we decided to nurse our wounds by canoeing up Katherine Gorge. Katherine Gorge is an impressive sight. The jade coloured river lethargically meanders its way down to the coast while it is flanked on both sides by massive walls of solid ochre tinted sandstone. By midday, the sunrays only just manage to reach the water, reflecting the ripples of the current back onto the gorge walls. A light breeze hugs each turn and bend, cooling those on the water.




We rented the canoe for the day and made our lazy way up river. To rest, we grounded up onto an occasional sandbank and ate ANZAC biscuits (superb coconut and oat biscuits which womenfolk sent to Australian soldiers in Galipoli during WW1... but by the time they arrived, they were so hard that the soldiers preferred to use them as firewood).

We made good progress and my wife’s paddling technique as a former rower ensured we made it all the way to Lilly pad Waterfall. To get here we needed to abandon our canoe and walk inland. After a brief hike, we came to a truly breathtaking sight: a waterfall one hundred meters high where the water freefalls from top to bottom into a magnificent plunge pool. The water was refreshing and sweet tasting and we had it to ourselves.

Our way back was even more pleasant as we were with the current and we let it carry us for most of the way. In total, we canoed for 15 kilometres and the cold strawberry flavoured milk afterwards was particularly welcome.

Our final stop before we hit the road was Bitter Springs. Bitter Springs is a stretch of river that is warmed up by thermal activity (whatever that means) and the water is a pleasant 34 degrees. The current is too strong to swim against and you have to float downstream before climbing out a few hundred meters later. We donned our facemasks and had a magnificent time swimming down the narrow channel and its crystal clear waters. It was, however, a little disconcerting to see the cracks in the river bed with hundreds of little bubbles streaming out.

A little scavanging visitor