A walk by any other name...

We have a new route for our afternoon walks.

There is a suite of walking routes which we take depending on our mood and how much time we have. Sometimes we do a stroll around the backstreets of Ludmilla. On other days we cut through the block of low lying mangroves to reach an empty field and bushland in the back of Parap. Other days we drive to Casuarina and walk for miles along the deserted beach.

The new walk takes in both beach and bushland. We start at the carpark at Casuarina Beach ( near the nudist part ) and walk along a criss-crossing trail of paths through coastal reserve towards a place called Sandy Creek. It is a 6km walk one way and then we cross over to the beach, pull off our sandshoes, throw them over our shoulders, and return via the shoreline. Arthur loves it as he gets to run free off the leash, and the bush is a magical playground for a hairy pup who loves sniffing the many woody, leafy scents.

The other day when we were walking, he ran up to me carrying the bony remains of a possum, complete with wiry tail, as if to say; Look what I found!

I enjoy it so much that I channelled Anne of Green Gables, and felt an urge to call the walk a wonderfully descriptive and vivid name like 'Where the Pinetrees meet the Seasalt Amble' or 'Fragrant Bushland and Barefooted Beach Way'. But funnily enough we call it the 'Surf and Turf' walk. Not quite as romantic but it seems to roll more readily off the tongue.

A hot foray into Katherine and surrounds

A weekend away. Saturday we drove to Katherine for my first time visit. We packed the esky, Arthur jumped in the back, we had a stash of CDs,and we were off. Needing some time away, time to get some perspective on life and what better than to do some exploring! The plan was to leave Arthur with our landlords who lived in Katherine while we headed to the Gorge for a boat ride. It was hot. To avoid sun damage, I was garbed in jeans, cons, long sleeved top, scarf and wide-brimmed hat. A number of people (mainly older ladies) asked me concernedly if I was hot during the day and why was I wearing a jumper in this heat? Least I wasn't getting burnt...! The Gorge was lovely, and quite breathtaking. I ached to peel off my clothes and dive into the clear waters.

After collecting Arthur we headed off to our abode for the evening, at Mataranka. We were staying at some cabins 500m from the Bitter Springs. The cabins were great, surrounded by tall termite mounds and large sprinklers chick-chick-chicking around the grounds. We retreated to the A/C; whipped up a plate of cheese, dolmades and tasty treats; and indulged in a splash of vino. I awoke in the middle of the night to hear wallabies nibbling the grass outside our cabin. The next morning we swam in the cobalt blue springs and sweated it out discovering Katherine.
We sat in the park in Katherine to eat lunch and ring Dads for Father's Day. I told Dad it was hot, around 32 degrees. Later that evening I saw on the ABC news that it was a gigantic 37 degrees in Katherine that weekend. No wonder I was sweltering in my layers of clothing...!

A lovely quote sent to me by my friend Jen as she embarks upon a whirlwind worldwide trip to delicious places....

Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness, and its power of endurance - the cheerful man will do more in the same time, will do it; better, will preserve it longer, than the sad or sullen ~ Thomas Carlyle

Oh

Oh how the dry days roll by at a cracking pace! My last post chronicled the signs of the dry, and now, dear reader (s), the dry is almost at its end. The humidity has soared. The tourists are slowly refilling their motorhome petrol tanks litre by litre and buying up big at Coles for the long journey home. I see a light at the end of the outside broadcast/event calendar, signalling quieter days at work and some much-needed planning/recuperating time in the office.

The Darwin Festival is in full swing, so a gig/ art gallery/ dance hall/party is permanently installed in the park across from work. I walk past every afternoon at around 6pm, watching the lights being put up in the trees and the people slowly flooding in to sit at long trestle tables and eat delicious Hanuman curries before the gig.

The last of our long line of visitors left on Monday, returning our haven to the perfect place for three (inc pooch). We revel in this by spending nights at home, making glorious dinners, lighting candles and eating on the deck with Arthur at our feet or on the steps where its cooler. We spend weekends going for bike rides; foostering in the garden; watching the sprinkler, enchanted (you can't do that in Queensland); having long barefoot walks on the beach; reading Wuthering Heights aloud and seeing movies.

Yesterday I was overcome by a tingly wave of affection towards life. So much has been going on in life lately with visitors, work events, festival, love, writing, sewing, living. Holidays are booked in, work is slowing down, the wet season is coming (!) and life is good. I feel like going to a remote beach somewhere and letting off fireworks. I'm going to try and remember this feeling. Its nice to be reminded when things are good and life is wonderful. My adventures are very bright right now.

the signs of the dry

The dry season is near. We are on the cusp of cooler days, infused with the smell of burn offs and months of festivals. The harbingers of the changing of the seasons are everywhere.

Dragonflies orbit. The rain stops. Deckchair Cinema reopens. Mindil Beach market owners set up their stalls. Long-socked grey nomads are spotted hiking the periphery of the city. Work has become outrageously hectic.

Waiting for the bus, I sat across from an man at the bus stop who lives in the community across the road. He told me the 'knock-em-down rains' were still to come. That's when the long dry grass is flattened by heavy rain. It's a season in itself. But the dry is near.

The sunsets remain the same.

one week = one year

The last few weeks have been a blur; a jam-packed week-long holiday in Queensland for Dad's birthday; my boss in town for interviews and Tiwi Islands Grand Final weekend; and .... soon to be moving house!

Oh yes the lady shack has been usurped by a more grown-up abode. I have returned to the land of co-habitation. The house is a typically Top End pad; louvres from the floor to the ceiling, plunge pool, big yard, tropical garden, tranquil locale. As soon as I peered through the fence I envisaged lying in bed in one of the many bedrooms, watching the rain through the louvres on a wet season morning.

Pity they are heralding the dry season's return, oh well. And, best of all, I get to procure my pup ! The yard is large and dog-friendly ie lots of room to run and no way of escape. There is a shed too. I'm sure we'll find things to put in it. I've never had a shed before.

And so to the visit from the boss. We had many-a-social-occasion, having important business lunches and lolling at the Ski Club. He also timed it to be in town for the Tiwi Islands Grand Final at Nguiu on Bathurst Island. The day was long, hot, yet so rewarding and fun. We boarded an early flight on a light aircraft to get over there in time to set up the broadcast, which we did from an old truck which the locals dragged over to the side of the oval for us for the day. We busied ourselves setting up, then spent a few hours looking at local art sales. I bought some amazing Tiwi fabric and a 'goose'; a wooden sculpted magpie goose, intricately painted.

And the kids! They were so enthusiastic and talkative and interested. And super cute.

The trees around the oval had been chopped down, so there was little to no shade for the thousands of southerners to shelter within. At one point during the day, I saw a group of people huddling in a line of shade cast by a large pylon beside the oval. Someone was heard to ask; what are you lining up for?

Despite the heat, the lack of shade and the sandflies; the day was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I came home with chafe, bites and sunburn, but so happy to have had the privilege to see it. It was such a reflection of life in the NT. You really do live life with the volume turned up, life at 200%. The experiences I have had in one week up here have been more meaningful and exciting than one year of living in Brisbane. I am constantly reminded and gladdened by my decision to move here.

An update on my latest junket....

In a bid to become re-inspired, I packed up my new co-owned esky and headed to Kakadu for the weekend to enjoy my surrounds. We drove out past Jabiru to Nourlangie Rock, just as some imposing black clouds descended upon it. Parking the car, we hiked through isolated showers to a sacred place. The sign said that Aboriginal people once sheltered here for thousands of years.

Just as we arrived, a huge storm hit, preceded by swirly wind and heavy heavy rain which lasted for about 20 mins. We were the only ones there, and completely sheltered under this natural rock formation. It was so freakin magical.

The hike took about half an hour, and it rained most of that time, but it was so beautiful. This place is so different during the Wet Season. And there are no tourists.

We headed off to find a spot to eat rice paper rolls and homemade muffins. As we were gobbling our food, we noticed a blue-winged kookaburra, perched on a sign. I was able to get really close to take his photo.

After eating, we saw that there was a 250m walk we could do to a lookout. Thinking it wouldn’t take us long, we scooted off merrily, not bringing camera or water. We carefully jumped over a body of water (with slight concerns of disturbing nesting crocs), climbed a man-made ladder and then started an ascent up 45 degree rockface. It was like a rock kingdom up there, with wattle trees growing from the cracks and as we climbed higher, the view became more and more sublime. It felt like we were explorers, discovering this place for the first time.

There was not a soul to be seen, and it was oh-so-quiet, apart from the birds. We could see a huge billabong at the foot of the escarpment. FULL to the brim with crocs.

We booked a room at a nearby lodge with ‘Territorian’s rates’ and enjoyed the pool and BBQ facilities before turning in for a night of Movie Channel action.

The next morning we cruised the calm waters of Home Billabong and Yellow Waters, watching birdlife and the multitude of flowers which sprout up during the wet. Then bought Billabongs to eat, filled up the car with petrol and headed home, via Fogg Dam.

It felt like a true holiday, in only two days.