Nourlangie Rock & Anbangbang Billabong

After several false starts (or stops, as the case may be), we stopped at an amazing spot for lunch on the way out to our lodge in Kakadu National Park. We had lunch at a little gazebo by the carpark, watching Sugar Ants meander about. After lunch we headed up the hill to Nourlangie Rock.

The texture of the rocks underfoot and all around was incredible. The rock was very coarse, and had inclusions of many smaller pebbles within. There were rock formations balanced upside down, very hard to photograph with any sort of perspective, but easy to gawk at. There were cliffs to our backs, and another set at the top of the hill.

We walked a ways up, then Maya and Catherine and I stopped to survey the surrounding area, while Tim explored above. There were fires everywhere, set by rangers to burn off the underbrush before the start of the dry season. Catherine spotted a Wallaroo (a black wallaby?), but it scampered off before Maya and I could catch a glimpse.


After lazing about and admiring the magnitude of beauty surrounding us, we headed down to the Anbanbang Billabong to have a look.

There was a wallaby by the water when we got down there, and we photographed him and caused him general annoyance until he hopped off to find some privacy. There were birds everywhere, our first sighting of Whistling Ducks, geese, herons, egrets and the like.


After a bit we left, Catherine convinced, sorely and begrudgingly, that she wasn't going to get to see anything get taken and mawed by crocs.

On the way to Kakadu, passing Humpty Doo

I'm in the backseat, drinking again (surprise, surprise), testing out one of Australia's fine canned mixed drinks, a Wild Turkey & Cola. Cars are coming at me from the wrong side of the road, and I keep getting distracted from my perusal of the snorkel on our truck by Tim's insistence on turning on the wipers everytime he means to signal, or indicate, as it's referred to down here. And he's drinking, which serves as one more distraction from my enjoyment of the passing mango trees. Actually, I completely trust his abilities and judgement. It just come soff better if I sound like a scared drunk.
After spending a fine night in beautiful, tropical Darwin, gargling beer by the pool and sipping Moet y Chandon down by the bay ("where the watermelons grow") we are now on our way out to Kakadu National Park, armed with all of our cameras, a case of Melbourne bitter, and Spearhead.
Catherine's practicing her best American accent, all the better to blend in and act the part of the idiot American along with us, rather than injuring her pride by admitting that she's our local hostess, pitifully underpaid, and prone to checking in with the Lonely Planet guide.
As we pass through the beautiful hamlet of Humpty Doo, Tim remarks, testing his knowledge of Australian lingo in his best British accent, "Just a lot of bush here, eh mate?" Catherine cackles and replies, "Scrub - we call it scrub." After which remark ensues a wildly heated debate about the distinctions between bush, scrub, and shrubbery. Monty Python, anyone? Tim concludes with another stab at the Aussie accent, "This is great, dude. I got wallaby insurance - I'm feeling good." Off we go, into the great expanse of scrub, chumscrubbing all the way.