​Sometimes life doesn’t lend itself to the episodic format of this blog. Two such examples: my brief 2-day stint in Melbourne between visiting the Whitsundays and Darwin, and the slow 4 days after returning from Darwin. Both chapters took place against the backdrop of Melbourne in winter, a sharp contrast from the tropical weather in Queensland and the Northern Territory. Here’s a post to fill in these two gaps in the timeline.

Part 1: Back from Whitsundays
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My immune system was worn day in the Whitsundays. The unseasonable Antarctic winds, getting in and out of the water to snorkel, living in close quarters with other travelers, and long days on the water had finally caught up with me. Melbourne’s cold weather didn’t help. I had a runny nose and phlegmy cough, and kept them at bay with copious amounts of orange cinnamon tea. Also, after 4 weeks on the road, being able to cook my own familiar recipes was something I found surprisingly comforting.

​The Lonely Planet Australia guidebook that I had borrowed from the Carlton library had finally run out of loan renewals. I took photos of the pages still relevant for my final weeks, and then slid it through the book return. Symbolically, it was the beginning of the end. I started to spend more time thinking about “bucket list” destinations in Melbourne.

​One such place was Brunetti Classico, the Italian café and dessert institution. I’d passed it dozens of times but hadn't tried it yet. The foyer’s display cases of eclairs, tarts, cakes, biscuits, and chocolates were simply stunning. It took me several passes to absorb the options, many of which had unfamiliar names. Ultimately, I chose a chocolate éclair, a lime tart, and a “fleur cake” with lemon sponge and rhubarb compote. So tasty! The fleur was a big winner.

​​The café itself had an interesting layout. By the Lygon Street entrance, there were outdoor concrete tables and a dedicated gelato window. There was also a second entrance from inside the Lygon Court shopping center, which had more traditional wooden café tables. I sat by the coffee bar, which had two levels of baristas. The baristas in the inner circle hopped from machine to machine making drinks, while the baristas in the outer circle consolidated the orders and handed them over the counter.

​On the café floor, waiters in black aprons promptly picked up empty plates before they were discovered by small birds taking advantage of the open layout. While leaving, I discovered an enormous backroom with even more display cases filled with Italian breads and sandwiches. Brunetti was the real deal!

I had a chance to see Reggie, who had just started a new government job at the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS). Transitioning back into working life had been rough. The cluttered apartment reflected Reggie’s worn-down state. A new addition to the living room, a shopping cart filled with boxes, took up the last remaining floor space. Though as always, we had a good chat about life.
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Attending a Saturday morning Parkrun was another rough re-entry. I hadn’t logged any kilometers since my last session a month earlier. After the workout, Ben and I went out for brunch in Carlton. He had recently bought an old "ute" (utility truck), charming in its antiquity – a manual transmission, hand-crank windows, a lack of power steering, and a steering wheel lockbar to deter theft. It had been owned by a mechanic and was in good shape. Ben was a competent driver, sharing the road with trams and finding parking despite not being able to make a U-turn. I was impressed!

​His brunch recommendation, a spot called Florian on Rathdowne Street, was also on point. I had a delicious riff on eggs benedict with sauteed greens. It might have been my first proper Aussie brunch. Surprising it took so long, given the country’s “brekkie” culture.

Part 2: Back from Darwin
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It was a 4-hour flight from Darwin to Melbourne, and a 30-minute time change. After a groggy 5:30am landing, SkyBus ride, and tram journey, I was back in Carlton and ready for a proper nap in my own bed – sleep schedule be damned. The next 48 hours were a haze of napping, writing blogs, and having meals at strange times. The marmalade jam from Judy was delicious and didn’t last long. I met a new flatmate, a friendly fellow Californian named Justin. We discovered we had some mutual acquaintances back home.

Done with my regional travels in Australia, it was now time to start thinking about my upcoming trip to French Polynesia. I went to Kmart to buy a pair of khaki pants to wear at the wedding. Kmart always seemed to have the most random US themed clothing, like a whole section of Rhode Island t-shirts! Thinking of New England, I also shipped a box of souvenirs to my friends in Boston. The cost of international postage was actually reasonable.
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Back in exploring mode, I headed to the Shrine of Remembrance to check out the military museum. This was the same shrine where I attended the dawn service on Anzac Day (April 25). My second visit happened to coincide with another commemoration: the 80th anniversary of D-Day. When I arrived, a small event was about to begin in front of the shrine. I entered the shrine and climbed to the top to see the ceremony from above, including a procession and band performance. There were also excellent views of the Melbourne skyline.

​The museum had great exhibits on all the major world wars and modern conflicts. I felt like it tied together a lot of the historical nuggets that I’d accumulated from 6 months in Australia – the Gallipoli campaign, the Kokoda track, the bombing of Darwin, etc. There was also a neat exhibit on how military uniforms have influenced popular fashion, like trench coats, bomber jackets, and camouflage. The museum was free to visit, and circling back was worth the effort.

​I also browsed the free exhibits at the ACMI, the Australian Center for the Moving Image. It was a fun and interactive museum, covering film history and modern techniques like editing and storyboarding. It also covered video games, and had working consoles loaded with noteworthy or innovative games. It had a reference to an Australian TV show called Bush Mechanics, one of the first shows in an Aboriginal language. Later in the day, I watched an episode on YouTube. It was quirky comedy about car troubles in the Outback, with some magical realism mixed in.

​During a Woolworth’s grocery run, I bought a quince (fruit) because I had never seen one in a store before. Only later did I realize it couldn’t be eaten raw. To do it justice, I poached it in sugar water and had it for dessert. It tasted like a spiced pear – delicious!

​My final days in Darwin offered new perspectives on the region. They were also some of the most random days of my entire trip, with unexpected activities and characters. The whirlwind was largely orchestrated by my Servas host, Judy, who generously accepted me as a guest for two nights. I also visited the Tiwi Islands for a wonderful window into Aboriginal culture.

​Judy’s place was in a neighborhood that was originally built as housing for government officials who relocated to Darwin. It was the tropical version of the leafy suburbs, with palms and backyard pools, and had largely survived the 1974 cyclone. The typical Darwin house was two stories tall, with the main rooms on the second floor and the garage or laundry below. I initially thought this design was related to flooding, but it’s actually for catching the ocean breeze – similar to the Queenslander style homes in Brisbane. I stayed in a guest room on the lower level, where multiple fans were needed to survive the heat. At least my laundry dried quickly!

When I first arrived, Judy’s son was also there. He lived in a nearby town called Humpty Doo and had a part-time job running fishing charters. Today he had caught a “goldie” (golden snapper) or two, but otherwise the fish weren’t biting. On bountiful days, he might get a portion of the haul to bring home. He headed home to rest, as the fishing schedule was skewed early in the day. On the theme of fishing, the city council runs a lake fishing competition where people who catch one of 100 specially tagged barramundi can win vouchers for local businesses.

Judy had plans to see a movie at the Deckchair Cinema, which was celebrating its 30th anniversary. She had invited me in advance, but I wasn’t sure if my tour would drop me off in time, so I had declined. Tickets were now sold out, but she offered to drop me off at a Nepalese Festival happening by the waterfront. After 5 days of basic road trip meals, some fresh momos sounded pretty good.
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We carpooled with Judy’s friends, originally from the UK, who were also going to the movie. The car had bumper stickers of a Scottish flag and “Albo for PM.” The driver handed a physical copy of a British newspaper to the back seat, and the recipient grumbled over a front page article about Rishi Sunak. We encountered a Darwin-sized traffic jam by the waterfront. Apparently the worst it gets, but mild by the big city standard.

​The Nepalese Festival was in full swing. There was a mainstage with dancing and singing, a model of Mt. Everest, a tent with arts and crafts, and of course, a food courtyard. People were dressed in beautiful traditional clothing, like saris, vests, and Dhaka topi hats. I had a mango lassi and a round of fresh momos, assembled by a cooking crew in realtime. Since I had explored the waterfront on foot when I first arrived in Darwin, I knew there was an elevator to a bridge with views overlooking the whole extravaganza, which was a great place to soak in the scene.

I had several hours to kill, so I found a quiet patch of grass and sorted through Kakadu photos, until the sprinklers turned on and I had to abruptly relocate. As a consolation prize, I found some delicious gelato.
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The fireworks show at the end was worth the wait. The waterfront area was the perfect sized venue, and the dazzling colors were reflected in the manmade lagoon. The unobstructed views were a nice contrast to the tree cover during my last fireworks show, in Sydney’s botanical gardens on NYE.

On the drive back to Judy’s, we traveled along the lively Mitchell Street and passed by the Youth Shack, Crocasaurus Cove, and Shenanigan’s. Seeing the Darwin party scene from inside a car with a bunch of old ladies was a funny contrast from my initial experience staying in the middle of it.

That evening, I finally had a chance to chat with Judy and get to know her better. She came across as practical and strong-willed, possibly from her upbringing on a farm near Adelaide. Her career was in teaching; she had moved to Darwin around 40 years ago for a teaching job. Now in retirement, she stays involved with her local church group, volunteering at its Op Shop, and tutoring immigrants who are learning English. Like many Servas hosts, she had traveled extensively in Asia and Africa, and told stories about church mission trips to Cambodia. She was a generous host, but I could tell she was used to running the show. Many of her anecdotes involved triumphing over other people, whether it was errant schoolkids, police officers who mistakenly pulled her over, or tradies who tried to overcharge her for repairs. I had to admire her grit. The NT isn’t for the faint of heart.
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The next day, my only goal was checking out the MAGNT, a local museum and gallery. Judy didn’t think I would need much time there and offered to take me for a driving tour in the morning. It ended up lasting about 2 hours. I felt that suburban Darwin didn't merit such an extensive tour, but by the time I realized how far we had driven, it was too late. We stopped at her daughter in law's house, where Judy spent 15 minutes trying to fix the irrigation system, further prolonging the outing. We did make two stops that I enjoyed. One was at a local beach that was spacious and relaxed.

​Another was at the Rapid Creek Market, which specialized in Asian produce and food. I picked up a “paw paw” (papaya) salad for lunch, which was made to order with fresh ingredients and a giant mortar and pestle. Judy didn’t care for Asian food, and said she didn’t visit the market often, which made me a bit sad, as it was an excellent market.

​I finally made it to the MAGNT museum, much later than I was hoping. My visit was ultimately cut short by the closing time, but I thoroughly enjoyed browsing its extensive galleries. They spanned modern Australian art, local flora and fauna, Cyclone Tracy, Aboriginal culture, early 1900s settler history, and a huge open-air pavilion of boats and ships. Its best know exhibit was a taxidermy crocodile named Sweetheart, which became Darwin's unofficial ambassador at world conventions.

​The 1900s history was particularly interesting. The Northern Territory was originally part of South Australia, but eventually was handed back to the federal government in order to more rigorously invest in the NT’s development. In the early days, Chinese migrants outnumbered white migrants, but many were expelled when the White Australia policy was implemented nationwide. There was info about the pearling industry, where mother-of-pearl shells were cut into buttons to satisfy the international market before plastic buttons were widespread. I learned that Qantas is actually an acronym – Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services – which helped link Darwin to the rest of the world. ​The shipyard of boats was also neat, ranging from small canoes to large pearling ships and Vietnamese refugee ships.

It was a short walk from the museum to Mindil Beach, where I had a second round at the Sunset Market. I browsed souvenirs, had Chinese food for dinner, and watched the sunset. It was significantly more crowded than the previous week – a sign that peak season was imminent.

​At the market, I purchased a piece of artwork that caught my eye. I learned the artist was the shop owner’s brother! I also bought some gluten free cakes and brought them back to share with Judy, who I knew had a sweet tooth.

​Since Judy worked at an Op Shop (thrift store) she happened to have a collection of Lego that she was sorting through. When I mentioned my passion for Lego, she brought out the tubs and we attempted to piece together a complete set. It was fun hearing her life stories while rummaging through the familiar bricks. She recounted the hardships of farm life, like keeping food cold using a low tech refrigerator called a “Coolgardie Safe.” She had sadly lost a sister to cancer, at a time when the radiation treatments were too strong and caused collateral damage. She had a house in Adelaide, which she rented as an AirBNB while not there visiting her children. At the end of the evening, we decided the Lego sets were fine mixed together. She was planning to donate them to kids in Cambodia.

A day trip to the Tiwi Islands was my final outing. The tour went to Bathurst Island, one of the two large islands in the group. The other, which is less populated, is Melville Island – Australia’s 2nd largest island, between Tasmania and Kangaroo Island.
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It was a 2+ hour SeaLink ferry ride from Darwin, across the Beagle Gulf, and to the town of Wurrumiyanga on Bathurst Island. The sea was calm, and I sat outdoors on the second story to enjoy the breeze. A little light conversation with a lady from Melbourne and some Americans from Colorado helped pass the time.

When we arrived on the island, we were sorted into groups based on the version of the tour that we booked. Mine had a focus on Tiwi screen printing, though it had a lot of overlap with the regular itinerary.
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Our guide was a cheerful and charismatic local whose name was Vivian, but went by the nickname Baffi. He was dressed in a turquoise tank top with a rainbow sash, and was both playful and informative.

​We started with a traditional smoking ceremony. A group of 7 or 8 Tiwi men and women introduced themselves one-by-one, and our tour group did the same, including where we were from. I was the only non-Australian out of the dozen or so. Overall, the other guests were extremely inquisitive, both about Tiwi culture and about my own story. The tour was expensive (almost $300 USD) and had clearly filtered out everyone except the most die-hard cultural travelers.

The smoking ceremony is an important Aboriginal ritual performed many places in the country, and it was special to participate in one. Our hosts filled the fire pit with leaves and started the blaze with a lighter. Then, we all walked around the fire pit in a circle, absorbing the smoke as a symbolic cleansing, moving to the beat of wooden clapsticks. We took our seats, and the locals performed short dances that imitated the movements of different animals, like sharks, crocodiles, or brumbies (wild horses). Baffi explained that the real dances were significantly longer – this was just the TikTok version! I had a brief chat with one of the Tiwi men who had visited California and enjoyed it. By coincidence, this was the first Monday tour of the year, and the locals seemed especially energetic. I imagine by the end of the season, the ceremony would be a little more perfunctory. Lucky us!

​A light snack of coffee and damper bread with jam was served. Then Baffi led us on a walking tour through the town. He explained some of the traditional artifacts, like pukumani (burial poles) and tunga (bark baskets). Many of the art galleries in the big cities like Sydney and Canberra had pukumani on display; here I was in their place of origin! Baffi also explained the Kurlama yam ceremony, a 3-day event where the first yams of the season are ritually cooked. He told us some of the creation stories, like Murtankala forming the land and Purukuparli mourning his son, the origin of the pukumani funeral rituals. He also mentioned that Tiwi people avoid looking at comets and rainbows.

​On the walking tour, we made a quick visit to a museum that explained some other noteworthy Tiwi chapters. After the bombing of Darwin, a Japanese fighter pilot crash landed on Melville Island. The pilot was captured by a Tiwi man and turned over to the Australian military. Another room celebrated the Tiwi islanders' enthusiasm for Australian rules football. Despite being a small community of around 2,000 people, they have enough players for 8 club footy teams! Even the 90-year-old Catholic nun was driving around in a Sydney Swans electric wheelchair.

​The next stop on the tour was an old Catholic Church, built in 1941. The altar was decorated with beautiful Tiwi designs, though these were a more recent addition. The checkered history of the missionaries in the Tiwi Islands wasn’t directly addressed in the tour, but I gathered that some of the island’s churches hosted (and abused) the forcibly sent children of the Stolen Generation. At the same time, the missionaries introduced some of the textile printing techniques that helped turn the Tiwi Islands into an art destination. It’s hard to untangle these positive and negative influences.

The lunch that was included was surprisingly tasty and generous with portions. I chatted with some gregarious Aussies, who told stories about visiting Native American reservations in the US. Then it was time for the hands-on portion of the tour – a screen-printing workshop!
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We donned aprons, looked over the potential patterns, and brainstormed color schemes. We had a choice of making a tea towel or a t-shirt. The master artist, a fellow named Allan, showed us the technique for scraping the paint across the screen. I was indecisive about which pattern to use, and initially wanted to use the same pattern as another lady. The tour didn’t have enough time to clean and re-use the screens, so Allan found me a similar one in the back. Turns out he designed the pattern himself!

​The mixing of the paint was all done by Allan. I suggested three colors, but he did the hard work of blending them into a gradient and adjusting the balance by adding extra white paint. Then, with his guidance, I used the squeegee to apply the paint to the cloth. I was thrilled with the result.

The tour didn’t provide much information about the history of printing on the Tiwi Islands, but I did ask Baffi about how the patterns were made. The originals were hand carved, then transferred to the screen using lithography in a darkroom. Baffi pulled out an enormous screen the size of a front door, which was marvelous compared to the tiny rectangular screens for our tea towels.

Unfortunately, we were tight on time. After letting the prints dry in the sun as long as possible, Baffi ironed and packaged them up, and sent us to the ferry. I didn't even have time to look at the art shop.

​The ferry ride back to the mainland was also calm. I talked to a guy from Colorado again, learning the backstory behind their unusual itinerary which focused on Darwin and Canberra. They were from the US Air Force’s computer controls division and had received approval for a perspective-widening trip. While in Australia, they wanted to learn about First Nations culture and visit war monuments. The fellow I was talking with was the officer who organized the trip, and the others were his cadets. He was friendly and seemed to be appreciating the travel on a deep level. Once back home, he was going to be leaving active service and transitioning into university research. I couldn’t help but think: this is what our US military budget is paying for?

After 2 hours in the sun, I was feeling a bit roasted. As a nice gesture, the boat staff handed out freezer pops for everyone. I knew them as Otter Pops, but I think they’re called Zooper Doopers in Australia. One of the military cadets was nice and collected the empty pouches. At the ferry terminal, I noticed a funny looking bird called a masked lapwing, with triangular yellow wattles by its mouth.

I had a late flight, close to 1:00am. Since Judy was a night owl, she stayed up and drove me to the airport. She even sent me off with a jar of homemade lemon marmalade, from her tree in Adelaide. It was one of many examples of her hospitality, and another reason to be thankful! I got on the plane and braced for a return to the cold in Melbourne.

As you can see, Darwin was an eclectic blend of cultures and ways of life. From fireworks at a Nepalese festival, to a Tiwi Islander smoking ceremony, to sorting op shop Lego with Judy, each day was dynamic and kept me guessing. If novelty is the core of travel, then Darwin passed with flying colors.

Day 1 of Kakadu had been fast-paced and loaded with highlights. The remaining 4 days of the Top End tour progressed at a more relaxed pace. Which is not to say they were short on adventure! We continued another day in Kakadu National Park, attempted Cahill’s Crossing a second time, drove south to Nitmiluk National Park to see Katherine Gorge, and finished in Litchfield National Park. Embedded in each day were abundant chances to swim, either in campsite pools or scenic rockholes with waterfalls.​​

​Breakfast at the campsite in Jabiru was a humble selection of cereal and toast. The kids, being good Aussie citizens, adamantly made sure there was Vegemite available. A popular conversation topic was dealing with last night’s uncomfortable heat. We pieced together some tents had fans, while others did not. I realized I had a fan but forgot to turn mine on. Oops. We stayed at the campsite for a second night, and the mistake was not repeated.

In the morning, we went on a nature walk to another rock art site. Along the way, Rick showed off his knowledge of the local flora and fauna. He pointed out milk sap plants, which applied to the skin, can be used as transparent bandages. Spiral pandanus trees have poison fruit and serrated edges, but their leaves are great for weaving. Turkey bush, a plant with purple flowers, can be burned as a natural mosquito repellent. Sandpaper bark trees have rough leaves for sanding. The kapop tree (no relation to Korean pop music!) produces cotton that can be used to stuff pillows.

​The most exciting bit of “bush tucker” (wild food) were the green ants. These ants build their tree nests by fusing leaves together, forming a hollow container. One had to simply knock at the front door, and they would come swarming out. Also know as lime ants, they have a large green abdomen with a citrus flavor. Consuming the ants wasn’t necessary; Rick encouraged us to lick them and put them back unharmed. The group approached then green ants with varying levels of enthusiasm! They were acidic but great.

​The rock art at Nanguluwurr was impressive. Like Ubirr, there were a few different styles, including x-ray animals, evil spirits, and "contact art" – for example, a European ship. The evil spirits were a little frightening, with long thin bodies and curved fingers. We were careful not to awaken their wrath.

​On the return walk, Rick encountered a fellow guide named Johnny Reid, who was hyped up as a local legend. They compared notes about park openings and closures, a jolly round of shop talk.

Later in the morning, we did a second and a third walk. The second was to a lookout point called Nawurlandja with a view of the valley and neighboring escarpment. The rock was a sharp conglomerate. Rick identified the bird call of the channel-billed cuckoo without even seeing it, further adding to his naturalist mystique.

​The third walk was along the edge of the Anbangbang Billabong, recently opened as the water level had receded. This billabong was the filming location for the crocodile attack scene in Crocodile Dundee. Rick dropped us off at the start and drove ahead with the van so we could hike it one-way. He warned us not to approach the ponds to avoid the “snapping handbags,” as he liked to call them. There were lots of wetland birds, including little ducklings camouflaged between the reeds, and small but gangly comb-crested jacamas. Someone thought they saw a croc in the distance. We had two pairs of binoculars among us. They were exchanged as everyone tried to determine whether it was a genuine crocodile, or a “log-odile.”

​On the way back to the campsite, we saw a trio of dancing brolgas – though no dances were on at the time! The brolgas are cranes, not to be confused with the jabirus which are storks. Rick speculated they were two parents with their juvenile, who hadn’t yet left the metaphorical nest.

After lunch and a little swimming at the campsite pool, we headed to the Bowali Visitor Center for some educational exhibits. From there, we got the green light to re-attempt Cahill’s Crossing. After the previous day’s disappointment, Rick had tempered our expectations. Though the fact he was willing to drive from Jabiru to the East Alligator River meant he was secretly confident.
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The water level was down to 0.6m, still a bit high, but the currents were much weaker today. We charged into the river, navigating unseen bumps, and looking out the windows into the murky brown water. It was a tense few seconds. When we reached dry land, the whole bus cheered. We had made it to Arnhem Land.

Arnhem Land is a huge region. 97,000 square kilometers – roughly the size of Iceland. It’s governed by the Yolngu people, the traditional owners, and special permits are required for entry. Rick placed magnetic labels on the side of the bus, showing we were affiliated with a local tour company.

I had gotten a preview of Arnhem Land during the scenic flight, and it was just as beautiful from the ground. Bright green grasses, pristine wetlands with jabirus and egrets, and enormous blocks of sandstone that appeared to be stacked by giants. Given the difficulty of the river crossing and lack of vehicles, there was a sense of wonder at simply being there.

We drove to the town of Gunbalanya to pick up a local guide. It was an eclectic scene, ranging from burning fires and dilapidated cars to a modern playground and a state-of-the-art solar panel farm. Many people were walking in bare feet, and many in dark clothing. Kids waved to us as we passed. There were a few cats and dogs roaming the streets, something I was unaccustomed to seeing in Australia. The entrances to the houses were decorated with painted handprints, not unlike the handprint signatures at the rock art sites.

We drove a little ways to a rock art site, where Shawn became our guest guide. He was a local artist that specialized in painting buffalo and crocodile skulls. He was decked out in Essendon Bombers shoes, a matching hat, and a pair of thick headphones. 

Shawn explained that the rock art was an evil spirit called Malawa, posted at the entrance to a cave as a warning against entering alone. He recounted a personal anecdote where he failed to heed a similar warning at another cave, and got lost inside for two days, barely escaping with his life. He mentioned that some of the rock paintings are repainted as they fade, though not all sites are maintained in this way.
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At a nearby rock formation, Shawn directed our attention to some spear fragments that were lodged in crevices high up in a corner of the overhang. This was the location of a spear throwing contest, where young men showed off their skills. We continued asking him random questions and learned that his wife had died of a heart attack, and these tours were a secondary source of income for him. On a more joyful note, he told us his son’s upcoming birthday would be celebrated with lots of dancing. 

​We returned Shawn to Gunbalanya and started the return journey to Jabiru. The water level at Cahill’s Crossing was finally low, and we could see the road’s appearance under more ideal conditions, which retrospectively heightened the adventure of our earlier crossing. Nearby, a local fisherman had just caught a barramundi, but was rather close to the water’s edge… living dangerously.

Dinner was a large wok of fried rice. We continued playing games with the same run-down set of RiteMate branded cards, with pictures of tradies in high-viz construction gear. Ben, Emma, Gill, and I tried to start a game of President, but realized that none of us played with the same set of rules. After a little negotiating, we ironed them out. I had only just learned the game on the Whitsundays cruise, and I was the weakest player. It’s an unforgiving game, where the loser of the previous round has a disadvantage going into the next round. It was still good fun though.

Day 3, and time to leave Jabiru. Many of the premier waterfalls in Kakadu National Park, like Jim Jim and Maguk, were still closed for crocodile surveys or construction. Instead, Rick took us to a secluded rockhole called Moline. It was very much off the beaten path; the access road was the bumpiest of the tour. However, it was charming and we had the place to ourselves (apart from a few rather large orb weaver spiders). It was fun to swim up to the waterfall and feel its pounding intensity on the shoulders.

​We continued driving, stopping for a photo op at the Kakadu sign on our way out of the park.

​The next rest stop was at the quirky Lazy Lizard Resort in Pine Creek, which had a few surprises including a reptile house and an enormous garage full of classic cars. The town of Pine Creek was founded when a construction team tasked with building the railroad between Alice Springs and Darwin struck gold and changed careers to become miners.

In the hottest part of the day, we reached Edith Falls, part of Nitmiluk National Park. Most of us braved the short hike to the upper falls, which was a bit grueling in the sun but definitely worthwhile. We got in our second swim of the day. The falls were powerful, and pushed us backwards as we swam towards them, like an aquatic treadmill. A few people ducked behind them but found it hard to breath with the rushing water. 

One rockpool at Edith Falls had a separate hole like a well. Other visitors told us there was an underwater passageway that connected the hole and the main lake. The water was dark and murky, and we couldn’t see the tunnel from above. Ben, the Canadian daredevil, decided to give it a try. He descended into the well and found the passageway but bumped his head on the way back up. The rest of us were relieved to see him surface again, but were shocked by the enormous red welt on his head! No one else decided to give it a try. (Ben was fine, and it healed surprisingly quickly.)

Soon we reached the town of Katherine and made a grocery stop. The town was smoky from controlled burns. The bottle shop was a focal point here. Rick warned us that the police officer at the door would ask us where we planned to consume our drinks, to discourage people from drinking in the park. I happened to enter when the police officer was talking to cars in the drive-thru line, but others from the group were asked and had to recall the name of the campsite.

On the bright side, the smokiness contributed to a lovely sunset. Our campsite even had a dedicated hilltop area for viewing it.

​Dinner was later that night, so we snacked on charcuterie and hummus to tide us over. Rick continued to do the heavy lifting on meal prep, but the rest of us pitched in with chopping veggies and the like. I sipped on a beer from Alice Springs Brewing. 

​Gill taught the kids a new card game, but the elder sister caught on faster and won every time, distressing the younger sister. We also played some more equal-footing games like Go Fish.

Later when it was just the four solo travelers playing cards, we found an enormous frog in the kitchen. Ben tried to scoop it up with a dustpan, but it hopped into the recycling! We eventually got it outside.

​The main activity on Day 4 was the Katherine Gorge cruise. We arrived early and browsed the visitor center. A beautiful blue-winged kookaburra was perched in the parking lot. They have a very different call from the laughing kookaburras, which we had heard at night but didn’t recognize.

On the walk down to the pier, Ben and I caught a glimpse of a brown-colored snake with a mouse in its mouth. Later we also glimpsed a black snake in the bushes.
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The river was not continuous, so the tour was actually two separate boat cruises with an intervening hike through a rocky part of the gorge.

​On the second boat, we went deeper into the gorge. The local Jawoyn people associate the river with the Rainbow Serpent, an important dreamtime creation being. ​​After an hour of going deeper into the gorge we turned around, The lighting was better, so the return journey was even more scenic.

Overall, the Katherine Gorge cruise was enjoyable, and worth paying the extra cost (the cruise wasn’t included in our tour package) but it was upstaged by Kakadu’s beauty.
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After that, we stopped for a swim at the Katherine Hot Springs. A bit of a misnomer, as the water temperature was more lukewarm than hot. Even though it was accessed by modern staircases and bridges, it retained a rainforest setting that was wild around the edges.

​Rick found us a picnic area in town, which involved a little suburban off-roading: driving the van over the curb and into the park. Our lunch operation was a well-oiled machine, with veggie chopping, arranging plates of toppings, dishwashing, and eating the leftover veggie scraps ("rabbit duty," my specialty). Rick even had foldup chairs stashed in a side compartment of the van, which were great for sitting on during lunch but a nightmare to squeeze back in.

The afternoon was the longest drive of the tour, going from Katherine to the edge of Litchfield, about 3 hours total. We made one stop at a cemetery in Adelaide River honoring victims of the Darwin bombings. Apparently it’s Australia’s only dedicated war cemetery. A sign at the entrance instructed us to close the gate to prevent the wild pigs from getting in. It was a peaceful and reflective place. Mobs of agile wallabies browsed in the bush outside the fenced perimeter, including one with a joey in the pouch.

​The campsite in Litchfield was another comfortable setup with screened tents. The tents had silly names like the Love Shack or the White House. It bordered a farm; a small car piled with farm dogs went zooming by, and the cows followed in its direction. We visited the swimming pool, which was heavily chlorinated in contrast to our freshwater rockhole swimming. We ended up playing a massive game of Marco Polo, even inviting another family to join the fun. For dinner, tacos were on the menu, and of course, more cards.

​The Litchfield campsite was also full of critters. There were geckos on the screened tents. While walking to the bathroom in the dark, the rustling of jumping frogs kept us on our toes. The bathroom itself was swarmed with bugs, including large katydids. A found the cutest little frog perched on the shower tap. Outside, the stars were also pretty. I was appreciative of this authentic Aussie campsite experience.

It was the final morning of the tour. Rick made bacon and eggs for breakfast. I helped load the eskys into the truck. While draining the liquid from the melted ice, Rick playfully splashed some on me. Once packed, we drove away through a manual gate, and pretended to leave Ben behind. The group was in a good mood.
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The first stop in Litchfield National Park was the termite mounds. There were two types to showcase here.

The Cathedral termite mounds were enormous, rounded columns. We had seen them in the distance over the past few days, and now took a closer look. Rick explained these termites eat grass, not wood, and stockpile their food to survive the wet season. There is a queen termite and king termite with dedicated chambers. New spinoff colonies are started by flying termites that launch from the top of the mound during a full moon. Apparently, paste made from termite mounds is a bush remedy for diarrhea. Rick told the story of an ill-fated school camping trip plagued by a stomach virus, where a guide finally put the termite medicine to the test. Though it tasted awful, it did the trick.

​Unique to this location were the Magnetic termite mounds, so named because they point north/south to minimize heating from the sun. They were large and flat, like tombstones with spikes.

​The main activity in Litchfield was a trail that connected the Buley rockhole to Florence falls, with multiple swimming spots along the way. The whole area was located on a raised plateau, meaning it’s not accessible to crocodiles during the wet season – phew. We scouted out each spot, sometimes stopping to swim, other times skipping to find a better place. One particularly good rockhole was deep enough for jumping in. It had several natural platforms of varying heights. I eventually braved the taller jump! Being with a supportive group really helped with the nerves when standing at the top looking down.

​The final swimming place was the popular Florence falls. The shallows at the entrance were crystal clear and populated with medium sized black fish. It was a much larger and deeper pool. We swam across to feel the thundering power of the falls.

We had our final lunch at the Tabletop Swamp. Like most of our lunches, it was a sandwich bar with veggies, meats, and cheese. Supplying food for a 5-day journey was no small feat, but we were all well nourished.

​Back at lower elevation, Wangi Falls were closed to swimming due to the ongoing crocodile survey. We saw a giant cage with bait right next to the viewing platform. The hike to the top of the falls was also closed, but given it was the hottest part of the afternoon, no one was too upset.

Finally we drove back to Darwin. Rick was able to drop people off at their hotels or the airport. I was dropped off at a motel near my Servas host’s house. After a warm farewell to the remaining group, I hiked off into the tropical forest of suburban Darwin.
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While I wouldn’t normally plan a vacation around swimming opportunities, the chance to relax in natural rockholes and campsite pools was a nice feature of the organized trip. Even more so with the camaraderie of a tight-knit and fun-loving group. The secluded Moline Falls, the sprawling Edith falls, and the jumping spots at Buley Falls each had a different charm. It goes to show there are many different ways to appreciate Australia’s natural beauty.

​The highlight of my visit to Top End Australia was a 5-day guided tour that visited three national parks – Kakadu, Nitmiluk, and Litchfield. I was particularly excited at the prospect of seeing wild crocs, waterfalls in red canyons, and ancient rock art.

While it’s possible to see these places by renting a car, I’m glad I had the tour for a few reasons. One was accessibility, like making the treacherous Cahill’s Crossing into Arnhem Land, where a special permit is needed. Another was seasonality, as many attractions were not yet open following the wet season. The guide was able to take us to the best places that were feasible given the conditions. The third and more practical reason was the lodging. As a solo traveler, I didn’t want to pay for an expensive hotel room inside the park. These were not towns with hostels. Nor did I want to rough a campsite alone. The tour offered a way to stay at economical campsites with safety in numbers.

Rick was our driver and guide, a seasoned professional with 27 years of experience. He was exceptional at feeding us the right amount of information at a digestible cadence, giving us a proactive heads-up on bathroom stops, meal timing, and swimming opportunities. He was effective as a nature guide, pointing out unique plant and animal species, as well as a cultural ambassador when explaining the rock art sites. He was a competent chef, leading the dinner preparations every night while creating opportunities for us to jump in and help. Rick also had a great sense of humor. One time, in the middle of a nature talk, he reached into the hollow of a tree and pretended to be pulled in, a hilarious bit of slapstick that caught us off guard! We were incredibly lucky to be on Rick’s tour.

​The group itself also had a good dynamic. There were 10 of us in total, 3 foreigners and 7 Australians, and a mix of all ages. It felt like being on a family road trip!

There was a couple from Wollongong, Emma and Andrew, with their two daughters in 3rd and 6th grade. Emma did an excellent job of making sure the kids were behaving on the long drives, while also encouraging them to participate and engage. It was uplifting to see good parenting with an emphasis on learning through travel. The kids were precocious and added a dose of energy to the whole trip.

An older couple from Perth, Eric and Chris, played the role of good-natured grandparents. Chris was hard of hearing, a side effect of COVID, and Eric would occasionally sit out an activity, but otherwise they kept up with the younger crowd just fine. Eric had an interesting life story, having lived in several countries like South Africa and India, had been a priest, and worked with homeless people in rough inner cities.

And finally that leaves the other solo travelers. Gill was a lawyer from Melbourne who was relaxed and personable. I learned she was a fellow theater kid and also lived in Carlton. Emma (yes there were two Emmas in the group!) was a French working holidaymaker who had been staying with a family friend in rural NSW. She seemed a bit hesitant at times, but clearly had the self-confidence to embark on this adventure. Emma was full of hilarious French interjections, especially when playing cards. ​Ben was a jack-of-all-trades from Canada, who had been driving a tractor for his working holiday in Queensland. Soon he would be returning home to work at the Calgary stampede. Ben was extremely friendly and the principal daredevil of the group, seeking out rocks to jump off on all our swimming stops.

The bus was a hefty 4WD, smaller than the bus on Fraser Island, but still with empty seats. The entrance had a fold-down step and a water cooler, a lifeline in the Top End’s tropical weather. The back had a tiny luggage compartment and trunk, both of which were tightly packed. The main cargo was a pair of enormous blue eskys, which kept our food ingredients cold.

​The first day was totally jam-packed with memorable moments. Pickup was 6:30am in downtown Darwin. We briefly stopped in Humpty Doo for supplies, then headed to the Mary River for a billabong cruise. The wildlife spotting began en route. We saw around 15 types of animals in the first few hours alone. For example, water buffalo which are an introduced species that wreak havoc on the fragile wetlands. The most common macropods in the region are called Agile Wallabies, and they were indeed agile when scattering into the bush as we drove past.

​The cruise took place at the Corroborree Billabong. A billabong is a cutoff bend of the river, also known as an oxbow lake. It was teeming with mangroves, pandanus trees, water lilies, and birds. The water lily flowers extended into the distance as far as the eye could see, a stunning backdrop. The floating lily pads were hydrophobic, with beads of water resting on top.

​The Top End has two main seasons – the wet season, roughly November to April, and the dry season, roughly May to October. I visited at the very end of May, which was still early in the dry season. The water levels at the billabong were still high, but in a few weeks, many ponds would be gone.

The most striking bird was the jabiru (JAB-a-roo), Australia’s only species of stork. The tall and stately jabirus had a dark blue neck. When taking flight, their white wings had a prominent black stripe. Fun fact, female jabirus have yellow eyes, while males have black eyes. Other birds included egrets, herons, ibises, cormorants, magpie geese, and snake-necked darters.

​Of course, we were all hoping to see crocodiles – and we saw three! They were a mix of freshwater and saltwater crocs, with the saltwater crocs being larger. One “saltie” was resting in the grass with its yellow mouth wide open, apparently for ventilation. Another was floating in the shallows, with jabirus walking around it. The driver advanced the boat until it bumped into the edge of the water, just a few meters from the croc! It smiled for our photos.

​As we drove into Kakadu National Park, we saw dozens of controlled burns in progress. Late May is the beginning of the dry season, and the ideal time for these fires. Rick explained that a proper controlled burn would clear the understory without charring the tree trunks. The most striking thing about these controlled burns was the lack of people around them. I always assumed that controlled burns were closely monitored, but we didn’t see a single person near any of them. However, the pace of the flames seemed reasonably slow. Only one or two burns looked like they were picking up, and Rick said they would be watched more closely.

​Above these fires circled numerous whistling kites, hunting for mice or other smoked-out prey. Nicknamed “firebirds,” the kites sometimes carry burning twigs to start new fires, and apparently are the main cause of uncontrolled burns in the park. Driving through the charred bush with circling kites was beautiful in a way that was hard to describe. It was a front row seat to the area’s dynamic landscape, but also a bit ominous to be surrounded by fire-wielding raptors.

​We arrived at our campsite in the town of Jabiru, named after the storks we had just seen. I was expecting to be sleeping in a “bush swag,” a single person tent on the ground. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to be staying in screened cabins. There were enough for us to have individual rooms. The cabins had electrical outlets for charging, and fans to cope with the hot nighttime temperatures. One night before going to bed, I checked the weather, and it was 83 F with 70% humidity. The humidity often increased at night, counteracting the dropping temperature. So we didn’t get the best quality of sleep, but it was much better than a bush swag.

​The intended activity for the afternoon was crossing the East Alligator River to meet with a local guide in Arnhem Land. However, when we reached Cahill’s Crossing, the conditions were unfavorable. On a good day, it’s still submerged underwater and surrounded by crocodile-infested waters. This was a bad day, with rapids too. I thought of my recent experience on Fraser Island, when the bus got stuck in the sand and we had to jump out. Crocs outside the bus seemed way scarier than dingoes. Thankfully Rick paused to assess.

​Cahill’s Crossing is close enough to the ocean that water level and current change throughout the day. When we arrived it was 0.7m deep (Rick said 0.5m was comfortable) and the water was moving rapidly. Rick mulled over the situation, while we waited at the viewing platform. Our tour was one of few that included Arnhem Land in the itinerary; most people just visit the platform to soak in the scene and watch other vehicles make the crossing. Anticipation was in the air. The tourists waited for someone to cross. The fisherman along the river waited for something to bite. And the crocs waited for someone to make a mistake…

Rick smartly decided not to attempt the crossing. The itinerary left the possibility of coming back the next day. Instead, we visited Ubirr, a famous rock art site and panoramic lookout that I was actually hoping to see anyways.
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The rock art at Ubirr was quite stunning. The paintings spanned many eras of history, from 20,000 years ago to European contact. Some paintings were of the “x-ray style,” which depicts animals in cross-section with internal organs. X-ray animals included barramundi, goannas, turtles, and wallabies. Other paintings were stick figures, like an Aboriginal fisherman or a European depicted with their hands in their pockets.

Some paintings were accompanied by the silhouette of a handprint, made by spitting ochre, as the artist’s signature. The ochre paints are able to sink into the porous sandstone 2-7mm, so even as the rock erodes, the paintings persist. Their sheltered location also helped. To further prevent rainwater damage, there was a line of silicone installed underneath the overhang, which causes the water droplets to divert.

A handful of paintings were improbably located on the undersides of rocky overhangs, several stories above. This included one of the Mimi spirits (from local folklore) and a Tasmanian tiger, now extinct in the area.

Another art location was an ancient classroom, with paintings of morality stories for children. The stories featured young people who disobeyed tribal norms, like eating a certain animal before they were properly initiated into adulthood, that escalate into inter-tribal warfare as a cautionary tale.
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The views from the top of Ubirr were also impressive, with the vast floodplains to one side and the rocky escarpment in the other direction. Not bad for a last-minute substitution.

​But the day wasn’t over yet! We were given the option to book an extra activity – a scenic flight over Kakadu, from the Jabiru airport. I had skipped scenic flights in several other places on the trip, waiting for the right moment, and here it was. My commercial flights to/from Darwin were both at night, so I hadn’t seen the Top End from above. I was also hoping to see some of the waterfalls that were currently closed for road access (though it turned out these were farther south in the park, outside of the flight path). At a price of $172 USD for a one-hour session, it also seemed within reach.

Seven of us said yes to the flight – the family from Wollongong, myself, Emma, and Ben. We were under the impression one plane would fit all 7 of us, but we actually got split into two planes. In mine, it was just the pilot and three passengers. I’d never been in a small plane before, and I appreciated that the wing was above the window, offered unobstructed views of the landscape. We wore headsets and could hear the chatter with air traffic control. Overall, it was very comfortable, with more leg room than Jetstar. The pilot described the features of the landscape with good detail and enthusiasm.

The scenery was jaw-dropping from start to finish. It was tricky to balance the pure amazement with taking photos/videos, but this was an excellent problem to have.
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Jabiru is a mining town, and the first thing we saw was the giant uranium mine. This area of Kakadu has high amounts of uranium, arsenic, mercury, and lead. The Aboriginal people of the area, the Jawoyn, have long called it “Sickness Country” – possibly due to these dangerous minerals causing illness. Mining operations pre-dated the founding of the national park, so when Kakadu was established in 1979, the mining land was excepted. Nowadays it’s winding down operations, but it still stuck out like an eyesore.

​Flying over Stone Country was like being in the establishing shot of a nature documentary. Beyond the scenic cliffs of the escarpment lay a vast metropolis of sandstone, carved into grids and cast with golden light. I glimpsed a small waterfall, almost hidden in the shadows. Even as we flew farther and farther across the Arnhem Plateau, the rocks still had no end in sight. I knew Kakadu was big, but seeing it first-hand was hard to comprehend.

​Eventually we turned around and started following the East Alligator River downstream into the floodplains. The river was lined with thick sandbars, all from eroded sandstone that washed downstream. 

​We flew over Arnhem Land, catching a glimpse of the green plains that we were denied earlier at Cahill’s Crossing. The pilot pointed out a few Aboriginal towns. During the wet season, both the river crossing and the airstrips are flooded, so Arnhem Land is completely cutoff from the outside world.

​The flight continued over the Magela Floodplain, an immense region of protected wetland. We were close enough to see details like flocks of white egrets and clusters of lily pads. The sunset was muffled by the clouds, but still amplified the beauty of the billabongs.

​Before returning to the airport, the pilot did a lap around the town of Jabiru to show off its most famous building – the Mercure Crocodile Hotel – shaped like a giant crocodile. He also pointed out a manmade lake, intended as a swimming spot for the miners. They stopped using it when they realized it can be accessed by crocodiles during the wet season.

​Back at camp, we had a sausage and steak dinner in the kitchen tent, and played card games, including Go Fish and a silly one called Taco/Hat/Cake/Gift/Pizza. After the kids went to bed, the adults continued chatting over beers. There was a large school group at the adjacent campsite, but they were quieting down. On the walk to the bathroom, I made sure to stop and admire the stars. What an unforgettable day.

To end, here's some GoPro footage from the scenic flight, set to the only music that's suitable -- King Stingray's "Sweet Arnhem Land."

​Darwin is the only major city on Australia’s northern coast. Though “major” is relative! With a population of only 148,000, this capital of the Northern Territory felt spacious and nonchalant compared to the big cities on the east coast. With its blend of a tropical climate, Asian and Aboriginal influences, and rugged outback character, it felt like a cultural anomaly shaped by geography. As my guidebook put it, Darwin is “closer to Bali than Bondi.”

​Visiting Darwin was my last major domestic trip within Australia, and my seventh capital city, completing the whole set. I decided to experience it through two different lenses. The first three nights, I stayed at a backpacker hostel to get a taste of the city center. The last two nights, I stayed with a Servas host in a quieter suburb to soak in the local life. In between, I went on a 5-day guided tour to the national parks. This blog post is just on the first part of my Darwin visit.

Arriving there just after midnight, I stepped off the plane and called an Uber. I was traveling light, with no checked bags, no laptop, and no clothing heavier than a running jacket. My driver was an immigrant from Melbourne with a hyper-relaxed demeanor who welcomed me aboard. I learned he was an accountant moonlighting as an Uber driver on weekends. He loved Darwin’s opportunities for professional advancement and lack of traffic.

He dropped me off on bustling Mitchell Street, party central on a Saturday night. Darwin has a reputation for its party scene, and well, here I was. The hostel entrance was squeezed in next to an Irish bar called Shenanigan’s and was directly opposite a zoo called Crocasaurus Cove. During the daytime, I could see into the crocodile tank from the hostel lobby. Welcome to Darwin, where you can party with the crocs!

​The hostel was named the Youth Shack, so my expectations were pretty low. It actually wasn’t too bad, with a pool, patio, strong AC, and a study room with computers. The most striking thing was the people. Even wearing shorts and a t-shirt, I felt overdressed. All of the men I encountered in the hallway were shirtless and had multiple tattoos.

​The three other people in my dorm were all “long termers,” staying at the Youth Shack while pursuing working holidays in manufacturing or farmwork, many in their second year in Australia. I gathered this trend extended to the rest of the hostel, as  there were piles of work boots in the hall, a prominent job desk in the lobby, and the many high-viz uniforms at breakfast. Far gone was the Queensland backpacker scene, with its fresh arrivals and gender balance.

​One of my roommates was an Irishman with a “slainte” tattoo behind his ear, who arrived on the same day as me. He interviewed for a job in concrete formwork and started right away. Another roommate was a muscular Italian with a buzz cut and several tattoos – a cursive “Made in Italy” and an AK-47 on his chest, a giant cross on his back. He had to change to a different room, and the original room was miraculously decluttered.

After a good night’s sleep, I set out for my first day of sightseeing. I restocked on snacks at the local Wooly’s, which had a nice-looking sushi selection for a chain store. The main pedestrian street was a bit dingy and virtually deserted, a sign that peak season was yet to come. I reached the edge of the CBD, where a bridge and an elevator took me down to the waterfront precinct. It was modern and polished. There were restaurants with lots of outdoor seating, an artificial wave pool, and a convention center. I continued walking out to the wharf, pacing myself as I was no longer in the protection of the shade.

Ten weeks after Pearl Harbor, the same Japanese fleet descended on the Darwin Harbor in a destructive set of attacks that sunk 11 vessels and killed 250 people. One vessel, the MV Neptuna, exploded while docked at Stokes Hill wharf where the museum is now located. The museum brought this cataclysmic scene to life in several ways. There were VR headsets that put you alongside soldiers on the wharf or a fighter jet pilot, a vibrating platform that mimicked the rumble of the bombs, and a hologram movie theater with detailed first-hand accounts.

The Flying Doctor part of the museum was similarly advanced. A hologram of John Flynn, the founder of the Flying Doctor Service, explained the progression in delivering healthcare to remote areas in Australia. Before modern technology, pedal-powered radios were used to call for help. Later, a simple numbered grid of the body was developed for communicating symptoms. Nowadays, the fleet travels 27 million kilometers every year, providing a variety of preventive and emergency services.
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The museum had a VR headset that allowed you to be inside the plane watching a nurse defibrillate a patient while communicating with the pilot about their arrival in Adelaide. There was also a retired plane you could enter – I hopped in the cockpit for fun. It was fascinating to think about treating patients on a moving plane as an extreme case for medical devices.

​On the walk back to the hostel, I admired some street art and stopped for a poke bowl at Fat Tuna. I picked out an interesting soda that I thought was local to Darwin, but the address on the label was a few blocks from my apartment in Carlton… oops!

​In the late afternoon, I walked to the Mindil Beach Sunset Market. There were lots of entertaining wares, from digeridoos to taxidermy cane toads. A booth selling cattle whips had a cordoned-off area where they would teach people how to use them.  There were Thai massage booths and a live folk band playing under the banner of Crocodile Country. I sampled a few types of beef jerky, and ultimately bought a pack from Bogan Biltong – “bogan” being an Aussie term for a rough person, and “biltong” being a South African style of jerky.

​Being an adventurous eater, I also took advantage of the Mindil Market’s incredible food selection. Dinner was a crocodile burger with mango and chili sauce, one of the better exotic meats out there. ​​Dessert was a red bean milkshake – yum!

Seeing a sunset from Mindil Beach is considered a quintessential Darwin experience, and naturally it was a bit crowded. The sunset that night was divine, with clouds stretching into the distance that reflected the changing colors. As the sun dipped into the Timor Sea, its enormous orange orb was eclipsed with the silhouettes of boats. The prettiest part was when the sky faded to violet, and the people by the water became silhouettes too.

​The next morning, I walked to Aquascene for the high tide fish feeding. Another one of Darwin’s long-standing tourist destinations, this was a unique chance to feed hordes of wild fish with… bread? The admission included access to tubs of sliced bread that we could break down and toss into the water or hand feed to the fish. After my basic breakfast, I was tempted to steal a bite too.

​The most common fish were the diamond-scaled mullet, which looked a bit like koi, and milkfish with pointy tailfins that frequently breached the water. Less common were the bat fish, with large flat bodies, and the mangrove jack, a red carnivorous fish with an underbite. The swarm was quite a sight! ​A guide narrated the whole experience, pointing out when the rarer types made an appearance, and handing out fish scraps so we could feed the carnivores.

​Kids and adults alike were having a great time. Among the modest crowd were a pair of monks in orange robes. There was also a couple from Perth, who were visiting a relative in Darwin that worked as a professional crocodile wrangler. I ended up staying to the end of the 2-hour feeding session.

Afterwards, I had a working afternoon at the hostel’s study room, sorting out some flight issues. Once that was buttoned up, I headed across the street to meet the neighbors at Crocasaurus Cove.
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The main saltwater crocodile exhibits were enthralling. I couldn’t believe how enormous and indestructible they looked! They could swim through the water so gracefully, and effortlessly sink to the bottom. At the same time, their gnarly teeth and jagged dorsal spines made them genuinely frightening.

​The crocodile facts posted on the walls added to their intrigue. “Crocodile” comes from the Greek word “krokodeilos” meaning “pebble worm.” It’s estimated there are 140,000 saltwater crocs in Australia, with 60% in the Northern Territory. They can spend up to 3 hours underwater and have a special third eyelid. Crocs have a sixth sense – the ability to detect small pressure changes in the water, and therefore the direction of potential prey. They even have a special heart valve that doesn’t exist in any other animal, which redirects blood flow away from the lungs while diving.

​One of the famous attractions at Crocasaurus Cove is the “Cage of Death,” an immersive experience where brave souls in a transparent tube are lowered into the croc exhibit. I got to see this cage in action from a comfortable distance as an outside observer. The keepers lowered a piece of meat on a string so the croc would show off its hunting skills at point blank. Wendell the croc was a little slow to strike, but the clapperboard smack of his closing jaws still made a powerful sound. There was a similar “crocodile fishing” experience in the juvenile croc tank. It was a little too much like baiting a circus animal for my taste. In the rivers outside of Darwin, “jumping crocodile” cruises are unfortunately a popular tourist draw.

​Some of the other noteworthy crocs included Burt, who starred in Crocodile Dundee and is now over 80 years old. There was also a breeding pair named William and Kate, after the royal couple. They nuzzled underwater and looked extremely happy together.

​The Cove had more than just crocs – I attended a talk by the fish aquarium, which had freshwater whiprays and adorable pig-nosed turtles. There was also a talk in the reptile house, where I got to hold a Hosmer’s skink and a Children’s python. Note: this python is not recommended for children, but rather is named after a guy named Children. There were tons of beautiful snakes and goannas, including one that leaped onto a hanging lightbulb and pulled it down to the ground in a daring escape attempt.

That night, ​I watched the sunset from a smaller, more secluded beach that was closer to the hostel. I was looking forward to seeing my friend Morgan, the Welsh guy I met in the Grampians, as he was in Darwin too. Unfortunately, he flaked on me. I consoled myself with fresh Thai street noodles.

​So far, Darwin was hitting all the right notes – tasty food, intriguing history, amazing animals, and spectacular sunsets. Stay tuned for more Top End adventures.

​The Whitsunday Islands are considered one of the best places for sailing in Australia, so I signed up for a 2-day sailing trip on the Waltzing Matilda, a ship named after a ballad that became the country’s unofficial national anthem. Going into the journey, my main concern was getting seasick. The ocean motion ended up being quite manageable (no one aboard got sick). However, one ailment did strike – cabin fever. Confined to this 60 ft boat were 15 people, including 13 tourists, the cranky captain, and his first mate. While "mutiny" is a bit of an exaggeration, there were some tensions between the passengers and the captain that almost blew up. Apart from this incident, the rest of the trip was smooth sailing. We enjoyed a snorkel in the marvelous Great Barrier Reef and set foot on the famous sands of Whitehaven Beach.

​The sailing trip left from the resort town of Airlie Beach, about 1100km north of Brisbane. I flew from Brisbane to the Proserpine airport, charitably named the “Whitsunday Coast Airport” despite being 30 minutes inland and surrounded by farms. On the flight, I had a window seat and was treated to amazing views of the Queensland coast. I spotted Noosa and Fraser Island, where I had just been a few days earlier. As we approached the Whitsundays, there were dozens of little islands and glimpses of the reef. It was one of the most scenic flights I’ve ever taken. Not bad for a $75 USD Jetstar ticket.

​In Airlie Beach, I stayed at a hostel that was confusingly named The Hostel. It had a laid back atmosphere. At its center was a large courtyard with picnic tables and umbrellas. Each room had a balcony overlooking the courtyard, and occasionally, a screeching sulfur-crested cockatoo would perch itself on the railing.

In the previous 11 days, I had spent the night in 8 different places. ​It was a relief to have almost 2 days of doing nothing except resting and journaling. The most exciting part of the day was discovering a “New Zealand Food” section at the local Woolworth’s. They had a special Kiwi soda that I had been looking for, called L&P – lemon and spring water of Paeroa, a small town on the North Island. It was essentially a sparkling lemonade, but still a fun novelty.

Bit by bit, the group began to assemble. It was a diverse international turnout, and all young backpackers. There were two other solo travelers: Valentina from France, a free-spirited pharmaceutical lawyer, and Julius, an innocent 18-year-old from the Netherlands about to start in film school. A friendly Aussie/Czech couple included Sam, a software sales AE from Sydney who played guitar. Another couple was German/Romanian. The latter was a strange fellow named Raul, who didn’t speak English very well and wasn’t eligible to work in Australia, complicating the couple’s working holiday. On the upper deck, it was too windy to light his cigarettes, so Raul stretched out his girlfriend’s shirt and ducked underneath with his lighter. Also onboard was a tight-knit squad of four girls who met while working in Townsville, originally from Argentina, Finland, Sweden, and Germany. The final two travelers were also from Germany, so German was the unofficial second language of the cruise.

​And then there was Captain Pete. He seemed capable of being charming but had the most unorthodox speaking cadence. It involved repetition of phrases with no context, sentences that ended when their intonation suggested more, and extensive use of sound effects. When asking us to secure the bathroom doorhandle with an elastic band, he mimicked the “bing bang boom” of the untethered door for much longer than was necessary. The group awkwardly listened to his drawn-out safety briefing for what felt like an eternity. He also attempted to be a tour guide, and tell us basic information about the area, but it was diluted by his dramatic pauses. At the end, he really wanted us to ask questions, so I asked if the Waltzing Matilda had been damaged in the 1970 cyclone he mentioned earlier. His reply: “a little bit.” Followed by silence. I quickly realized that every minute spent with him was a minute wasted.

​The first mate, Dan, was a silent superhero. In addition to managing the moorings and the sails, he doubled as the snack chef. Platters of pizza slices or fruit slices or nachos appeared at convenient times, raised onto the upper deck and happily gobbled up.

​The main meals were basic but crowd-pleasers. Less thrilling than the professional photos on the cruise’s website, but still a good quantity and variety. Breakfast included yogurt and croissants. Lunches were self-assembled sandwiches or wraps. Dinner was pasta, paired with a moreish garlic bread. Eating on a boat was not without its challenges. Since we ate on the top deck, we had to navigate the narrow ladder with full plates or cups. Lettuce and chips were routinely blown off our plates, sometimes onto our neighbors. And the rocking boat was a challenge, especially for already difficult tasks like trying to assemble a tortilla wrap. Add it to the list of unusual travel cooking scenarios!

​The boat’s layout was compact. It fit a surprising amount, including a shower in the main bathroom and an extra sink in my shared room. However, there wasn’t much wiggle room elsewhere. The bunks were tiny. I had the upper bunk and was glad I didn’t roll off. I don’t know how Julius even fit into the lower bunk. The second bathroom was claustrophobic, with a ceiling that was too low to stand up, a lock that didn’t work, and a toilet that seemed like it could clog at any moment. This was no luxury cruise, but it was part of the experience – and everyone was respectful of each other’s space, as much as they could be.

​The first destination was a snorkeling area near Border Island. The water was choppy as we crossed the open ocean between the mainland and the larger islands. I sat near the front, soaking in the adventure, until I was literally soaked and then retreated to the stern. The weather was mixed, with momentary sunbursts but mostly clouds. A cold wind from Antarctica had been lingering in the area for weeks.

​The cruise took place in late May, when dangerous species of jellyfish in the water were no longer a concern, so unlike my first taste of the Great Barrier Reef back in January, stinger suits weren’t provided. At the same time, the water temperature wasn’t considered cold enough for wet suits. We shivered in the Antarctic winds as we climbed from the Waltzing Matilda into a tiny speedboat. Packed shoulder to shoulder, it was crowded but had the advantage of trapping heat. When the boat took off, we all grimaced as the whipping wind and sea spray hit our vulnerable bodies.

​I’m really glad it wasn’t my first snorkeling experience, as it lacked a sense of agency. For no good reason, Pete started counting down from 10 to time our entry, which led to a lot of panicked adjusting of masks. We entered the water, which was slightly warmer than the air temperature. Since we didn’t have fins, I grabbed a noodle just in case. As a side effect of being finless, the group didn’t spread out very quickly, so there was a lot of accidental kicking at the beginning. Pete stayed in the boat and directed us along the shore. The tide was fairly strong, which reduced the effort of swimming but increased the potential for crashing into shallow coral. My mask had a decent seal but the snorkel itself tended to fill with water. There was a scary moment or two when the snorkel clogged but I couldn’t stop to fix it because I was boxed in by shallow coral below and fellow swimmers to the side.

​Simultaneously, a visual smorgasbord of otherworldly coral and anemones danced below. I had heard this part of the GBR wasn’t as impressive as the northern parts near Cairns, so my expectations were low. I was blown away. The water visibility wasn’t the best, especially with the lack of sun, but the reef itself had a great variety of coral and fish species. There were familiar shapes of coral, like brains and fingers and antlers and cauliflower. There were also new types that looked like bubble wrap, ferns, and gift bows. Some had vibrant red or purple colors. Giant sea cucumbers were parked on the ocean floor, and clams with pulsing mouths were embedded in the rock. Spaghetti forests of anemone tentacles were animated by the tides. Schools of colorful fish skirted the edges of the coral, including a few tiny ones that were an eye-catching shade of neon blue. There were some medium sized parrotfish and butterfly fish, but nothing I would consider large. I was able to use Google Lens to retrospectively identify a few species of fish in my GoPro footage, including the sixbar angelfish, the two lined monocle bream, and the scissortail sargeant.

On the return from the second snorkel, Pete told us there would be a third snorkeling opportunity later in the day. Myself a few others stayed in our swim gear in anticipation. But not long after we departed Border Island, I happened to overhear Pete say that a third stop wasn’t in the cards, and followed up to confirm. Given it was a cold and cloudy day, and it didn’t seem like everyone would participate, I didn’t think too much of it. I did think it was strange that he would change his mind so suddenly, and not share this news with the whole group.

Our second stop was at Tongue Bay, which is the access point for the Whitehaven Beach Lookout and also where we spent the night. We were running out of daylight but set out for the lookout. Now in our dry clothes, we boarded the small speedboat and headed for the rocky beach where the trail began. Not only did we get wet from the ocean spray, but it was a treacherous landing. Pete steered the boat towards the shallows and indicated it was safe to get out. The first girl ended up waist-deep in water. When it was my turn, I wasn’t prepared to land on a minefield of sharp corals, and nearly lost my balance trying to avoid stepping on one. We regained our collective composure and started the hike to the lookout.

​Whitehaven Beach is one of those places that’s always depicted at low tide on a sunny day, when its signature swirling sands are most prominent. Getting to see it dressed up with soft pink and red colors of sunset was very special, and not something I was expecting from the tour. It was also uncrowded, and we could take all the photos we wanted.

​On the speedboat ride back to the Waltzing Matilda, one of the German girls – Louisa, I think – asked Pete if we could add the third snorkeling stop. Pete rejected the request without any sympathy or even acknowledging that he’d changed his mind. It was painfully obvious he wasn’t going to capitulate, but Louisa wouldn’t take that answer and continued pressing him about it. During this uncomfortable argument, the entire group was still shoulder to shoulder in the tiny boat. Pete disingenuously offered that we could snorkel again if the whole group was willing to skip the planned beach walk. He gave us time to think about it, breaking the stalemate. We got back on the Matilda and quietly discussed in smaller groups; it was clear that if we couldn’t do both, the group preferred the beach walk. We moved on with the evening, starting dinner and cracking open our BYO beers.

I had seen a guitar on the lower deck and went down to play a few tunes. Raul took notice and joined me. But the conflict broke out again. Louisa asked Pete why we couldn’t attempt the additional snorkeling early in the morning. The arguments got nastier; Louisa emphasized how much we were paying for the tour, while Pete accused her of “whinging” and being a bad person. While Louisa deserved blame for repeatedly poking the bear despite having a lost cause, Pete’s responses were even more appalling. It was totally unprofessional for a tour operator to be speaking to a passenger like that. His acrimonious attacks were the most hostile I’d seen from anyone in Australia. The argument fizzled out, and I was freed from the spellbinding train wreck.
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Chatting with Valentina, Julius, and Sam on the back deck was far more pleasant. The moon was bright and we could see the ridges of Whitsunday Island around us. The stars were partially masked by the clouds, but we tried to identify the ones we could see. We talked about how traveling with a group creates a shared collective memory, but that traveling solo creates memories that no one else can truly understand. We fished out beers from the esky, a team effort that required holding the lid open and shining a flashlight. I traded a Carlton Dry for a Great Northern, the same beer I had on the boat in Cairns after my first GBR snorkel. After a long day, we all slept surprisingly well. A few of us woke up to see the sunrise.

On the second outing to Whitehaven Beach, we were mentally prepared for the wet landing. Pete tried to hurry me off the boat, and I explained I was going slow because of the sharp corals. His reply? There weren’t any rocks. Was this guy delusional?
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The tide was coming in. It was a marvelous time to be at Whitehaven Beach. The virtual flatness of the beach meant the ripples of sand were being reshaped before our very eyes. The dry areas of sand started with a corrugated texture, dotted with holes excavated by soldier crabs. These elaborate patterns smoothed as the waves washed over them. Entire sandbars gradually disappeared.

​The high tide also gave the local stingrays an extended range. They ventured into the shallows to browse for crabs. Their tan color was easy to spot in the ankle-deep and transparent water, and they didn’t seem too fazed by our presence. We joked they were posing for our photos. I took an underwater video which revealed they weren’t just gliding over the sand, but repeatedly pressing their mouths down to the bottom. There were also a few baby lemon sharks around.

​I had the urge to split off from the group and return to the Hill Lookout. ​It was the middle of the day, and it was peak hour for the day tours arriving at Whitehaven. By coincidence, I timed it perfectly and arrived in the gap between two large tour groups. I savored the chance to soak in the view without the distraction of people jockeying for photos. When someone else did arrive, it was a tour guide from Ocean Rafting – the company that Vince and Rachel had chosen when they visited. He was surprisingly nice and started telling me about the stingray migration patterns from the upstream mangroves to the shallows to the open ocean. The ones in the shallows are apparently the juvenile rays! I’m tempted to say I learned more from 5 minutes with this serendipitous guide than 48 hours with my own “guide.”

The Waltzing Matilda was considerably slower than the day trip  speedboats. It took us the rest of the afternoon to travel back to Airlie Beach. I spent most of the journey hanging out on the top deck, where I was blasted with both wind and sun.

​Arriving back on land, we were finally rid of Captain Pete's presence. I returned to The Hostel and checked into a different room for my final night. At Valentina’s recommendation, I walked over the hill to Shute Harbor to watch the sunset with a grocery store dinner and another New Zealand soda, this time a feijoa flavored one. I watched as territorial seagulls swooped the innocent egrets browsing for fish, and flocks of cockatoos sought out an evening roost. It was a pleasant last night in Queensland.

The airport shuttle was 10 minutes early, but thankfully I was too. The airport had an aquarium in the waiting area, but the fish looked different than the ones I’d seen in the wild.
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In the end, the tour did deliver where it counted – beautiful snorkeling, off-peak access to Whitehaven Beach, and a more relaxed pace. Of course, I wish I had a different captain. I don’t normally write reviews, but I decided to post mine on several different platforms. My review on the official “Sailing Whitsundays” website was acknowledged by their customer service team but did not post to their public website. Makes me wonder if similar reviews were potentially suppressed. Though prior to signing up for the tour, I cross-checked on TripAdvisor and Google Reviews and didn’t see any red flags regarding Captain Pete. It’s a mystery, but not one that I’ll dwell on.