Darwin Adventure

Arriving in Darwin, it was hard to believe I was still in Australia. The hot, heavy air immediately created a sticky film on my skin and the vegetation bore more resemblace to a tropical island than the tall Australian eucalyptus. A generous $10 got me from A to B where I met my trusty travel companion Antonio Sebastian (a.k.a Digital Nomad 2) inside the hostel. Hungrily, we headed out in search of some local Laksa; an Indonesian derived dish that has become the iconic culinary must-have of Darwin. The cuisine here is largely based on a variety of South Asian foods, as we came to see at the Parap market the following morning. I led us to a café named Speakers’ Corner, nestled within the Supreme Court and Offices as, if you know anything, you know here is where to find the latest trendy hotspots. Speakers’ Corner is aimed towards hiring local First Nation peoples to help provide opportunities in hospitality and, quite clearly, the booming Laksa (spicy noodle soup) making sector. Surprisingly, there was no queue running outside but I suppose the word just hadn’t hit the street yet. We sat down in front of a steaming Laksa, as if the 35-degree heat needed any further encouragement, and I vowed as delicious as this first Laksa was, that this would also be the last of the trip. Astonished, Anton remained adamant that he would be having Laksa as many times as possible: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I chuckled at his naivety, let’s see about that!

Both our insides and outsides successfully burning, we did a tour through the courts, offices, and Darwin Museum before heading back to the hostel. The rest of the afternoon was spent doing the pretty generic things that pretty generic Digital Nomads (DN) do; tapping away at our laptops by the pool with a 4m salt water crocodile splashing around behind us. Croc Cove was hitting it off, and we got VIP free tickets being just next door #hacks. Rather ungenerically, however, Anton was sweating through his sun-lounger like no tomorrow whilst his skin turned a vibrant shade of ruby. Not cool DN2; dehydration and sun burn is no joke. DN1 (myself) thought it was time for DN2 to grow up.

That first evening we enjoyed a BBQ on the hostel rooftop before heading out to hit the town at the, objectively much too early, hour of 7:40pm. Perusing through a variety of different bars with live acoustic music and a range of cocktails, our excitement and energy eventually lapsed at 9:30pm when we realised clubs wouldn’t open until past 11, and the day had been a long one. This was no Jimmies night out in Durham. You couldn’t just waltz in at 10pm and be delivered a dance floor full of freshers screaming Mr Brightside without an ounce of decorum. We concluded, therefore, that a quick nap would do us good, so we giddily set an alarm for 11pm. At just after 12pm I was awoken by a concerned but wildly amused Anton shoutsping (shouting/whispering, obviously) my name. My alarm had been set without any ringtone! We decided it was not too late and besides, we were still dressed for the occasion. Rubbing our eyes, we sleepy, and entirely soberly (hooray), retraced our steps back to the club, tutting at all the drunken youth falling over the curb. The next hour in the club was enjoyable but also taught us two valuable lessons; never nap without a reliable alarm, and never enter a club in Darwin totally sober.

The next morning, we rode hire bikes to the Parap Market for a multi-course brunch of various Asian foods including Suman with red banana, paw paw salad, chicken mushroom siomai, lumpia and spring rolls, but excluding Mary’s infamous Laksa (DN2 had come to his senses). The market was colourful and flamboyant, with our various sampled foods all delicious and refreshingly different to anything I had eaten in a while. Being with the king of mango nerds I was firmly instructed to taste mango for the first time ever. However, this pre-cut tasteless mango was apparently not a true reflection of its true palatable potential, so we won’t talk about that. We got chatting to a few locals; a nice man with some terrible stories of crocodile disasters, and a rather unpleasant woman with some even more terrible opinions on (the lack of) First Nation land rights.

All fuelled up, it was time for our trek through Rapid Creek to the Casuarina Coastal Reserve. The sea was a beautiful piercing blue with clean white beaches, but all deserted. A very odd and rare paradox that can only be explained by the eerie presence of saltwater crocodiles patiently lurking just beneath the water’s surface. No one swims here, in seas or lakes or rivers, or even puddles! We rested briefly on the beach, but as ever, not brief enough for Anton to pass up a nap, before finishing out walk and hopping on the bus back. We were sweltering and exhausted, painted with dirt and sand and suncream, and so very thankful for our shower upon return at the hostel.

After cleaning up, we got through our first of 3 1L ice cream tubs of the holiday with remarkable speed and ease, before cycling peacefully in the evening sun to the Darwin Sailing Club. That evening was particularly memorable, passing by very happily and lazily as the bright orange sun began to droop behind the sea. Margherita glasses in hand and beach in sight, we chatted and chilled whilst watching the spectacle that was the renowned Darwin “sundown”. We both agreed this to be in our top 5 sunsets (probably top 2/3) as it was quite so bright and the sun was entirely whole and visible in the sky. Nothing like any other I had seen before. We wandered along the beach, scanning the sea all the while for an emerging croc, until we ended up at a random man’s birthday celebration at the Darwin Ski Club. We joined in the fun and excitement right up to that sweet-spot between free-riding and borderline weird, then enjoyed our first ever Uber Pool back home. It quickly became apparent through much rapture and laughter that this was also the first Uber Pool of everyone involved, including the driver! Complete and utter madness.

The next morning, we headed to the only swimmable water source in Darwin, the Aquapark. Being the unstoppable adrenaline junkies that we are, we had of course pre-booked the 10am session on the inflatable obstacle course and thus arrived promptly. A quick scan of the other participants (all walk-ins, such recklessness) confirmed the average age to be at least half of our own, or only just below if you include the two parents that came to look after their “little one”. Whatever, all the more fun for us. When the whistle blew, we stormed off the start line and launched ourselves at the course, slipping and sliding everywhere with comedic slapstick elegance. It was all fun and games until we started to burn our feet on the boiling hot plastic and the “little ones” came prancing over in their little swim socks their parents had oh-so-kindly purchased for them. Being the warriors, and cheap-skates, we are we preserved on, laughing at each other’s jumps and falls nonetheless. Just before the end we asked the only other two adults on the course to jump on the giant pillow for us so that we could go flying through the air. Rush of blood to the head and mission success- our daily dose of adrenaline had been accomplished, and by the early hour of 11am!

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The wave-machine in the main pool was a bit disappointing so instead we read our books then returned to the hostel for a nutritious lunch of tomatoes, mozzarella, bananas, Stack’s black pepper crackers (highly recommend), and another 1L tub of ice cream. Having digested this interesting assortment of foods, we Ubered to Mindle beach to make the most of yet another incredible sundown (fun fact- Uber first acknowledged as a verb in 2018). Along the beach we marvelled at a single hermit crab, picking it up, getting selfies, the whole shebang. The next thing we know, a couple walk past pointing out at the beach with a jeering, mocking look in their eyes. Our eyes widened as we suddenly spotted hundreds of hermit crabs scuttling along in synchrony. We laughed at our childish excitement over finding what we thought was quite possibly the only hermit crab in all of Australia. We continued on, careful not to step on all our new friends, and found a shark-ray washed up. At Anton trying to manoeuvre it carefully back into the ocean, a nearby fisherman instead picked it up by its tail and rocket launched it out to sea. If it wasn’t already dead, it most certainly died of cardiac arrest at being flung so high and forcefully in the air. RIP Rhina ancylostoma.

As the horizon guzzled up the last rich red embers of the sun, ominous dark cumulonimbus clouds rose to centre stage, casting an ethereal light over the bay. We wandered along, pausing to recreate Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling with the dramatic sky above and Anton’s (Adam’s) and I’s (God’s, of course) fingers pointing inwards. So expertly realistic, I almost forgot which was the real one! Anyway, our masterpiece complete, we walked through the palm trees and squawking bats towards the highly regarded ‘La Beach Fish & Chips’ for some dinner. We were told this was the local spot with the best fresh fish (and crocodile) in the area, and we were not disappointed. We shared some local Australian Salmon (not the characteristic pink of Atlantic Salmon) with a taste of crocodile for research purposes, and a ginormous trough of chips! Despite ordering a small side of chips between two, Australians never cease to show utmost generosity when it comes to their staple carbohydrate, and even incorporate their speciality “chicken salt” as an added bonus (despite the name, this native condiment is indeed vegan). It was a feast to be remembered and topped off perfectly with some fresh mango back at the hostel. This mango was quite something and I was taught the ins-and-outs of mango theory; how the cheeks can either be hollowed or hedge-hogged, how the flesh surrounding the seed has the best flavour and should be eaten skewed on the end of a sharp knife, and most importantly, how the ripeness of the mango can be determined by its sweetness of smell.

The next morning kickstarted at the ripe old hour of 4:30am, followed by a quick bowl of muesli and a hop, skip, and jump to the street where our tour commenced. A bus skidded wildly round the bend, coming to a sudden halt. Out jumped our guide Will, and he welcomed us to the group with a “GOOOOOOOOOOD MORNIN’, HOW YOU GOIN”!?” as he lifted his cowboy hat and tilted his head forward. Like an artist with paint on their hands, his bore the marks of a true, thoroughbred countryman. From fishing hooks to earthy mud and grit, symbols of his farmland upbringing and livelihood were etched on his hands, and he took on the uncanny resemblance of Outback Wrangler Matt Wright (google). Off we drove through the deserted landscape with the rising sun lighting the way, until we reached Middle Point on the Adelaide River (so the best river then?), also known as Croc Central!

Upon arrival we were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the rare, and highly legendary dance of the Brolgas, or Australian Crane. Ornithologists transpire this elegant jumping and prancing through the air not to be a breeding dance, but instead a way of strengthening bonds between couples, given it occurs not just during breeding season. Regardless, it was an impressive display that I felt very fortunate to see.

After signing a rather serious waiver form and receiving a worryingly brief health and safety briefing, a croc specialist led us to his small, modest old motorboat that was to be our safety net. I concluded this to be one of those oxymoronic “trusty, old” situations whereby the size and condition of the boat was not a true reflection of its reliability. So, on we go! The tour cruised us along the brown murky river lined by mangroves and marshy banks housing mounds of clutches of between 30 and 60 eggs of varying gender ratios based on the incubation temperature. We learnt all sorts of fascinating facts and figures, with the Adelaide River being home to more than 100,000 saltwater crocodiles causing a wave of fearful wide eyes and shocked gasps throughout the group. Even more fun, saltwater crocs come in much larger sizes than freshwater, with far greater aggression and risk to humans! Almost immediately after leaving the bank, we were introduced to numerous crocs, both male and female, and our guide would hang chicken carcasses off the end of a wooden stick to entice them to jump up out of the water. They would propel themselves up using their thrashing tail and for just a moment, would appear suspended in the air, jaws agape and little T-Rex arms by their side, their steel yellow eyes glaring right at you. Then SNAP! The strongest biting force of all living animals would ensue, even stronger than the pre-historic T-Rex. We were able to get up so close to these incredible animals and it was certainly an experience I will never forget.

Our daytrip then proceeded, passing by the giant Boxing Croc of Humpty Doo for an iconic photo or two (hehe), and into the Litchfield National Park. This had been recommended by a friend as a must-see and far more impressive, with far fewer tourists, than Kakadu National Park. We stopped off at Buley Rockhole for a swim in the crisp, clear freshwater pools surrounded by tropical vibrant green shrubs. We blissfully bathed in the tumbling mini waterfalls, then basked in the perfectly still natural pools tucked away in overgrown little alcoves. All the while, Will was preparing us a delicious feast of wraps with all sorts of fillings, condiments, and sauces back up in the bush. We greedily tucked in and were then kindly offered a live green tree ant for dessert! Much to our excitement, their bright green abdomens offer the perfect zesty aperitif and who wouldn’t want this flavour to, quite literally, crawl down your throat!? It seems everyone bar Anton and I… With this came a full detailed lesson on the various bushtucker in the area from the Kakadu plum for Vitamin C deficiency, to the Emu bush with antimicrobial properties of equal strength to commercial products, to the Witchetty (Witjuti) grub for sealing wounds. All of which might innocently reside next to one of the 1000 toxic Australian plant species smugly awaiting its next victim.

On that happy note, Will rushed us off to the impressive, tall Florence Falls; a gushing waterfall in the middle of this dry sandstone plateau. It empties its content into a magical clear plungepool in the heart of a monsoon forest. Quick word of warning- going underneath the waterfall itself is not the exhilarating fun experience you imagine but actually rather painful and can result in the swallowing of many litres of water.

The final waterfall of the visit was Wangi Falls; the most calm, open, and serene of the three. This area was blocked off from swimming since a recent rain surge had opened up the risk of a croc entering the area, and in fact I think it looked all the better for it. No screaming (or drowning) kids, no plastic noodles left behind, and most importantly, no human remains from a croc attack. So, a win-win!

En route back towards Darwin, Will enthusiastically insisted we must stop at a termite mound; a sight that apparently could not be missed. I know, not the most inviting of stops. Unconvinced, but all the more too shy to disagree, we all awoke from our fragmented slumber and stumbled off the bus into the heat and sun once more. What stood before us surprised us all. Much taller and larger than we expected, its magnificence towered over us and we stared up, jaws agape. Will on the other hand, stood hands on hips, eyebrows raised with a proud smirk on his face that practically screamed “what did I say matey, too tired and sleepy for this guy!?”. What followed was a rather hilarious human carousel of photo posing with various permutations of people and combinations of poses. Using first-class techniques of imagery tomfoolery, painful scenes of pretending to hold, punch, and even bite the termite mound unfolded. I am proud to say Anton and I stood by the classic, old-fashioned bare of the teeth, only veering off slightly with a “whoaahhh” shocked face. It’s a winner.

After a few more hours on the road, we finally returned to our hostel, sun beaten and hungry for a shower and some dinner. But first, a jump in the (for once inviting) hostel pool, some races of various swimming strokes including a rather embarrassing defeat of DN2 by DN1 with the artful doggy paddle, and a few tricks with the inflatable ball of course. Later, we enjoyed our final dinner, feasting on a mix of halloumi, falafel, red pepper (capsicum, sorry) hummus, and a cucumber each. As per usual, a mango followed, and we relaxed chatting and playing cards as the sun came down and warm heat soothed our muscles. Anton said his goodbyes at 11pm to catch his 1am flight (CRAZY hour I know), and I slept on a little longer before getting a lift to the airport at 4am with two nice miner twins we had befriended.

And so concludes our incredible Darwin trip. Till next time xx

P.S. Many thanks go to Alice, daughter of Leonore and D’Arcy Stratford, for her excellent recommendations on Darwin highlights!