More travel than birding for once
This trip started out as a cunning plan ™ for me to see the largest and hardest grasswren, Black Grasswren, by suggesting a dry season 4WD trip to Mitchell Falls with Erica and Louisa – the sell to them was a free trip to the Kimberley and some father daughter bonding (who am I kidding, it was all the former, none of the latter). But the further I looked into it, the trickier or more expensive – and even riskier – it seemed it would be. Not so cunning after all.
Louisa was keen to go away anywhere to get her gap-year travel kick-started, but the main drawcard for her of the Kimberley was insta images of wild, private waterfalls and infinity pools. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that I would need to arrange a Black Grasswren expedition some other way. Instead, a trip with the girls to the NT, taking in some of the touristy spots in Kakadu, Litchfield and Nitmiluk National Parks would deliver the experience that Louisa wanted much more effectively, easily and cheaply. It could not be a birding trip, but perhaps I’d be able to sneak in some cheeky birding for the few species Paul and I had dipped on in 2020 (3-part blog post starts here)
We timed the trip to coincide with Erica’s between-term holidays in May, the early part of the dry season in NT. She flew direct from Sydney and stayed overnight in Darwin. Meanwhile Lou and I got a super-early Jetstar flight the next day from Adelaide, and after picking up our rental car – a very comfortable RAV4 Hybrid – we rendezvoused with Eri for a coffee and some breakfast at the highly recommended Ray’s Café. After a quick spin around next-door Coles for supplies we drove to East Point for a view of the city and the Timor Sea, then we were off on our way to Kakadu some 280km away.
Where the Arnhem Hwy crosses the Adelaide River we pulled into an unpromising area west of the bridge. One of the few dips from my dedicated birding trip up here with Paul Coddington in 2020 was Mangrove Golden Whistler. Regular sightings at this spot gave me hope that I could claw the dip back in a short recce without stretching the girls’ patience too much. Sadly it was not to be. I listened out, and tried some playback for MGW but heard nothing. Maybe I wasn’t in the right place? As I found out later, I was in exactly the right spot; just unlucky or impatient, or both. Or maybe the birds knew this was not a birding trip?
We arrived late afternoon at Cahill’s Crossing, a ford across the East Alligator River from Kakadu to West Arnhem. Two years ago Paul and I had enjoyed the spectacle of dozens of crocodiles lined up across the river like a game of Frogger (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frogger). They congregrate here during the dry season in the hope of snagging an easy meal of barramundi as the incoming tide rushes over the ford, and I’d been confident enough to promise Louisa her first crocs at this spot. But it turned out I had two timing elements wrong: first, the greatest concentrations of crocs happen only at the end of dry season when many billabongs and croc habitat have dried up; and second, we had arrived at low tide – instead of crocs we saw several fisherman, some of whom were even brave or foolish enough to be partway across the ford. They were either hoping to snag their own barra, or perhaps in training for the competition made made famous by Monty Python: the Men’s Being Eaten By a Crocodile Event (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8T7KWV73N3s). I hoped they knew what they were doing.
Following our croc dip at Cahill’s Crossing we drove the few km remaining to Ubirr Rock. A brisk walk brought us to a ledge with a spectacular and rather photogenic view over the East Alligator River flood-plain. It was easy to see why this place held (and still holds) such spiritual significance for the traditional owners who have been coming here for millennia. Sunset at Ubirr is one of the iconic, touristy things to do, and there were lots of people up here also enjoying the view and experience, but it’s such a big place that it was easy to take obligatory photos and selfies making it look like we had the place to ourselves.
As the sun slowly sank to the horizon I was alerted to a low coo-ing, and was able to track down a few fabulous (and occasionally tricky-to-see) Chestnut-quilled Rock-pigeon, thus serendipitously combining being a tourist and a birder (despite this not being a birding trip)
In Jabiru it seemed like every grey nomad visiting Kakadu had turned out at Anbinik Thai, the only restaurant in town. We grabbed literally the last table and ordered our food, which when it came (eventually!) was decent, but not as good as I’d remembered from 2 years ago. For our first night’s accommodation I’d booked a Bush Bungalow – a tented structure with a double bed and two bunks – at the “resort” behind the restaurant and this proved ideal: not many mod-cons, but cheap, comfortable and atmospheric, giving our first night a “safari” feel.
Because this was definitely not a birding trip (I was reminded regularly), we had a leisurely rise in the morning – most un-birding-trip-like – and drove to Nourlangie Rock, another of the famous rocky outcrops in this eastern part of Kakadu. We walked the standard tourist trail under the impressive outcrop and admired the iconic rock art. A big tourist group managed to get in the way of us enjoying it peacefully, but it was still a fabulous place to visit. I also secretly hoped for better views and pics of Banded Pigeon than in 2020, but I could not allow this to dictate where we walked and I failed to hear one in the forest below the rock in the brief moments before our serenity was interrupted by the tour group.
It is just a short hop of a few km from Nourlangie to Anbanbang Billabong. There was barely any visible water at the billabong: not I think, because it was dry, but because it was covered in floating vegetation, but this meant there was little wildlife easily seen. The trails around the perimeter were ominously closed off with “Danger, Crocodiles in this area” signs, which gave the girls the jitters. We ate our sandwiches at the picnic table, Erica checking regularly under our feet just in case a 4m croc had magically materialised, but they were keen not to linger. So we vacated the croc-infested area and drove a short way to the other side of the billabong where there is a small carpark at the base of Nawurlanga Lookout. It was now very hot but we decided to walk up to the lookout anyway, and we were glad we did. The view back to Nourlangie was superb and on the way down a Short-eared Rock Wallaby gave us brief views.
At Cooinda we pitched our tents and then relaxed by the rather nice pool at the resort, another activity that would be unthinkable on a dedicated birding. A very beautiful young family were playing in the shallow toddler pool and at one point the oldest child, maybe about 8 or 9 pointed behind our sun loungers: “Look Daddy, there’s a snake!”. Her tanned, very fit looking dad walked over next to where I was lying reading (and I unsuccessfully tried to disguise the contrast with my pale, middle-aged flab), and I turned to look behind me, where a gorgeous tree snake slithered quickly across the ground and up into a palm directly behind us. Later, Erica – who perhaps had paid too much attention to the buff dad – said: “I think I recognise him. I think he’s a footballer”. “Yeah, right”. But she went into detective (or is that stalker) mode and pulled up an Instagram picture of Mark Lecras, retired West Coast Eagles star, that showed he was touring around the NT. It turned out that they had camped only 50m from our tents.
After a cracking dinner at the bistro and a drink or two, it was still very early so we did a short “night drive” out to Mardugal Campground next to Jim Jim Creek, hoping to see some mammals on the road or maybe a nightjar or owl. A few Plumed Whistling Ducks on the boat ramp was all we saw. Ironically, back at Cooinda while the girls were in the shower I saw a Dingo strutting unconcerned through the campsite, and then I followed a Large-tailed Nightjar around the tents, seeing it in flight several times. I was unable to get a photo, before I decided to get some shut-eye before a proper “birding start” to the following day.
An early start was necessary to connect with the dawn cruise on the Yellow Waters Billabong. Sunrise, with the mist in strands across the still water and surrounding meadows is the best time to experience this famous trip. I was secretly hoping it would yield another of my serial dips from 2020 and 2021, Great-billed Heron, and I was gripped off to learn that the tour guide had had a Great-billed Heron at the Mardugal boat-ramp two nights ago, right where we had been late last night. As well as the beautiful scenery, and excellent birds (Azure Kingfisher, White-bellied Sea-eagle, Brolgas egrets, herons and Comb-crested Jacana) the undoubted highlight of the trip for the girls – especially Louisa – was the close encounters with several big crocs. One on the bank gave a nice close performance showing its impressive set of gnashers, and another, wafting its tail back and forth, drifted effortlessly alongside the boat.
The 4WD road to Jim Jim Falls was still closed this early in the season, so I did not have to deal with the dilemma of whether or not to risk the rental RAV4 on the rough track. Instead we asked at the Cooinda shop if there were any waterfalls open (mindful that the other famous falls, Gunlom, has been closed since 2019 because a dispute between Parks and Wildlife Dept and the traditional owners). They suggested Motorcar Falls, on the road to Gunlom. I’d never heard of it, but we would give it a try on our way to Pine Creek.
We arrived at a small car-park in the heat of the day. There were a few cars here – perhaps a sign the spot is worth a visit? – but we could not tell where the car owners were, and the noticeboards described two spots: Boulder Creek, about 1km away, and another nearly 4km away, or getting on for an hour’s hike in the heat. Do we risk it? We decided to walk to Boulder Creek, the closer of the spots. As we approached through dry savannah the vegetation changed to a small patch of denser wet forest (and I was hopeful of Banded Pigeon) but we scrambled up some rocks and though we found a small cascade there was nowhere we could swim and it was all a bit of a let down.
Having come this far, I tried to persuade the girls – Louisa especially – that maybe we should carry on walking to the far spot, another 3km, just in case. What else would we do after all? Grudgingly, hot-and-bothered, they came along. Not far along the trail, and still in two minds about this being a good idea or not, we bumped into a couple heading back towards the carpark. They explained we still had a long way to walk, but enthused about the destination – it was most definitely worth the walk, but did we have our bathers? Fortunately we did, and this conversation was just the spur needed to keep us going for the next 45 minutes along a dry, dusty trail through scraggy, burnt savannah, dead leaves on sparse, thin trunks providing barely any shade.
After a few km the trail turned to head up towards the escarpment and the sparse, burnt trees gave way to lusher monsoon forest, before opening up to a gorgeous pool, surrounded by rich greenery. The couple from earlier had told us to keep going past this pool, so we clambered over several large boulders following the sound of falling water, to emerge at an exquisite plunge pool, like an image from a tourist brochure. After a 4km walk in 34deg heat we stripped off immediately and jumped into the cooling waters.
There were a few other people here including a couple of groups we recognised from the cruise earlier in the morning. We stayed for an hour or more, occasionally dropping into the water to cool off, or swim over to immerse ourselves under the falls. It had definitely been worth the walk, and delivered the other target of the trip as far as Louisa was concerned (crocs in the morning having been the first target) – the only trouble was, we now had to do the return walk, with no swimming hole at the end! I didn’t even have any drinking water left. I approached three young blokes who’d sat near us on the cruise this morning. They recognised me too: Chap 1: ”Ah, you’re the guy from the bird-watching trip this morning. Chap 2: ”With the big camera”. Chap 3: ”And the knowledge”. 😉
Late afternoon, as I set my tent in the caravan park behind the Lazy Lizard Tavern in Pine Creek, a few rare and beautiful Hooded Parrots arrived in the trees above our heads. The girls were not as impressed as I thought they should be, but they did enjoy the rustic charm of the western-themed tavern where we enjoyed some cold beer and pizza for dinner.
We reverted to non-birding wake-up time the next morning, and grabbed some breakfast at Mayse’s Café. We had now pivoted into full-on waterfall mode, and next on our itinerary was Edith Falls where we arrived late morning. Initially we swam in the large, fairly civilised pool at the base of the falls, but then suitably refreshed decided to walk the Leliyn Trail in the heat of the day, a steep track to the upper falls. From the track above the upper falls you look down on a series of inviting pools, fed by a cascade a few metres high. Only a few other people had braved the strenuous walk, so we all lazed about in the cool waters surrounded by red-gold rocks in relative solitude. Carrying on even further upstream we reached Long Hole Pool, which we had entirely to ourselves. We even bumped into a superb Gouldian Finch en route, close enough that the girls could see its stunning colours even without binoculars!
The campsite at Edith Falls was fairly busy, but more than big enough to accommodate all the campers, and it was a shame that our compressed itinerary did not allow us to stay any longer or to check out Katherine Gorge or any of the walks along the cliff-tops. Instead, fairly early the next morning we were packed up and heading north to Litchfield NP, famous for guess what: waterfalls and plunge pools!
There is really only one main road through Litchfield and it’s closer to Darwin than Kakadu, so the tourist trail is fairly well worn and most places we went were rather busier than anywhere else. This is all relative of course – it was nothing like the beach at Bournemouth on a sunny day!
We took in the amazing termite mounds, then drove on to our first main destination, Buley Rock Holes. Almost no spots in the car-park was a sign it would be much busier in Litchfield than we’d become accustomed. We took a quick look and decided to return in a while, having checked out Florence Falls, just another km along the same access road. Louisa had read the bumph and reassured us that it was “only 160 steps” to the falls from the car-park. The walk to the base of the falls sloped down to a viewpoint over the falls, a forceful 15m cascade into a beautiful plunge pool, where we paused for photos. It then carries on to 160 stairs (not steps, Lou!) down to the base so a bit more strenuous than we’d imagined – in fact too strenuous for one chap who was lying on the ground receiving CPR as we arrived, and was later taken away on a stretcher by ambos.
Although there were more people swimming here than any of the other places we’d been, it was still a magic, beautiful place and we were glad once again we’d brought bathers and could glide over and sit under the rushing water of the falls. Later, when we’d scaled the 160 stairs back to the car we returned to Buley Rock Holes and swam here too, sitting in several of the natural spa pools that form a chain down the valley.
Tolmer Falls Lookout provided a superb view to the biggest of the falls here, where the tabletop runoff has sliced through the escarpment forming a natural bridge before tumbling down 100m into a steep gorge. National Parks burnoffs – which happen a lot at this time of year – were unfortunately creating a haze over the area and somewhat disturbing the view and photos. We returned the next day when the air was clearer to enjoy the view a final time.
Our final destination for the day was Wangi Falls, where there is a decent campsite. This was another very scenic spot, where a double waterfall plunges to a wide, deep pool. Unfortunately there was no swimming here, and we saw the reason why as we walked round the lake: nestling in the reeds by the bank was a crocodile trap (if you look carefully you can just see it to the right of the falls in the picture below). This is one of the pools that salties have access to in the wet season, and at the end of the season Parks and Wildlife go around to all the popular swimming holes to make sure they are croc free – it was a work in progress at Wangi. Not only was there no swimming, but the most popular walk here, a loop of 4km to the top of the falls and across the plateau was also closed: not for crocs but for a controlled fuel reduction burn.
A few cute wallabies were hanging around our tents late afternoon. We made veggie tacos with cauliflower on the campsite barbecue for dinner — an inspired idea from the girls that needed minimal cutlery or crockery! A constant smell of smoke hung in the air, and as it grew darker we could see the flames which seemed ominously close. I was reminded that some of my birding friends have referred to the NT Parks and Wildlife as “Sparks and Wildfires”. We didn’t really have a choice but to assume/hope that, like the fishermen at Cahill’s Crossing, they knew what they were doing. I heard and saw a few Stone Curlew on the walk back to the tents after dark, but I was unable to get a picture.
I persuaded the girls that we should walk early the next morning to Tjaetaba Falls, aiming to avoid the crowds we’d seen at Buley and Florence yesterday. I did have a birding agenda in pushing for this also: the area around Greenant Creek seemed to be my only chance for Australia’s rarest raptor, Red Goshawk. There are other more reliable spots in Litchfield, but they were impossible for me to access because the 4WD tracks were not yet open. Like my other targets, The Gos seemed to know it was not a birding trip and stayed unseen.
Louisa, whose back was playing up a bit, was at first reluctant at the thought of an uphill trek of 1.5km, but we managed to twist her arm and we were all very grateful that we did. Initially the walk is alongside Greenant Creek through monsoon forest for 400m or so before rising up through savannah woodland for the remaining km. In the cool of the morning it was not too difficult and well worth it. The view of the falls themselves from a small lookout just below was not so great, obscured by overhanging trees, but the trail carries on to the top of the falls where there are a couple of small, clear, stunning pools before the stream plunges over the “infinity edge”. An older couple was already here, but left within minutes leaving us with the place to ourselves.
I grabbed obligatory photos of the girls enjoying their private tropical infinity pool, but nearly didn’t get to keep the photos. I swam across the pool for a slightly different view and placed my phone on a rock ledge as I hauled myself out. “Dad!” cried Eri: “Your phone!!!”. It had slid down the rock face and plunged to the bottom of the surprisingly deep pool. Shit! At least the water was clear, but the base was black, exactly the same colour as my phone. I duck-dived down 3m to feel around on the floor, almost at my depth limit, but bursting for air had to come back empty-handed, already thinking this was going to be impossible. “I’ll have ago, Dad” said Eri and she proceeded to dive down to where she’d seen it drop. It didn’t look to me as if she’d gone deep enough when she too, needed to come up for air. First to emerge was her hand, triumphantly clutching my phone as if she was the lady of the lake brandishing Excalibur. Huge relief — but had it been destroyed by spending more than a minute in 3m of water? Amazingly it was still ok, other than a screen message saying there was moisture in the charging port!
We returned to Tolmer Falls for another look without smoke this time, then began the drive north back to Darwin for our final night. Berry Springs is another beautiful and popular swimming spot, and worth a detour for our picnic lunch. It was still closed for swimming because of crocs, but I did manage a nice encounter with a Rainbow Pitta (but it was not a birding trip).
We arrived back in Darwin mid-afternoon. I offered the girls the chance to shower, chill and relax by the pool in relative comfort at our city-centre hotel. I, though, had a secret agenda: while they relaxed, I left them for the first time in the week and drove out to the Osterman Mangrove trail for a final crack at Mangrove Golden Whistler. I walked quickly along the narrow trail through the mangroves to the mudflats then skirted south along the edge of the mangroves to a spot where Paul and I had heard one two years earlier. Once again MGW proved elusive. A pair of White-breasted Whistler was very interested in my playback and I became distracted by trying to get a photo of one, just so I would have something to show for my trip. Facing the mangroves, my back to the mudflats, I failed to register the source and significance of a faint rushing sound behind me. When I finally gave up on MGW and photos of WBW, I turned to see that what had been mudflats only 20 minutes earlier was now the Timor Sea, fast approaching! A surge of panic rose — I could easily get cut off and lost here in croc infested waters — so I calmed myself down and dashed as quickly as I could back in the direction I’d come. With water now covering much of the area that had been dry when I arrived 45 minutes ago it all looked very different. I recognised a creek that I had stepped across earlier, but it was now a fast-flowing channel 4-5 metres wide. I had no choice — this was the only way back I knew of. I lifted my electronics and optics above my head and ran across, luckily navigating a path that turned out to be only thigh-deep. I got soaked, but my valuables escaped. Another leap and rush over a creek that had not existed earlier, and luckily I came to a spot I recognised as the entrance to the trail through the mangroves. I arrived back at the hotel stinking of mud, very damp and rather chastened. Maybe this was karma for going birding on not-a-birding-trip trip.
We ended the trip with a sunset on Mindil Beach (all set up for Splendour in the Grass in two days’ time), a few drinks in a bar on Mitchell St and a very good Thai meal. Although I had failed to connect with any of my three birding targets (MGW, Great-billed Heron, Red Goshawk) the trip had delivered in spades for the girls and created some amazing memories and quintessential instagram pics.
