Darwin and the Top End of Australia. 35 degrees in the shade, and did I mention it was hot?

At two am we stepped off the plane and into the heat of the colloquially named Top End of Australia. Even in the darkest night it was ten degrees hotter than the daytime heat of Brisbane, and the starry sky and quiet road on the way to our campground made us feel like we were already in the middle of the outback. In the light of day Darwin looked like a regular town, small in population but sprawling into the scrub surroundings. We went to the visitor centre to figure out the best itinerary for our limited time, then picked up groceries for a fortnight in the outback. After that we gave in to the protests of the kids and went to the wave pool at the edge of the ocean instead of sightseeing further. The heat was such that we didn't feel up to anything more taxing anyays, so instead bobbed up and down on the waves all afternoon - at least the kids and Paul did, as I felt seasick pretty soon after riding the swells in the blue inflatable rings and boogy boards provided.

  

When the sun started to approach the horizon we headed to Minhil Beach for the evening market, held only in the dry season from May to October. Despite the heat no one was in the water because of the constant threat of killer box jellyfish, not to mention the estuarine crocodiles (or salties for short) and sharks. Paul and I watched the sun dip into the ocean while the kids did cartwheels on the beach,

then we chose from the plethora of street food stalls and ate dinner (laksa for Paul and I, Dutch mini pancakes with ice cream and fruit for the kids) while watching buskers perform.

In the morning we set off in our compact rental hatchback, packed to the brim 

and even smaller than our East Coast rental - and certainly less impressive than the Northern Territory's monster trucks.  Our first stop, and first real encounter with the threat of salties, was Fogg Dam, a long road with a series of lookouts onto wetlands rich in bird species, with regular signs warning visitors not to walk along the road due to the presence of crocs. We all felt pretty nervous and would park right across from the protected viewing bays so we didn't have to venture near the banks a minute longer than necessary.

We were mostly glad we didn't see any crocodiles since the area felt so exposed. Instead we saw waterlilies and plenty of avian life, like the Jabiru stork,

and found a safer trail meandering through the monsoon forest.

We were greeted at that evening's stop, the Mary River Wilderness Retreat, by wallabies aplenty. They were all around the pathways and grazed outside our tent,

but quickly sprang away whenever we drew near. Though we were camping, the setting felt luxurious due to the green all around us, the pink and red blossoms on the trees, and the quiet pool, essential for cooling off.

In the morning we drove into Kakadu, Australia's largest national park. It was hot and dry, beautiful and vast. Since we were travelling during the end of The Dry (most sane people don't venture to the Top End after September due to the intense heat) we often had trails to ourselves, reinforcing the feeling of being in the wilderness. Our first stop in the park was the Mamukala Wetland, dried to a fraction of its wet season growth. We didn't feel as if we were in a wetland as we walked along the trail, keeping an eye out for crocs and dingos,

but when we reached the bird hide shelter, the much reduced billabong meant the magpie geese, whistling ducks, egrets and herons were concentrated in large numbers and mingled in the thousands with the water lilies. 

After we set up our camp and ate dinner at 5 (our national park campground had no lights so we wanted to get dinner ready before it was pitch dark), we scrambled up the rocks to the lookout at Ubirr just in time to miss the sunset. On the plus side, it meant that everyone else was on their way down so except for the park rangers we were alone to experience the majestic surroundings. 

It's hard to capture in a photo the magnitude of the expanse, 

but we were all stunned by the vastness and decided to return the next night and experience the sunset for real,

as well as the rock art painted in ochre and white thousands of years ago in the cave shelters ar the base of the stone cliffs. The paintings were astounding in their details, and many were xray depictions, showing scientifically precise placement of organs and bones of barramundi and turtles.

In the morning we took a cultural riverboat tour along the East Alligator River, 

a misnomer as there are no alligators in Australia, only crocodiles, whose presence we were warned of by frequent signage, 

and who we got to see up close and personal when our guide, Neville, steered the boat close to the riverbank.

I kept a tight hold on Tom the whole time. We played count the crocodiles but stopped counting at around 80.

Neville, an aborigine who has lived his whole life on the land, he took us for a brief stop into Arnhem Land, a remote section of the park belonging to the aboriginals and only accessible with a special permit.

There he told us about spear making 

and demonstrated an Olympic worthy javelin throw he used in traditional hunting, which could easily have skewered a goose had one been where his spear landed on the other side of the river, a considerable distance away.

He also told us about some traditional aboriginal uses of the land, pointing out the paperbark tree whose bark was used for everything from swaddling babies (he himself had been swaddled in it) to cooking food to forming a cup to drink the water that could be tapped from boluses (boli?) in its trunk.

Displays at the park's visitor centre we stopped at the next day outlined the important role of bush fires in the country, started by aboriginals and park managers early in the season when the fires have a rejuvenating rather than catastrophic effect. 

The climate of the north is incredibly harsh, with road signs alternating between flood warnings with water level indicators up to 1.5 meters above the road surface and fire alerts whose needles pointed to the current level of danger - the lowest on the scale was "moderately high" and "catastrophic" was the highest. We encountered a fire up close, with flames burning next to the road as we passed and huge billows of smoke filling the sky about 20 km from our campsite - we hoped a ranger would come and evacuate us and the other campers if there was any danger of it spreading. It really felt like Mad Max country.

After two nights in the west end of the park, we ventured into the centre and camped at the Cooinda Lodge where a large pool cooled us after and before our wanderings.  By the evenings the only way to cool off before we retired to the tent  was to shower or swim, though the heat would almost instantly return as the blessed cool of the water evaporated quickly away. Sleeping in the tent was hot for the first several hours each night. The ground would have been baking in the sun all day and we could feel the heat radiating up through the floor of our tent as we laid as still as possible and tried not to have any warming skin contact other - tricky when you have five people in a three person tent. By 1 or 2 am it would be cool and one or more of us would often wake at that time, glad for the break from the heat, and gaze up at the star filled skies through the screen of our tent. 

Because of the heat we camped without a fly, but with many actual flies. Other tourists had hats with mesh nets that they pulled down over their faces, but we had made no such preparations, and our natural insect propellant was naturally ineffective (though at least not carcinogenic!) so we had to endure the constant buzzing. We tried to maintain a positive attitude and remember that flies played a vital role in the ecosystem, but chiefly coped by constant swatting alternating with cursing.

Though we have big plans for multiday hikes during the rest of our travels, we scaled way back and limited ourselves to hikes no longer than 3 km, and even that felt like it was pushing it - the sun and heat were just too brutal. Despite my complaints, the rewards of the area were many. One walk took us to the top of the Nourlangie lookout in the central region of the park.

We again marvelled at the peace and quiet, and the tremendous landscape around us.

We had enjoyed our boat tour on the East Alligator so much that we decided to do another one called the Yellow Water cruise. This one began at 6:45 in the morning, with the mists rising off of the wetlands

and the surface of the river glassy, mirroring the trees on its banks,

pink waterlilies providing a contrast to the green of the trees and the blue of the water.

The area was teeming with birds, like the great billed heron, Australia's largest heron, sought after by birders from around the world,

and of course crocodiles, wallowing in the mud,

and resting on the banks,

some with jaws agape to release heat.

We also passed them as they swam alongside us in the water.  

Earlier the captain had shown us the life jackets in case of emergency, but none of us wanted to think about our chances bobbing around in the river in that event (but don't worry mom, he said if the boat got a leak he'd run us at high speed into the bank before we had a chance to sink).

We were grateful to be able to have done the boat trips as they were the only way to see the rivers where growth was lush and green - when on foot in Kakadu we didn't go anywhere near the rivers or their banks. Swimming with crocodiles was what we would do in our next stop... stay tuned!