Twin Falls, Curry and Night Flights

Our pre-dawn wake-up call and a rushed breakfast left everyone a little shell-shocked and on the quiet side. Nobody was nearly as subdued as Marten and Amelia though, who had unfortunately slept in and were very near to missing the truck. Debden had promised us the previous evening that he would be quite happy to leave anyone there for a lazy morning round the camp (the truck would be returning the same way en route to Darwin so they could have jumped in then)…but this hadn't been the Swedes' intention - they had genuinely slept in. Without even a breakfast in their bellies, it was going to be a long morning for those two.

The journey to Twin Falls was every bit as 'interesting' as the bumpy ride to Jim Jim the previous day…but this time, we were driving in near darkness and Debden's skills were even more severely tested. Later, once the sun had come up, we even had to ford a river that would, no doubt, contain crocodiles.

Naturally, he was unfazed by this and seemed eager to get to our destination as quickly as possible - as he later let on, it had been over 4 years since he'd had a group that was willing to undertake the hike (most preferring a lie-in and a gentler morning, before boarding the boat that ferries travellers from the croc-prone creek to the safety zone above the first falls). I could see how much this state of affairs pained him so it felt good to allow him to join the fray once again.

Morning sun catching the rocks on the Twin Falls plateau

Looking back across the National Park towards Nourlangie (straight between the two escarpments)

The hike was pretty rough: a lot of unstable boulders and overhanging brush, combined with the steep ascent and the growing heat of the sun to give us all a healthy glow by the time we reached the top. The views down into the gorge were spectacular and there were some picturesque little pools and rock formations up on the plateau, although I didn't feel inclined to take a swim, preferring instead to lean back in a natural rock seat, enjoying the views, the sound of tumbling water and the otherwise peaceful surroundings. When the rest of the gang came back, I got someone to take a photo of me standing on a rock spire that had started to cleave away from the rest of the cliff top. Sometime in the next hundred years, it was clearly going to tumble down into the gorge, to be pounded into tiny pieces and returned to the ocean to form new strata and, eventually, new rocks. As soon as my photo had been snapped, I realised that the little hop onto the spire had now become a slightly more formidable leap back up onto the cliff face. Before I had time to panic about it, I simply threw myself up and forward, deliberately landing on my knee in ungainly fashion, rather than trying to make the hero-leap to land on my feet. One slip on that jump would, at the least, have led to a scary scrabble to drag myself up or, at worst, an unpleasant plunge into the crack between spire and cliff-face, probably ending in my being jammed in the gap or, worse, serious injury. Debden and I exchanged a look that said "Phew!" and he was quick to suggest that nobody else should be trying to get the same photo.

Debden leads the way across the dried-up falls

Imagine the force and volume of water that carves this up...

Beautiful tones and silhouettes

Tom, Nengs, Lieke, Inge and Jasmin peering over the edge of Twin Falls

The rock spire

Foolhardy chap sits on rock spire...

The hike back down was a lot warmer and it was a relief to get into the shady recesses of the gorge, where we boarded the ferry boat for the short trip up the sun-dappled water. Our boat guide pointed out various signs of animal life, including croc- tracks and freshwater turtle signs. He directed our attention to some rather large fish and made a joke that my brother, Don, would have been proud of. He was explaining the habits of the barramundi - a fish that changes sex halfway through its lifecycle and lives in both salt and fresh water. The Aussies have a habit of shortening the names of all people / things and the barramundi is often referred to just as 'barra'. He explained that there are seven varieties of barra: barramundi, barrtuesday, barrawed…. :-D which drew a wry smile and a chuckle from most of us.

Once disembarked from the boat, we trekked through more bouldery scenery and out onto a floating walkway, which only resided in the water during the dry season - being broken into parts and helicoptered out onto the plateau during the rains. The Twin Falls had a little more water flowing than Jim Jim had the previous day and there was the same sandy beach and large swimming hole, although again, I chose to find somewhere peaceful to sit and contemplate the gorgeous honey-toned rock and enjoy the serenity and sense of ancient mystery.

Are we all clear on this?

Inviting but deadly Twin Falls Creek 

Twin Falls

We returned to the truck and crossed back over the river before enjoying our final meal before the marathon journey back to Darwin. We were at our furthest distance from the city, in the very heart of Kakadu N.P. and there were over 100km of unsealed roads and as much again on tarmac to negotiate before getting back in to the city. I had a busy evening ahead of me (laundry, packing, flights) so decided to get a little shut-eye on the way back. We stopped a couple of times for toilet and drink breaks and rocked back up on Mitchell Street just after 6:00pm. 

I spent a couple of useful hours washing clothes and repacking my bags in preparation for my flight to Queensland. A helpful European-sounding chap kindly watched my bag while I went off to get a shower. After freshening up, I went with my bags to the shuttle bus terminal and bumped into my erstwhile friend again there, where I discovered that we were both going to be heading to the airport at the same time at 11:15. There was an easy rapport between us and, on the spur of the moment, we agreed to go for a meal together and have a few drinks. It wasn't like breaking into a group of people drinking at a bar and it allowed for the pleasure of some company whilst eating and drinking - usually preferable to eating alone. I had had a growing curry urge throughout my trip to Kakadu (don't ask me why!) and I enjoyed a delicious Chicken Malabar with garlic naan, at Garam Masala on Mitchell Street. Michael was from Germany and was returning to Australia for some work and travel, having travelled here previously back in 2008. He was going to be based in Melbourne and, after a pleasant couple of hours chewing the fat, we exchanged phone numbers and agreed to catch up on my way through there in a couple of weeks time.

When I arrived at the airport, I found a frighteningly long queue to check in for Jetstar flights. I could see instantly why they'd got a name for themselves as the Ryanair of Australia, cutting corners to save money and provide a true 'no-frills' service. Eventually, after a sphincter-tightening wait, my flight was given priority for check-in and I made it through security just in time for boarding - with the added bonus that my 27kg bag (7kg overweight) was allowed through without charge  - probably because the added time involved in charging me would probably have delayed others checking in and, ultimately, the flight taking off on time.

The 3hr 40min 'hop' to Brisbane passed uneventfully, although the time alone should serve as a reminder of the sheer size of Australia. Flying from London to Istanbul (pretty much the Western to Eastern extremes of the continent of Europe) takes four hours…I was flying across less than half the width of Australia in about the same time! We landed in Brisbane at 5:30am, where I had a 6 hour wait before my flight to Hamilton Island. This, of course, left me plenty of time to catch up on blogging and connecting with the universe via the media of free wifi and Facebook.