Darwin: The Top End of Australia

I'm sitting on the small veranda attached to our cabin as we cross the Timor Sea headed toward the Indian Ocean to Indonesia, specifically Komodo Island, our first Indonesian stop.  After that Lombok, and then Bali.

We have left Australia, most likely never to return, not for lack of desire but for lack of time.  It remains impossibly far away and we only have so many very long trips left in us.  Australia is vast and remote, with a history as varied and checkered as our own.   Having only visited Sydney in the past, I am thrilled that we have had a chance to visit more--though still a minuscule part--of this fascinating country/continent.  Even we, the great United States, cannot lay claim to an entire continent.  The Australians, like the Americans, are a proud people, and they can't imagine living anywhere else--although they, like us, love to travel and explore the rest of the world.  They, like us, return home at the end of their travels convinced they live in the most perfect and beautiful land on earth.  All this is as it should be.

We traveled up most of the east coast of Australia--Sydney lies on the southeast coast--from New South Wales to the Northern Territory along the delightfully named Top End.  Our guide yesterday referred to her home as in the Top End the same way we would refer to Dallas as Big D, but I think it has a greater significance.  In the Crocosaurus Cove Aquarium in Darwin the other day I noticed that many of the lizard and snake species were referred to as Top End Goannas or Top End pythons and so I gather it is more than just a friendly nickname.  I haven't looked it up.

The view from the ship approaching Darwin.

Part of Darwin Harbor--three times the size of Sydney Harbor, although the city is only about 150,000 compared to Sydney's four million plus.  Charles Darwin himself never set foot here--it was named Darwin by one John Stokes who had been a shipmate of the famous British evolutionist and was so impressed by him that when he sailed into this heretofore unnamed northern territory he named it Darwin Harbor, which later became the name of the town as well.  Darwin is a pretty town with a lovely shoreline and a few impressive office buildings and condos and given cooler weather we would have whiled away a whole day in the parks and pubs.

But the heat was oppressive and we don't seem to handle it like we used to.  We shuttled into town, stopped in the Visitor's Center and with map in hand walked ("just around the corner and up a few blocks") to the Crocosaurus Cove to visit a few local crocs. It seemed to take forever to get there. At the cove, there were several large tanks with enormous lazy crocs swimming languidly about and a huge area with the huge variety of Australian snakes, lizards and other creepy crawlies.

But the main attraction there is "swimming with the crocs" where for a fee you can be lowered in a glass cage directly into the croc tank to see him up close and personal.  That held no allure for Tom and I, but a young couple in bathing suits and snorkel tubes were eyeball to eyeball with the croc who had no interest in them.  Ho hum, how boring, he seemed to say.

The next day we were scheduled to go with a Seabourn group to see real crocs in the wild, a much more satisfying prospect.  We drove for about an hour along the sprawling Darwin Harbor stopping for photo ops and listening to a running commentary by our knowledgeable guide Chris who told us about Darwin's significant role in WWII when Japanese airplanes invaded from the North and bombed the city extensively.  The aircraft carrier USS Lexicon was sunk nearby and only recently discovered after 76 years, 500 miles North resting in the Coral Sea.  

Before arriving at the site of the "jumping crocs" we were treated to a beer or soft drink at the Humpty Doo Hotel, your basic country dive in the middle of nowhere (the little town is actually called Humpty Doo).  It was 10 AM and the bar was already doing a brisk business which gives you an idea of the drinking culture in Australia.  Of course, when in Rome... 

The modest hotel sign.  There were a few others on the risque side to say the least, but I will spare you.  Bar humor I suppose...

We were afraid the hour long cruise on the Adelaide River to see "jumping crocodiles" would be hot and touristy, but we loved it.  The attraction is staffed completely by smart and knowledgeable young women who take 40 or so people out on a covered pontoon boat and talk about their beloved crocs who swim lazily here and there in a muddy but beautiful tropical river coming alive only when the boat approaches and one of the guides leans out over the edge with a couple of pounds of raw buffalo meat as bait.  The idea is to get the crocs to leap out of the river in quest of the bait, but the guide said that in truth they have to be highly motivated to jump clear into the air and they seldom do it.  Still, it was exciting to watch them swim to the boat on cue and snap at the bait which the guide would them pull out of reach and dangle on the other side.  Eventually, maybe out of frustration--although the guide assured us that they were not teasing the crocs but rather appealing to their vicious and predatory natures--the croc would leap into the air, his jaws snapping wildly at the bait and one could only imagine with dread what would happen if that were your arm.  Crocs are among the most vicious predators known to man and we were warned clearly not to lean over the side of the boat or to reach out to take a  picture.  For every croc that is on the surface, five more lurk just below visibility and will do the death defying leap if they see something that they perceive as prey.  According to the guide, no tourists have been lost in recent memory.

The guides had names for all the crocs and in response to the obvious question, they told us that it only takes a week or two to start telling the difference one from the other.  The guide said that they had names for and recognized about thirty of the crocs although there are hundreds more in the area who remain nameless.  I think this one was named Stumpy.  Or maybe this was Knuckles.

This is the best I could do on the pictures.  It's like trying to get a picture of a whale's tail in that split second of surfacing.

Along the coast with Darwin "skyline" barely visible in the distance.

One regret about leaving Australia is that we didn't get to see or learn much about the indigenous people, or Aboriginals.  The Darwin area is still 26% aboriginal and they are easily spotted on the streets.  Chris said that in general they are the Australian underclass and probably comparable in many ways to our Native Americans.  Like the Native Americans, the Aboriginals were there millennia before the white man invaded their land and have suffered ever since.  Does anybody remember the movie The Whale Rider?

And so goodbye to Australia.  I wish we could see more.