We recommend Internet Explorer set to 1024x768.

© 2002 Brian F. Schreurs
Even we have a disclaimer.

Katherine

August 3, 2001

  1822 miles       replaced spark plugs & 
                    upper radiator hose
                   overnight in Katherine

Fruit bats. Man!

Shane and I sleep in a bit, to 9:00 or so, and Coughing Towel Head Jason sleeps in to 11:00 or so. After hundreds of miles of high-speed driving, Shane figures the XJ6 is about ready for some preventive maintenance. I install a fresh set of spark plugs -- after breaking one of them off -- and we have a look at them for any signs of trouble. It does appear that the front carburetor is running a bit rich, but not so much that we feel like messing with it. Shane also replaces the chintzy flexi hose serving as an upper radiator hose with one that was intended for a Ford Falcon, and about the same time that Jason staggers out of his room we try to get the left fuel pump working, to no avail.

Since the thing to do in Katherine is to check out the Katherine Gorge, we motor out of town to the park. We make our reservations for the day at the visitor's lodge, then grab some tucker for lunch. After that, we head to the gorge itself, where we wait in line for our turn in a tour boat, along with -- we note sourly -- several XK Register members. Above us are trees full of fruit bats. Fruit bats aren't much like the little flying-mouse brown bat that I'm used to; these things are full-on Scooby-Doo-style squealing rat-sized flying fruit eaters. They look impressive, though in the middle of the day it'd be going too far to suggest that they are scary.

Katherine Gorge from the water.

Out on the water, we motor up the Gorge. This boat is much like the one we had in Kakadu, with a canopy covering a couple of dozen travellers and one guide. Katherine Gorge actually consists of 13 gorges, all created by the same river as it sliced through sandstone over millions of years. The boat tour covers the lower two gorges, where the walls are a couple of hundred feet straight up, creating an Indiana Jones setting. During the dry season, the river is fairly placid and makes for good boating; during the wet season, however, the water level rises thirty feet and rages dangerously through the crevasse.

But we're here during the dry seaon, so the water is calm and inviting -- if it weren't for the dozens of "freshies", the freshwater crocodiles, lining the edges of the river. Freshies are a lot smaller than salties -- the infamous saltwater crocodile -- and much more docile. Freshies tend to see humans more as a nuisance that must be tolerated than as a source of food; this more favorable attitude allows freshies and Aussies to co-exist in relative peace. It seems as though there is a canoe or kayak for every croc so neither species is in great danger of thinning beyond reasonable levels. Young adventurers rent the canoes and kayaks for week-long excursions upriver, paddling the entire 13 gorges and camping along the way.

A "freshie", the freshwater crocodile.

Aboriginal art, possibly older than civilization.

The miniscule helicopter that got us in the air!

At the top of the first gorge, we have to disembark and walk to the next gorge. The water between gorges is so shallow that even canoes cannot cross, though it's not so much that we are any closer to the top of the gorge as it is that the riverbed has formed a natural dam of sorts. We are certainly still well within a gorge during the transition; if the entire string of 13 gorges is like this one, then Katherine Gorge seems more likely to be one giant gorge split into 13 navigable segments.

Along the footpath between gorges, we stop to examine some Aboriginal art. No one knows how old the drawings are, who made them, or what purpose they had. They estimate the age to be thousands of years old; the drawings survived this long only because the sandstone actually absorbed the pigment of whatever ink or paint they used.

The second gorge is much like the first: tall walls, lots of water, a few freshies sunning themselves. It's a relaxing enough trip, and the gorge is really interesting, but it's also a lot more commercialized than Kakadu. By comparison, Kakadu is much more primal, more wild. While they are both well worth a visit, Katherine Gorge ought to be a visitor's first stop between the two so that it is not overshadowed by the larger park.

We decide to check out the gorge from a different perspective: above! An ex-RAAF pilot offers helicopter flights over Katherine Gorge, and it was among the reservations we'd made in the morning. We drive to his landing pad and say g'day; he takes us to his bird, which is a TINY four-seat helicopter with no doors. Since I have the telephoto camera, they give me the shotgun seat -- the one that is inches away from an unplanned skydive. I am certain to fasten my belts securely. We lift off in the helicopter, a wholly unnatural experience that has all the altitude of flying an airplane yet all the sense of motion of driving a sofa.

Our pilot seems a bit unenthusiastic, and some gentle prodding from Shane -- the master of getting people to say what they really think -- reveals that this wasn't really what he had in mind for a career when he transitioned into civilian life. But, he does his job with skill if not flair, and he flies us over the first five gorges and points out the next three in the distance.

The view from the helicoper is magnificent. We can see to the horizon, and we can see how the gorge slashes through the landscape. Essentially the Katherine River slices through a series of small ridges, with the Outback desert on the upstream side and a transition to lush wetlands on the downstream side. Small creeks and underground streams are easy to spot from the air as ribbons of green cutting across the otherwise brown landscape. Billabongs, a landscape feature I was familiar with in a textbook sense, become plainly clear: crescent-shaped ponds created when a river changes course, leaving a former river bend cut off from the flow.

Katherine Gorge from the air.

The chopper ride was over all too soon -- literally. We probably weren't in the air ten minutes, a surprisingly short flight for $80 apiece. Our pilot may be bored but he's cleaning up every boring minute.

Thence to dinner back at the lodge, where they were having a barbecue. I order a kangaroo steak. When it arrives, I discover that an Australian barbecue does not involve any actual barbecue sauce. But that's not really a problem -- kangaroo tastes good enough that it stands well on its own, no sauce needed. It's hard to describe what kangaroo tastes like. It's a red meat, but has a flavor of its own. It's not really like anything on a typical American menu. Jason, ostensibly a vegetarian, ordered up some crocodile which he generously shared with me. It tastes a lot like chicken (which is sensible, since it's a white meat) except greasier. Shane got water buffalo, which has no relation to American bison, and which tastes pretty much like beef.

Also over dinner we're treated to a couple of Australian folk musicians who sing a few dozen Australian folk songs, all new to me -- so I don't know their names -- but quite familiar to Australians. Shane regales us with the stories behind most of the songs, in particular one called "Fighting Tigers" that is all about shearing sheep. Apparently the Australians take their sheep-shearing quite seriously; the record-holder can do an entire sheep in something silly like eight seconds.

After dinner, we retreat to our rooms and rest up for the long drive ahead.