Day 44: Leaking Boat on Crocodile Spring
This morning we headed back out again through the wilderness park to a small waterway called 'crocodile spring'. While just the thought of being with those prehistoric creatures was fun enough, we knew it would be even better as the owners leave a small boat for you to take out.
The creek was unspoilt, with a carpet of water lillies and tall paperbarks, their branches reaching out to meet in the middle as though they are trying to hold hands.
The boat however was less ideal. Not much bigger than a standard bath tub, the idea of both me and Hux managing to row out in to the creek without tipping in to the dark water was going to be a challenge. Thinking that Hux would be more of a meal for any hungry croc than me, we hopped in the boat. Me at the front, and Gix at the rear, precariously close to the water. Slowly paddling through the still water leaving the bearest of ripples behind, it was a hard way to spend the morning.
After reaching dry land we moved on to Ink Spot Pool, where we were reassured that swimming was ok. While I passed, Hux being more confident now, jumped in saying something about being a 'croc whisperer'. A quick swim and it was time to leave camp and get back on the dirt. Then disaster struck. We had a blow out of the rubber. We were going to be in trouble as we still had a lot of rough ground to cover in the next 2 weeks. We made an attempt to get it fixed but knew it would not last. The question was - what next?...
Luckily it was only Graeme's thong so we hoped we may be able to buy a new pair when we get to the next town. After several hundred km we had a small taste of civilisation reaching the black top of the Carpentaria highway. But not for long as we turned off on our way to King Ash Bay on the edge of the Gulf of Carpentaria.
King Ash Bay is actually a fishing club who also provide a camp site for travellers. On the McArthur River, it is a gathering point for many who have fish in their blood. By the look of the set up of many camps, many come and stay for months or even years. Luckily we got a great spot right on the river (despite the crocs luckily there was a steep bank so we hoped they were not good at climbing).
With an open air club where dress regulations stipulate a minimum of singlet and thongs (I wondered if they will let Hux in with only one thong), we spent the evening leaning up against the bar watching the weekly trivia night and chatting to someold salties.
As we only had 2 nights here, the aim was to extract as much local knowledge before we hit the water tomorrow in the hope of catching the big Barra.
I got the immediate feeling that this was going to be no easy task with the ideal fishing holes being kept secret from these 'two blow-ins'. One old fella told us "I've been here a month and hadn't been going out".
We were told that "there was nothin biting", "the water was too cold for fish at the moment", "they needed water in the gulf to heat up a bit" and "I wouldn't bother". It was impossible to tell if this was the truth or a way of not giving any secrets.
However, I did ask the same old fella later in the eavening what are some good excuses when we don't catch anything and he told us " just tell them you've been here a month and hadn't been going out". Looks like the fish will be the winners tomorrow.
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