Here We Go Again

The battery levels have not come up in the trip to Mary Kathleen as we would have liked. We dig out the generator and fire it up. Its not obtrusive but it is, like others in earshot, making some noise.

Why don’t things simply work? The in-built requirement for knowledge of things technical is mind boggling at times and this is no different. There are no instructions of note and the BCF staff suggested it should be a plug and play outcome

Heading back towards the car park I see others have managed to traverse around the other side of the shaft. Following a track I soon find myself looking across the shaft at the others. The view has changed again.

We dine in the bar area and head back to the vans full to the gills. Its dark, very dark so I head outside to take pictures of the stars to annoy my astrophysicist daughter.

We settle into the entertainment. I liken the performance to something my oldest son might provide to his audience, playing to their requests, losing lines from time to time but having the audience totally enthralled in the entertainment.

The game starts and finishes. It is so close, and the ups and downs of the individual teams is mirrored in the ferocity of the cheering from the floor.

There is a gate at the edge of the park. We go through and head to the river. Its only a short walk to a beach surrounded by palms and gums. At our entry point we split up.

We decide that the fishing is not hot enough, even if the temperature is, and pull the “discretion is the better part of valour” ticket and decide enough is enough. The thought of being crocodile fodder is not pleasant at all.

The band plays well to the audience. At one point the Aussie Crawl guitarist launches into what Jack Black in School of Rock (2003 Paramount) may have suggested was a face melting solo. It certainly had the crowd going and he certainly seemed to be lost in the music. The band plays well to the audience. At one point the Aussie Crawl guitarist launches into what Jack Black in School of Rock (2003 Paramount) may have suggested was a face melting solo. It certainly had the crowd going and he certainly seemed to be lost in the music.

Our cultural guide is Neville. He is a local, born in Arnhem Land. He is unnervingly personable. His underlying formal education he tries to hide but his articulate presentation gives him away.