Here We Go Again - Chapter 55 - Mataranka Day 3

The vagaries of the night before, behind us, the new day brings new challenges. The heat and the sheer number of visitors here have taken its toll on resources.

The electricity went off during the night and so far is yet to come back on. That is no issue, the inverter has taken over and we are working off the batteries. That in itself can create issues, but the power should come back on – eventually. The water pressure seems to be lacking as well because as we shower the water pumps kick in meaning the force coming into the van is insufficient.

This also presents little problem as I can simply refill the tanks from time to time regardless of the pressure. It will just mean standing in the sun for the period I watch the tanks fill. What it may mean is the tank with the airlock may fill easier than normal, but we will wait to see that.

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Annoyed at the performance of our business in the webinar last night, I sit and write a detailed procedure, clarifying everyone’s duties, where information stems from and the programs used to produce the webinar, one of the flagship products we want to be known for. The more I write the procedure the angrier I become, noting things that should just be second nature, somehow failed to occur. Once completed it is distributed, or will be distributed once the internet works.

After breakfast, I have found one of those savoury tins of flavoured tuna split on two pieces of toast as a more than suitable repast, and the refilling of the water tanks (just in case), I strap on my runners and head to the end of the airstrip. “Strap on” the runners is pretty close given the heat has played havoc with my ankles. 

On my own I can walk with purpose, being on my own. Robyn is working on labelling contracts which there seem to be an endless supply. It keeps her busy for a significant part of each day but does not stop her joining us for anything “significant” we wish to do. 

Back to my walk, I pass families also out for a walk in the early morning light. The sun is yet to take the temperature into the 30’s, making the walk very pleasant. The airstrip is showing the effects of non use. Termite mounds are starting to pop up in the middle of the strip, making it treacherous to use for its principal purpose. 

At the end of the strip I stop to take some pictures on a large mound of dirt, pushed up into the bush. This vantage point gives me a better view of the vista. It seems a long way back to the van, even though the walk here seemed very quick. Perhaps it was the speed at which I walked or the breaks in concentration acknowledging other walkers and campers but the walk seems to finish quickly. 

Perhaps I should do a second lap? Maybe not.

Everyone is moving now and we are off to the beer garden for a Covid update. The rudeness of the journalists towards the NSW Premier and the Chief Medical Officer has not subsided at all. The questioning makes you cringe that adults could treat those in authority, those voted to handle things like this crisis on our behalf in that manner. There appears to be not much thinking before engaging their mouths.

My phone rings a number of times. All calls about the webinar. Staff apologising for their bungles, whereas the guest and my business partner are buoyant at the end result. Between the journalists in front of me on the TV and the memories being stirred by the phone calls, it might be an early opening of the bar if this continues.

Silver Leader breaks in, suggesting the latest “expert” has put him onto the hottest of spots for catching fish in the area. We head back to the vans to rig up. Of course I am simply ready to go, he takes a few minutes and in my mood at the moment, the level of anxiety is not lowered. 

He has GPS coordinates of the hot spot. We input them into the navigation system in the Cruiser and we are off. For a start we are on the only road into the camp but we are not going to Mataranka. The GPS is suggesting we need to turn onto Hauser Driver and head left.

Nothing to worry a 4wd drive vehicle, we are still driving along a bitumen road. On and on we go. All of a sudden the blue line of the GPS stops and we pull off the road into a car park. We must be here and in fact this car park is at the start (actually the midpoint) of an adventure walk.

The GPS suggests the Roper River is only one hundred metres or so from view. The sun is  now at full strength and the thought of fishing on the bank of the river becomes much more palatable than standing in the sun in this car park. The other issue I feel is, if we are in a car park at the mid point of an adventure walk, how secret is this fishing spot?

Down the bush track we head. There is nothing to stop us in the form of overgrown vegetation.

The adventure track heads along the river in both directions but well back from the water. We can see some rapids and head off the track and onto a sloping beach where the water, damming up against the rocks of the rapids appears to sit belying the movement towards the rocks. 

I take the quiet spot while Silver Leader clambers over some of the rocks to get out into the middle of the rapids. Lures are propelled into the river. For a moment simply enjoying the area would be enough, but we are here, in the secret spot, to catch barramundi.

Momentarily, Silver Leader yelps. He is into a fish and is playing it between the rocks, negotiating snags and retrieving line. The fish is not big but it is a fish. Its not a barramundi either. Its a Sootie Grunter but its a fighting fish worthy of his talents. He lands it, and even from the distance between us I can see the size of the capture. I get him to hold it up and I take some pictures. Of course the fish still attempting to dispatch the hook manages to foil most of the attempts of a good shot. The fish is returned to its lair.

Working the rapids opening and the open water I manage only weed fish. Long lines of slimy green weed, picked up from the bottom of the relatively shallow water. 

We decide to move downstream in search of our prey. Lures continue to be propelled and retrieved without success other than weedfish. In our travels we come across what seems to be a small billabong, covered in a shield of moss, the water seems stagnate. It actually isn’t a billabong, there is a stream feeding into a pond and then into the river.

In the distance a white structure comes into view. A jetty? No, on closer inspection from this side of the river its a crocodile trap. A sobering reminder of the potential dangers of fishing secluded rivers and streams here in this area. 

There is movement ahead of me. Can I see what I think I see? I reach for my phone to take a picture and sure enough there is now a “log” in the water moving against the current. Thats interesting. I seem to remember the bar staff suggesting the crocs here were only of the freshwater variety. The trap and now this movement brings a different anxiety level.

Careful review of the pictures seem to suggest it is only a freshie. But its a 2 metre freshie. It heads away from the bank apparently as apprehensive of us as we are of it.

Its time for a rethink. In my hands I have a fishing line, lure attached which is supposed to attract fish – actually catch fish would be nice. Fish ARE food (unlike Bruce’s remonstrations in Finding Nemo – 2003 Buena Vista) and they are food for them as well as us. The thought of hooking a fish with a crocodile in the vicinity, the sight of a primed croc trap to add drama to the situation….

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 adventure track is easily found and we start back. 

A cow blocks the track. Its a young heifer and it snorts at us with disdain as we walk towards it. Thankfully that is as mad as it gets and it wanders into the bush just heading on its was as opposed to getting out of the way of ours.

Packing away the gear in the car park, Silver Leader notes he has dropped or left behind on the bank an important piece of equipment. We will have to retrace our steps and look for the expensive piece. No worries I can go the original track and he can do it in reverse. Hopefully we will find it.

Its not at the first beach. I continue along the river, finding it just past the “billabong”, But things are different in the scenery. What was a matted, fully covered screen of green moss etc now has a straight line directly across it.

Another croc?? I don’t wait around to find out.

I meet Silver Leader at the fork in the track and loop the package in his general direction, recounting the line in the billabong debris. He is happy on two fronts. He has his expensive equipment back and he did not see the line in the billabong.

It will be the freezer giving up dinner tonight as we have nothing to show for our efforts.

We spend happy hour in the beer garden and marvel at the huge line waiting to order dinner. In Karumba, it would have been at least a 3 drink line – three drinks required to be supplemented to the designated orderer before satisfaction could be achieved. There is a recounting of the experiences of the afternoon,a showing of photographs to those who might know asto the variety of crocodile we had encountered, and a general happiness we were home in one piece and enjoying a cold libation in the later afternoon heat.

We leave the line to its waiting, and sit with our drinks and take in the entertainment of the “Usual Suspects”. The park is full, the beer garden is overflowing, there is money to be made by the management of the park. Supply and demand in its purest form placing pressures on businesses to perform. One day they are locked down and no one is here, the next the flood gates open and you have what is being experienced here.