Ka-ka-du-du-du, push pineapples, shake the tree. Part three

We awoke at our usual time of sunrise, but really felt the late night. I hadn’t been drinking as I ran out of booze a few days ago, but felt rough having not had the usual 9-10 hours of sleep.  We were heading for Cahill’s crossing today, a famous crocodile spotting location where at high-tide everyday loads of crocodiles congregate around a natural bottleneck in the river (that is now a crossing into Arnhem land) to feast on the masses of mullet forced into shallow waters.  

Once we’d found a spot overlooking the single lane crossing, we started to spot the salties in the water. It was strange to see the fishermen and tourists standing next to the water… Do they not know that crocodiles kill people?

It's not the ones you see you should fear!

It was fun to watch the crocodiles swim floating and mulling about waiting for the fish. It was also fun watching a bloke in his boat fishing off nearby. I had my camera ready in case he fell in… I wanted to be the one who got the shot featured on the news.

Oh I hope he doesn't fall in

There was quite a bit of variation in the size of the crocs, maybe ranging from 1.5m to 3.5m. No huge ones, although a ranger said a 5m big ‘un does frequent the area. They also do this strange thing when they’re floating, sticking their front legs out to the side; Becky thinks it looks like they’re drying their nail polish.

"I don't want to get my fingernails wet"

As the tide rises, a few crocs cross over, surfing over the crossing. This is a fun thing to watch, although a bloke was taken by a croc here in January this year. He was wading across at high tide around 4pm, so not a real surprise.

Weeeeeeeee!

After an enjoyable hour watching the crocs, we went to the other attraction in the area, Ubirr, to lookout of the flood plains and into Arnham land. It was nice, but due to our late night and being in the sun quite a bit watching the crocs, we weren’t as appreciative as we could have been.

How long do I have to sit here "appreciating" this?

Indeed, Becky was quite prickly. She can be very abusive to me at times.

A side she usual only shows behind closed doors

Tired and hungry, we returned to our campsite. We started preparing the next leg of our trip, leaving Kakadu for a brief stopover at Corroboree Park Tavern, before hitting Darwin for a few days. I spent the afternoon sat by the pool full of kids, writing this blog and drinking few golds during happy hour. If Belly were here, we’d have people-watched the fuck out of this place. Nothing of note happened after that, I mean what I have written is barely of note, but something has to go in this damn blog.

The journey out of Kakadu was ok, we stopped at a few sights including Mamukala bird hide. There were some proper birders there and I felt very inadequate with the little zoom lens on my camera. It was so bad I didn’t even bother taking any pictures.

We arrived at Corroboree Park Tavern a little after lunch, set the camp up and did some washing. We were starting to get a little stressed about out big town visit and all the tasks we had laid out. Corroboree Park has a huge saltie in a pen, so we went to have a look at Brutus, a 4m long croc.

His skin looks softer than the soles of my feet

He didn’t do much, and I just wondered how long you’d last if you jumped in there with him. I bet he was wondering the same thing. We then went to look at the other animals they have there, including some wild pigs. In the pen there was a sow, a hog and two little piglets. We watched and chuckled as the little piglets tried to drink from the mother’s tits. Our enjoyment was soured somewhat when the hog started to try and fuck the little boy piglet as he fed from his mother. I must admit, I chuckled at first, as it was the first time I’d witnessed child sex abuse in swine, but the smile quickly faded as the hog chased the squealing piggy (making a noise that would arouse a red-neck) around the small pen extending it’s corkscrew nob and thrusting towards towards the piglet. Fortunately it didn’t seem logistical possible for the hog to simultaneously hold the piglet still with his chin and penetrate him, but it wasn’t nice to witness. Becky went in to tell the owners about the paedophile in their midst, but just like the BBC in the 70’s and 80’s they didn’t care. She swore she'd tell the RSCPA about it when we got to Darwin… Long story short, they didn’t care either. Turns out, if you want to fuck a piglet in NT, fill your boots.