When we arrived in the Territory it was hot, humid and excessively crowded. Similar to what I imagine hell will be like. Aside from the obvious physical discomfort there was the added issue of the zillions of mosquitos, flies, ants, and dead animals rotting away by the roadside.
Just as we were throwing our eyes skywards in despair and pointing the Pearl south for cool weather and vegetarian food, I saw a frog. A living, breathing un-squashed frog. I squatted down to examine this beast who was co-inhabiting the bathroom with me. Its beady little eyes blinking back, its neck pulsating with anxiety, hoping that its brown skin would blend in with the semi-white tiles. I leaned down, and in a moment of heat fuelled hysteria, I kissed that frog… and yes, it did turn into a princess… a metaphorical princess of course.
Having left sanity with the frog, the very next day we arrived at a place of humbling beauty and strength. Within seconds of starting the walk into the gorge I was flooded with adjectives…or is it nouns? Despite numerous efforts by many educators I’ve never been able to remember which is which, I can feel mums cringe all the way from Brisbane… or Townsville…or Sydney…or…I’m sure there’s a lesson in here somewhere, but that’s next blog
We entered the walk through a curtain of vegetation and fallen tress at varying stages of decay. Butterflies danced between moist rock crevices formed millions of years ago, where time was obsolete and the world knew nothing of fossil fuels, carbon emissions and politicians. It was here that we walked in stunned silence through a trifle of vegetation of soaring paperbark trees, pandanus and eucalypts. Where the cool forest air curdled with the heat radiating from the rock, the sound of trickling water competing against the chatter of birdlife. Lush green canopies competed for space with the gnarly rock walls creating an odd contrast to the softness of the mosses growing profusely. I felt as though if we stopped long enough, we too would be engulfed by the scenery.
As we ventured further along the track, the impossible overhanging rocks and boulders balanced precariously, hanging on with unyielding strength, only to give way in the blink of an eye. somewhere. Sometime. Crashing to the ground in deafening silence. To once again remain still, and open to the eroding elements.
Mesmerised.
Intruders, we felt stunned into silence. Unable to comprehend such unassuming beauty, seeing life as life should be. Wild and unpredictable, yet so simple and functional. We could do nothing but walk on, afraid to raise a camera lens for fear of breaking the moment, bringing a mechanicalness to such a raw environment felt disrespectful, wrong and plain stupid. As though the rocks were laughing at us, saying “You fools! As if you could capture me in a 8×6 rectangular image. I can not be contained, tamed or even trivialised to such a hollow point, you see me here and now and then in your dreams” We dare not raise a camera lens.
As we neared the end of the walk the forest fell away to expose a soaring gorge that dwarfed the sky, playing host to a series of large bottomless plunge pools that entertained a selection of fish skirting beneath the surface, looking up at us in timid anticipation.
As though in a trance, we slipped out of day wear and into our birthday suits. Glad that we hadn’t slathered ourselves in polluting sunscreen, we silently slipped into the pools, asking the water and rocks for permission to do so. Promising to leave nothing but our thoughts. When the dragonflies danced across the waters top we knew all was well, this is our universal signal that we were ok to enter. To be. To share. Most importantly, to leave.
This was our princess. That ugly looking slimy frog had at last turned into a princess. As a kind hearted, but openly sexist man said to us at the Victoria River Road house, “once you’ve been kissed by the dessert wind, there’s no turning back”
Ain’t that the truth, 7 weeks and counting, we are yet to leave the NT.
