Surviving a shark attack, snapping tortoises and Stonehenge

Fifteen years ago, I went head to head with a shark.  Sort of.

I mean I came close to one.

I was diving for abalone in Fortescue Bay in Tasmania's South East.

It was a smallish shark, five or six feet perhaps.

I don't care.  I was shit scared.  I floundered back to the boat ramp, threw my gear in the Pajero, and put my diving equipment on eBay.

I hadn't been back in the water since.  Until Monday.

This time, it wasn't sharks I had to keep an eye out for.  It was crocodiles - both kinds (saltwater and freshwater).

Did I care?  No.

That's because this was the nicest place to get wet I've ever been lucky enough to stumble across.

Litchfield National Park was our first stopover on the Darwin to Brisbane jaunt.  It wasn't on the original itinerary, however thanks to input from the local brains trust, we made a detour.

Kakadu gets all the kudos (and visitors), leaving Litchfield largely for the locals (nice alliteration -ed.).

Florence Falls, courtesy NT Tourism

So when we arrived to set up camp at Wangi falls, the place was empty except a handful of French backpackers (thanks for the sunnies you left behind in the shower block).

As I said in a previous blog, the Toyota Tank is fully fitted out for camping.  What this means is it has a bed on the roof, and a tent that zips into the roof tent (zip A into C, after inserting frame piece F2 into the aluminium housing attached to catheter R6).

Kath, from Britz campers explained how the contraption worked when I picked up the tank, but I wasn't listening.

In any event, the outside temperature was hovering above 40 degrees at 6pm.  When I finally got Gadget 4 attached to ladder apparatus D3, the tent was a sauna.

So I scrapped Plan A, and crashed on the ground.

Bad call.

Despite being smothered with the local anti-insect cream, Bushman, (we were told Aerogard only angers the little bitey beasts), there was no respite.

Barry, a  large green insect with a yellow eye on each side of his bulbous head, had been perched on the annex frame for hours.  Watching.  Waiting.

When I finally lit the last of the mosquito coils and lay down on the stupid, useless, inflatable sleeping mat, Barry struck.

After injecting my neck with whatever he had in his green tail, he called for backup troops.

This wasn't camping, it was carnage.

Despite being half tanked on Carlton Draught and codeine, I remember being bitten perhaps fifty times on the neck, face, legs and hands.

So just before sunup five hours later, it was time to hit the pool.

Only crystal clear water, I thought, would ease the suffering.

Wangi Falls, Litchfield NP.  Photo courtesy iPhone 4S.  Yes, I know.  It's time for an upgrade.

The pool below Wangi falls, according to the helpful folk from the National Parks service, is home to freshwater crocodiles, the snapping tortoise, bison, eastern brown snake along with around 14 varieties of fish and 23 other species of mammals.

Saltwater crocs often visit, but are 'discouraged from doing so' (presumably, somebody from the parks service reads them the by-laws).

So the risk of getting bitten by something was reasonably high.

I got lucky.

So here it is -  and it's a big call - the pool at Wangi Falls is the nicest place I've ever submerged my ageing, flabby body in.

I didn't even see a crocodile.

What I can report is this place has healing properties.  Despite the attack of the killer insects the night before, I emerged ready for another 1,200 kilometre drive.

Yep, I'm gushing here.  It's that good.

So if you're ever in the Northern Territory (and you should be, more on that later), then do as the locals do.

Go to Litchfield.

There's a lot more than waterfalls, canyons and plunge pools.

There are also termites.  And who doesn't love a termite?  Particularly if you live in one of the states where they don't wreck your precious property values.

These clever little suckers not only build mounds up to 6 metres high, but manage to align them so they're all pointing to exactly 1.8262 degrees of longitude east of Stonehenge.

Tomorrow, why the GPS in your car is the enemy, the cost of Twisties in remote Aboriginal communities, and why you should never trust car rental companies.