Wednesday 28^th August

The flora changed as we drove south, then west, then northwards, entering stone country with Zimbabwe-like gigantic outcrops. In a little donga by a wettish patch, we stopped with a punctured back tyre. Aidan, instructed by Ian and aided by tour members, changed the massive inner wheel, while the women laid out morning refreshments and others stood watching.

I took a photo and sent it to our family WhatsApp group.

“Why aren’t you helping, Mum?” asked my son.

“I had Aiden’s hat on my head, and reminded them to put rocks under the front wheels,” said I.

“I’m sure that would have gone down well,” he replied.

My “reminder” had been framed in a vague and tactful manner as I tried to look for suitable stones, remembering a tragedy in Kenya long ago, when a friend’s husband was under the chassis wrestling with repairs, and the vehicle wobbled on top of him.

We are a happy, cohesive group without tendency to complain. We stopped for another break in a short signal-window, and I managed to put more pictures on WhatsApp. It was hot, and the airconditioned coach was bliss.

A late lunch, and scarcely time to inspect our rooms at Davidson’s Camp Safaris at Mount Borradaile, when we had to be off again. Divided into two groups, we walked to an escarpment and spent over two hours looking at rock paintings. Guide Ryan set us puzzles, which I couldn’t solve, then got the hang of it.

I opted out of a scramble through rocks to examine the art more closely above our heads, wanting to preserve myself for the morrow.

Guide Ryan was clearly enthralled with the incredible variety of rock art and imparted his enthusiasm to us all. One dramatic painting of a Rainbow Serpent stood out clearly.

Supper at 7pm was steak again, and I sat next to Ian for the third time. He looked tired, and I hope he rests well tomorrow.

Thursday 29^th August 2024

I opted for the long 4-5km walk. I’d been a bit put off by Ryan’s initial description of climbing rocks and manoeuvring through awkward places. He’d told me a walking stick would not be appropriate, but he was sure I would manage okay. Aiden was there at difficult places to assist with a steady cheerful hand, and I was so glad I went.

We had time off to rest after a BBQ lunch including kangaroo and buffalo meat, then we embarked on a typical Aussie sunset cruise along a wide billabong. A plethora of birds on both banks and crocodiles aplenty in and out of the water.

Fifteen minutes to sunset. The boat took a stance facing the setting sun, a tree tastefully on the left. Previously ordered drinks were served and cameras clicked. A raucous time was had by all.

On our return to the landing stage, we passed a boat containing four men who had previously parodied catching and then releasing an enormous barramundi. (That was a fake fish, I’d objected – it never moved, and didn’t even make a splash!). This time their stunt with a net as they brandished their stubbies, got me completely lost, but shouts of laughter emanated from our boat, so everyone else saw the joke.

For supper I opted for the duck again – not as tasty or tender as Murwangi Camp. I slept solidly that night.

Friday 30^th August

A 5am wake up for breakfast. I opted for scrambled eggs, bacon and tomato, because long bus journeys and small bitings at stops don’t quite compensate for light lunches.

A seven-hour ride through changing countryside with stops along the way, including a ceremonious entry to Gari Gunak Barlu National Park (spot Ian’s trick in the photo).

Then a little museum to look at before going on board a boat for a 20-minute dash across Port Essington to Seven Spirit Bay. We had a man-size roll sandwich and a piece of melon each for lunch. Delicious duck a l’orange for dinner.

As our room number 20 with a view was the furthest possible from the main reception area, I ordered a buggy to fetch me for dinner. It did not arrive, so I walked in the dark, following others along sparsely lit paths with no signs.

I should now say something about my roommate Suzanne. Wife of a retired diplomat and a former administrator in her own right at the highest levels of ministerial and diplomatic negotiations and international conventions. I came to understand a possible secret of her success: not even the most haughty of delegates would dare to gainsay her when she was in charge. And yet, under that sometimes formidable exterior lay a sense of humour, a kind spirit, and a sound conception of others’ viewpoints.

We were both determined to make our room partnership work. After all, we were saving thousands of dollars. After pussy-footing round each other on the first couple of days, we established a workable routine. On entering a new room, she would cast a professional eye over the place and invariably identify shortcomings. These incidents increased as our tour drew towards its end.

One day when we were stepping out of the bus, I could sense something was brewing. It was not the time, or place. I dared to tap her gently on the shoulder and half-waggle my finger. She faced up to me. I took a step forwards. She stepped back. Our eyes locked. I made a couple of forward strides as she gave way in the manner of a dance. Her eyes twinkled. My lips twitched. And we had a hug.