Croker Island Blues
On the 18th June, after a totally sleepless
night, when I gave up, read a book, and rose to prepare my final packing, I
found myself winging it to Croker Island, via Goulburn Island. For much of the
flight I dozed, but from my seat just behind the pilot of the twin engined
Cessna Titan 404, my blurry gaze focussed on the vast northern wetlands of
Kakadu and Arnhemland, the isolated northern coast, and a smattering of islands
below. The plane seemed to fly itself, with the pilot flicking an occasional
switch, and making entries in his log book. Three Aboriginal women, one an elder
with a pierced nasal septum, a middle aged woman, and a mother with two small
boys, and a public servant with a lap-top on his way to Goulburn shared the
flight. I gave the Croker ladies a brief explanation of my purpose in visiting
their island, and they were very interested and
encouraging.
We circled and landed on a red dirt airstrip in
Goulburn, one hour out from Darwin, and mail bags being exchanged and a large
Aboriginal man boarding for the return flight to Darwin, we took off again for
the half hour flight to Croker Island, which we had bypassed on the way out.
Soon we were approaching the Minjilang Community from the east, a tiny
settlement set on the edge of a perfect sandy bay, ringed with natural bush and
palm trees. We flew across the island to the ubiquitous red airstrip, and as we
circled to land I could see Raffles Bay across Bowen Strait, looking much
smaller and closer than I had imagined it to
be.
Shane, a tall taciturn
part-Aboriginal met the plane in the community twin cab, our luggage was
deposited in the tray, and we made our way across the Island. I had read
Barker's description of a large swamp on Croker Island, but was unprepared for
the beauty of this vast wetland, not yet depleted by the dry season, and teeming
with magpie geese, jabaru, and countless other species of birds on either side
of the elevated dirt road which cuts directly across the lagoon. Beautiful
purple flowering water lillies dotted throughout the wetland completed this
idyllic scene. We soon entered the community, set on rising ground and
overlooking the bay as described, and I found myself sitting on the verandah of
my temporary lodgings, bathed in a sea breeze, gazing at the view, and tended by
a couple of friendly dogs.
Day two in
Minjilang, and I have established some contact with a few of the women in the
community, and entered some information into the office computer, as well as
some historic photographs taken of the Iwaidja people in the 1880's I had
obtained from the net, and in which much interest has been shown. The afternoon
was taken up with an old man's funeral. His coffin lay in a palm covered shelter
as traditional dancing to clap stick and didgeridoo was played. Eventually the
coffin was placed in the back of a troop carrier, and driven slowly across town,
where the body was laid to rest by the tall black padre, who was accompanied by
another guitarist as well as his own guitar, as they, and a small choir of women
sang moving hymns to an island
beat.
When the funeral was over, Deb,
the school principal, and Jasmine picked me up, and took me across the island in
the school 'troopy', through the wetlands again, to Jarbu Lodge. Here we met
Robert Hunt, the owner, who I had spoken with some weeks ago regarding a boat
trip to Raffles Bay. Robert, a laid back 'Diver Dan' type character has his
little paradise set up within a hundred metres of the beach, with a line of
small tropical style huts set amongst palm trees, a dining/drinking area, and
his boats nearby, in which he takes fabulously rich punters fishing. He had to
rebuild his lodge over the past couple of years, as it was destroyed by cyclone
Ingrid, during which Robert himself was lucky to escape with his life. He
decided to sit out the cyclone in his troop carrier, but it was blown some two
hundred metres during the storm, and almost into the ocean. The local padre
apparently saved his own life by tying himself to a metal pole during the
tempest. Many buildings were destroyed on the island, and many tall trees stand
as gaunt testament to the fury of cyclone
Ingrid.
Robert is keen to have a look
at the old settlement in nearby Raffles Bay himself, and Deb has also indicated
her interest in taking the trip. I think the more the better, as it will be
quite an effort to explore the no doubt overgrown remains of the settlement
without help. The trip is set for Tuesday of next week, a full seven days away,
so I suspect there will be a lot of writing happening as I while away the
days.
The local nurse rang as we were
chatting with Robert, and offered to come and join us with a curry she had
prepared, so we shared a fine meal, a chat, and a a few games of darts before
crossing the lagoon again, this time in the dark. The next week will also be
utilised meeting with the people of this beautiful place, and hopefully,
exploring and photographing it extensively. As this is being written, in the
early hours of Wednesday 20th June, a very steady and persistent rain has set
in. This is supposed to be the 'dry' of course, when it never rains. It feels
like it will last for days.
Posted: Wed - June 20, 2007 at 01:32 AM
