# NT: 9/09 Yak Adventure in the Gulf of Carpentaria, Part 3



## murd

*Part 3:* 
_If science has taught us anything, it is that the environment is full of uncertainties._
_- PRINCE CHARLES_

*Diary Date: 21/9/2009*. 15 days in the warm Aussie bush is a long time without everyday luxuries such as ice, flush toilets, telecommunications and women but today we'd change that with an overnight stop in the Aboriginal town of Borroloola. Dreams of cold beer and tap showers filled our minds and the chance to dine on some exotic foodstuffs I'd been saving since Sydney.

We initially spent the morning around the Wearyan River, fishing a little in the yaks and exploring upstream where we took a look at an old rundown flood monitoring station. Once we'd left camp for the 60km drive to Borroloola, we found the road a 'tad' corrugated but nothing unusual for that part of the world in that time of year. On arrival we checked into the McArthur River caravan park and used the downtime from paddling to repack the cars, dump rubbish, conduct minor repairs, meet other travellers and wash clothes. I became slightly embarrassed at Craig's vast amount of underwear hanging to dry when mine only tallied 3 pairs plus some speedos for the 15 days. My excuse was - err, I didn't really have one&#8230;

By late afternoon the beers and coke had chilled and we treated ourselves to the succulent cans together with smoked oysters, cheese on biscuits, tinned dolmades, marinated olives and jars of artichokes. Unfortunately we didn't find the women as expected due to the touring Euro gymnastics squad running a day late. And because our schedule needed us to meet the tide at the next river in the morning, we couldn't wait around.

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_I'd known about these ruins upstream of the Wearyan crossing for a decade now but this was the first time I'd bothered exploring them. Not much was really laying about for the curious except a number ancient corroding battery packs and a padlocked shed which had nothing inside to hide except four walls of wasp nests. A keen eye will see Craig fiddling around the shed trying to break in._

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Here I am driving through the Wearyan River as the road crew fills their tanker yet again (with the noisy water pump that liked to run continuously all day.) I have only ever seen this crossing dry once in my travels north which occurred during the first visit in October 1999. At times the path across can be long and deep and full of rocks which create a nightmare for cars like mine and the 'local' Commodores. 
_
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This giant (but recently deceased) green phasmid was found in the caravan park at Borroloola. I've heard these are good bush tucker when lightly fried with spices but I opted for the plate of dolmades, oysters and olives instead. The local birds ended up eating it the next day so the cycle of life continued._

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Was the alien in 'Predator' modelled on this? It's quite amazing what close-up photography brings out in nature. Co-incidentally, this is similar to what Junglefisher looks like first thing in the morning.
_
*Tuesday 22/9/9: Off to the Limmen River*
Morning came and we eagerly set off on a fairly intense drive to our next destination, the Limmen River. Last year this river fished extremely well and I had hopes that it would do so again. Once we left the bitumen for the dirt I could see the graders had been active over the weeks but the initial '50 kays of crap' to Ryan's Bend where the track improved still kept my speed down. Some of the bulldust troughs were downright scary and I went through one abyss wishing I hadn't before 'chickening' out on the next that would have swallowed the Swift whole. Luckily someone had crafted a sidetrack around it that concerned drivers i.e. me, could follow in safety.

The Limmen River lies in the _Limmen National Park_ so naturally restrictions apply with certain activities, especially shooting. I told Craig not to mention guns if the rangers dropped by, even if they questioned our sanity paddling the river. One thing we weren't expecting when reaching it however, was finding a pile of rocks (sorry, boulders) on the short path to the bush campsite on the bank. I knew the rangers had placed them there to 'force' visitors out to the National Parks' dedicated site across the river but that was in the middle of nowhere, and not even near the water. So, feeling rebellious we moved the obstructions as best we could and carefully idled in.

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_You can see the rocks the rangers placed on the track to stop people camping along the bank. This photo was actually taken when we departed the Limmen River after putting back those that we'd moved (to appease the rangers). Some of these rocks were quite heavy and I couldn't believe we shifted them by hand considering they'd originally been put there by a bulldozer. We met the two rangers on our second day at the river, a sun-hardened middle aged chap with a beard longer than Craig's, and a younger female in her 20s. The girl wasn't overly impressed that we'd 'broken into' their exclusion zone but we sweet-talked them enough to stay a few days without moving, even though I knew we'd be there longer. The entire issue it seemed concerned erosion that people were causing by camping in non-designated areas. While this sounded entirely outlandish to me, they had a job to do and believed that a couple of guys walking on a bank would upset the Limmen's entire ecosystem enough to cause it to self-destruct. Grrrr&#8230;_

*Calm down Rick - what happened then?*
We kept fishing of course. Over the four days spent at the Limmen we had varying levels of success trolling and casting the banks with both of us enjoying a healthy score of barra and jacks, even if sometimes we had to paddle many kilometres to find them. Some of the missed strikes were downright vicious and our final tally would have been huge if every hit was a fish instead of an 'expletive'.

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_This shot shows our accommodation on the Limmen bank - you can probably see the serious erosion we've caused since staying here. Over the entire month away this was the only place which lacked natural shade and required the tarp to be deployed. A thing you learn quickly in the Gulf is that you can't really laze around camp all day. The heat, flies and boredom drive you crazy and the best place to be is on the water fishing or paddling.
_
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A road or a river - that is the question? My calculations in Sydney were nearly spot-on and we found the tides favourable each day we went paddling. Camp in this shot was positioned at the top of the road to the right, near all the big rocks.
_
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_The upper reaches of the Limmen are very pretty but would be difficult to navigate without a canoe or kayak, especially the first four kays with its rock bars and constantly changing depth. The pool pictured here is 1.5km from the road crossing and reached after a negotiating an extended narrow channel and a lot of shallow water - at low tide even the yaks became 'beached' trying to get through._

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Craig with a little barra spun from a Limmen bar. I was always impressed with the gentle way Junglefisher cradled his fish for the camera before release. Note the delicate finger position in this photo. 
_
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_Similar to the past few rivers visited, we had fantastic paddling weather at the Limmen with the winds staying light until the afternoon where they kicked in to assist the journey back. This regularity allowed us to cover a lot of ground in the search for fish. We didn't encounter any big crocs doing this but a few smaller guys did startle the Junglefisher at times (much to my amusement) when he ventured too close to them. The Limmen became the river where we finally broke safety ranks and were happy to paddle a wide bank each, confident we wouldn't shoot each other if anything came along that tried to bite. In all honesty though, I was a little worried about this because Craig still hadn't gained the experience of dealing point-blank with a charging man-eater. Consequently, I made an extra effort to keep a close watch on things.
_
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_A typical jack from the Limmen. The predominant fish species encountered in the Limmen were jacks and barramundi caught mainly on the troll. A quick perusal of my diary for the 23rd of September said I caught 8 or 9 barra, 2 queenies and 3 jacks - not a bad days' fishing in my opinion. I think Craig caught about the same. People travelling the Top End sometimes never catch a barra so we weren't doing too badly. 
_
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_On this particular day, we did a 36km return journey downstream to reach and explore Piker Creek situated about 5km short of the Cox River junction. I last made this trip in October '99 and was keen for another attempt at it. This was our longest individual paddle conducted over the month and became a fun way to exercise the shoulders, especially being against the tide in both directions. We picked up barra and jacks throughout the day and missed a lot of strikes but definitely noticed most of the action occurred in the first 10km of water from camp. As this image taken at 02:58pm shows, we had perfect weather to complete the job. _

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1.5 hrs later, I'm standing on the same bar pictured in image 'I' waiting for Craig to catch up. His boat paddled faster than my tub but I probably got ahead of him here while he stopped to play out a fish or two or retie a lure. Quite often we'd lose sight of each other but always meet up again bragging about fish, bust-ups, the ones that got away and (small) crocs.
_
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Craig powering through the tidal bar into the upper section. Bars like this restrict motor boats from getting completely upstream, which is why I like them.
_
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_I wanted fish for dinner on our final night at the Limmen and Craig supplied it, bringing back a barra plus a half of one that got sharked. On this same afternoon the rangers drove by and stopped when seeing us still there. 'Ranger Stacey' wasn't impressed at all and asked us to pack and move as we'd stayed longer than promised (oops&#8230. I told her we were leaving in the morning and would pack then. She had a whinge about regulations and erosion again before letting us stay on but indicating that we'd have to explain to 'the boss' why we hadn't gone. I nearly said, 'Yeah whatever' but held back - we did promise to put her boulders back though. Funnily, the guy didn't seem to care we were there and even shared a laugh with us._

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_How good does that look - crispy fried barra coming up in 20 minutes. Once we'd knocked this lot off I cooked up a second, then did a load in the morning for breakfast._

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_We depart the Limmen River after four great days. Finally, we're rid of the rangers and their %#@# rocks! _

*We leave the Limmen campsite:*
With a fun time had at the Limmen and enough fish landed and eaten to satisfy us for a day or two, we broke camp for the Cox River junction located about 20km by water downstream of the Limmen crossing. The drive is a little longer at 30 kays, the last 3.6 being through a rutted track coming off the road to the _Limmen Bight River Fishing Camp._ Thirty kilometres' driving is just a walk to the dunny in the NT but several things along this short stretch delayed us on the way:

The first was my damaged rear tyre which had been repaired at the Limmen after the plug leaked. I assumed several hundred kilometres of pounding across stones and corrugations had something to do with the tear widening but a replacement plug seemed to keep the air in - at least for 20km before reaching the Cox River causeway where it went down again. Rather than re-plug it I put on the ancient, nearly bald and smaller-profiled spare assuming it would last long enough to keep me mobile.

The second became Craig driving past me as I waited on the sidetrack to the Cox junction. He ended up at the fishing-camp gate before realising I wasn't in front of him. It wasn't really his fault though. By bad timing, a southbound vehicle raised a cloud of dust which cloaked me the moment he went by. I blew the horn and called on the Uniden UHF radio but he never stopped. I even chased him a number of kays but eventually returned to the track and waited, figuring he'd come back one day.

*The Limmen Cox Junction:*
As with the Limmen River, the Cox is part of the immensely huge Limmen National Park but the rangers never seem to go there as it extends far beyond their comfort zone. Finally, we'd be able to shoot things again and camp where we liked.

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Here is where we stayed at the Cox River junction. Last year this clearing didn't exist and someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make it habitable. The area was spotlessly clean and we left it that way when moving out. The 3.6km track to reach it was a little bumpy from numerous cattle prints but only saw the one termite mound in the grass for me to crash into. Pure driving skills saw me avoid it though._

Once camp was established we launched the yaks onto a rising Cox tide and paddled 300m to the Limmen, dragging lures in the hope of snagging something but soon realising that this piece of the NT wouldn't be releasing too many fish in a hurry. The wind was also increasing hindering our attempts and caught us unawares on the distant eastern bank when it whipped up a heinous little chop in the wide channel. I was a little anxious getting back as the Sprite doesn't handle the bump too well and to stay as dry as possible, had to keep the bow pointed towards the swell and let the slightly offset wind ease me over to the protected Cox mouth. Craig's larger yak was more suited to the conditions and I think he enjoyed seeing me floundering around trying not to swallow a wave.

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The Cox is remarkable in that a rock bar completely dams the last 300m of river. When the tide begins to ebb a small waterfall develops that persists until the next high arrives and pushes back over the drop. At night in the calm air the effect is quite prominent and one could almost believe they were near something much more substantial. By contrast, the silence caused by the water's return is equally notable. This 5.15pm shot of the Cox shows the tide running out meaning another noisy night is imminent._

On our second day at the river we embarked on an exploratory fish and paddle to some areas of the Limmen that I had not been into before. One of those was a three kilometre channel system that had the potential for a jack or two but years earlier had been loaded with large crocs keeping me away. By this stage of the trip I was convinced that there wasn't a croc bigger than the yak left in Australia and didn't mind having a look at it now. Here's what the place looks like at an altitude of 3.25km. The channel is clearly seen in the centre of the image:

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We caught nothing in the channel and as expected, never saw a crocodile. The exit put us several kilometres north of the junction and into some wild-looking country. Crossing a broad expanse of water to the western bank, we approached a line of red cliffs that seemed to extend forever. Trolling them didn't generate anything however we did witness several compelling bust-ups from sizeable queenfish.
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The red bank we came to could easily be the NT's version of the Great Australian Bight and can be seen in the above aerial shot. Out of picture to Craig's left were several sandy beaches (again visible in the aerial shot) that screamed 'big crocs' but typically, were barren. The wind was rising at this point from our rear and we followed it upstream to the Cox without getting a bite - At least I got to experience something new.
_
The following writings detail events of the second half of this same day. Craig may want to add his version of what happened later as he didn't say too much about it at the time. There's a fair bit of text to get through here so go grab a drink and have a read about the 'unpleasant' side of paddling a kayak in the Northern Territory:

*Journey up the Cox River:*
Once we'd returned to camp and freshened up a little, we decided to explore the Cox River upstream by following the tide which was pushing steadily over the bar. From past experience with the Cox I wasn't expecting much on the line and on recent observations didn't feel the reptiles would be a problem. I did have one scary experience back in 1999 with a big fella but that was a long time ago and I was sure he'd be gone by now. How wrong I was.

V









Photo 'V' above shows the incoming tide pushing over the Cox bar. We initially paddled the right (western) bank here before tracking left following the current. As we rounded the bend in the background of this image, a crocodile which I estimated to be in the dangerous category appeared from behind a dead tree and began to approach me. I noticed as it did this there being an absence of ripples coming from it meaning the animal had adopted a 'hunting' mode disposition and therefore, needed to be dealt with quickly. Craig was 40m to the right of me and hadn't picked up the head yet so I unclipped the rifle and placed a warning shot near its nose. The croc failed to react so I fired again, this time scaring it to the bottom. Craig looked over and asked what I was shooting at. Not wanting to alarm him, I said a big croc had been coming for me but I'd managed to scare it off.

Continuing upstream we entered a deep line of water where I made the comment to Craig who was near my right, that there could be some 'big stuff in here'. After checking the line to ensure the lure was swimming correctly we began to separate when at 15m between hulls, I heard a splashing sound coming from his direction. Gazing over, I saw a disturbance to his front right side and immediately thought he'd connected with a decent barra. A closer look however revealed the paddle still in his hands and the rod sitting in the holder without a bend.

I assumed then that he must have paddled over a croc but had no idea how large or small it was. Craig appeared to be in some sort of confusion - trying to stroke but getting nowhere, looking down into the water, not saying anything, not yelling out. A powerful swirl occurred next to him and he drove the paddle deep into the river to get away from it. Then, for the first time in three weeks I heard him utter the 'f' word. It was about that moment when I witnessed the size of the thing under the kayak when a massive head surfaced a metre from it looking up into his eyes.

About then I honestly thought that was the end of the Junglefisher. The croc would have nudged the 4m mark and one so huge could easily have dragged him and the boat under without too much effort at all. My rifle was pointed towards it but the angle put Craig too near the path of the bullet and I couldn't fire. He managed to drop the paddle and pick up his own rifle aiming point blank at the head - but nothing happened. 'The gun's jammed, the gun's jammed!' he screamed out.

Things were going from bad to worse and I counted the seconds before the animal took the initiative and lunged. My plan was to shoot it once it did that and I'd have a clear aim. Craig would be in its jaws, but it would release him after feeling the slug in its head. The predicament I found myself facing was that if I lowered the gun to paddle into a better position, I might miss the precise moment it attacked. It seemed wrong that I needed the animal to strike but it was my best way of stopping it.

Unexpectedly, for some inexplicable reason the crocodile suddenly turned and thrust away, the front half of its massive trunk clearing the water as it retreated. I fired off two quick rounds as a caution but the animal was gone in a flash and the shells only smacked the bubbles and foam left on the surface. I thought Craig might have been knocked in by the turbulence of its tail but he managed to stay afloat and paddled over to me. My heart was racing and I assume Craig's was too. The boy was very lucky to be alive. Years ago I found myself in a similar position with a much smaller croc but that one behaved somewhat differently, leaving an indentation in the plastic to remember it by. After that incident I always feared what would have happened if the animal had been larger.

Moving ahead, we came to a right-hand bend in the river with the outside shoreline marked by a number of dead trees. Craig was sitting about 40m off to my front right when I saw a sizeable black head materialize alongside a stump in front of me and commence tracking towards him, quietly and without ripple. I grabbed the gun and fired, putting a shell over its head. The croc didn't react and maintained its course. 'Fuck' I thought, 'this one's gonna eat him!' I fired a second time but again it didn't stop. Craig looked across and asked what I was shooting at. I indicated calmly that there was a big croc coming towards him. 'Where', he questioned - 'Over there', I said pointing.

Peace and serenity on the Cox was abruptly shattered as a vicious crossfire of shells was unleashed on the stalking croc. Incredibly, despite our yaks rising from the water with the amount of lead being ejected, not a single bullet managed to hit it. I was truly amazed how many shots it took before the animal decided to back down and disappear but I knew it wouldn't return in a hurry. Before reaching the river's limit at the road crossing (where I replaced the tyre), we passed another four salties but none which created a problem. Craig managed to drop a few barra up to that point and I landed a nice jack (released) but overall the fishing was quiet.

Once we'd decided to head back I told Junglefisher the good news - that we'd have to go past those 'seven' crocs again! I don't think he was entirely impressed but I didn't mind the challenge of taking on nature again. Naturally, I exercised caution in the locale of the sub-surface monster - until the barra started biting along the shoreline near where it disappeared. Fishing's funny like that in the Gulf. You can be scared shitless of being eaten but once that rod buckles under the strike of a good fish, any fear goes flying out the door. With four quick fish landed on the troll I felt pretty happy with myself and departed the area with a smile. However, we weren't out of trouble yet.

About a kilometre before the bar near camp, I heard a commotion in the bush above a high bank which I assumed was being created by a cranky scrub bull or a mob of pigs. We stopped paddling as the racket intensified to the point where small shrubs and trees were being pushed over. Straining to see what kind of animal would emerge, I didn't expect an enormous saltwater crocodile to suddenly come thrashing down the bank in an apparent rage. It disappeared only momentarily beneath the water before surfacing five metres to my right. The huge head was not facing me so I knew I wasn't being targeted but I believe Craig thought otherwise and would have fired at it if I wasn't in the way. He reckoned the croc was well over the four-metre mark and said it scared him more than the one under his yak. That was the last croc we saw in the Cox River for 2009. Junglefisher _finally _tasted what kayaking the Gulf of Carpentaria is all about.

W








_An aerial view of the infamous NT's Cox River. Some good barra, if you don't mind a few crocs!_

*Closing thoughts:*
So, why were there so many crocodiles in the Cox River and nowhere else? I can't answer that. They are unpredictable creatures and can appear and congregate almost anywhere as I've noticed over the years. And why didn't that big one attack Craig? Again, I don't know. My theory is that it didn't have enough time to 'evaluate' what he was and therefore, believed it safer to run than risk having a chew - this could also be said for the croc which tore down the bank. The two other large animals which had longer to 'check us out' behaved much more differently.

Our last night at the river saw us enjoying a few ports and blowing up butane cans, basically chilling out after an action-packed day. Craig started a small fire in a clearing and put the first can alongside it. His shot caused the gas to erupt in a mushroom-type cloud which engulfed a bushy tree next to it - very impressive I thought as the leaves sizzled and crackled in flame. I hit my can near the base and the gas ran along the ground like a napalm drop from a B52 bomber, creating spot fires here and there and really lighting up the place. We were much closer to the action this time and again captured the exciting moments on video. Here's a piece from the camcorder of what my shot looked like: 
X









The end.

Part 4 of the trip winds things up for the 2009 year. We visit one last river for a fish and unexpectedly come across dead people. Craig gets the final barra and we say our goodbyes at Mataranka before driving home. But 3480ks is a long way to Sydney and the Zook does it tough to get there in one piece, especially when car things fail and the native wildlife get in the way.

Till then,
Rick (and Craig)


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## johnny

just wanted to be first to reply!very excellent stuff Rick...love it!


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## Davey G

wow...again. 
8)


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## garyp

Rick and Jungle - hats off again to you guys. Great read. I have no idea how you could possibly consider fishing after the first Croc - I seriously would have lost my sh*t!!

Thanks again for sharing with us and I am glad you both got home safe to your loved ones.

Cheers,

Gary


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## Baitman

Luvvin it!!


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## dru

Just amazing. What an amazing place. Bring on part 4!


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## Guest

:shock: :shock: :shock:

Scary shit..........I love reading your reports fellas, but at the same time I am seriously glad I am not out there with you! :lol:


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## Barrabundy

Good stuff fellas! I don't think I would have been capable of paddling after those encounters....also beginning to think 6 rounds isn't enough insurance against big reptiles.

I'm hoping the dead people are long dead traditional custodians in some long forgotten special place covered in art and not recently dead people who crashed their car or met with foul play.....waiting for the last instalment.


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## Dodge

Every episode is as good as the first fellers.


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## snapperz

When I see your name In trip reports Murd,I grab a coke,popcorn in the microwave and sit back and enjoy your report.I travelled to the Territory myself 6 years ago,people said to me "what are you going there for,nothing to see or do there?You have proven those people wrong.BTW you blokes must have the balls of a brahman bull.Awesome reading mate.SNAPPERZ


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## hardyaka

What an awsome trip and read
kayking croc infested rivers, thats a scary stuff :shock: :shock:


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## Nativeman

AWESOME !!


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## scater

wow


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## mustrumr

You know the saying, "I was on the edge of my seat"? Well, after reading your latest report I can say that the saying was literally true -by the end I was barely on the seat at all!

Magnificent report again, and the croc episodes were spine-chilling. Your first two reports had me thinking "wish I was there"; this one made me glad I wasn't. Major respect to both of you.

Cheers,


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## ARK

OH.....MY......GOD! :shock: Bring on the next bit!

Audrey


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## YakCult

What an excellent read guy's!
This superb report is very much appreciated - 
So good - I have slow down the reading towards the end, to make it last!!!


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## DougOut

Yup ..... what they've said! 
Great stuff guys.
Just thinking .... perhaps those crocs have never experienced being shot at before and therefore have no "real" fear 
of the sound made by powder and lead. Otherwise you'd think, one round close to the head would send them off. :shock: 
Similar to suburban Crows .... it used to be ..... one clap of the thongs and off they fly, 
but that rarely works these days, they just aint' being shot at today.


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## dunebuggy

I can't read so I just looked at the pictures. Loved the pictures!


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## dishley

dunebuggy said:


> I can't read so I just looked at the pictures. Loved the pictures!


Half the reason i don't add pics to my posts anymore, only the interested fishermen will read the whole thing.
Love the post Murd, give the rangers a break, they've got to deal with a fair bit of crap i reckon.


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## Grantos

Yet another impressive read, so well done, again.

ps. I do believe that if photo D is anything to go by, Junglefisher has you covered in the looks department. :lol:


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## seawind

I'm tempted to have you both charged with "Cruel and Unusual Punishment" It's far too long between episodes of this fantastic adventure. Thanks for sharing it with us.


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## PhilC

Another spectacular episode Rick!

Why is it that the big man eating critters never take an interest in you mate? ;-)

Bring on the next instalment!


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## CastAway

Awesome stuff guys! I love reading your adventures ... legendary!


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## worleybird

Hey guys,
great reports. No way I'd be taking on crocs. I kept reading the account of each croc and then amazed at the next words to be uttered, "then we pushed ON"!!!! no way. after that first croc I would have been heading back to camp!! I was hoping for some pics of these encounters though ;-) maybe you should have a camera mount on your rifles :lol: !!

For all those that freak about the odd shark we might see down south, this report should be inspiring/reassuring. When I see sharks it just makes me thankful that we don't have crocs here!! Sharks are beautiful animals and I'm quite excited to see them close up. Crocs are also awesome animals but I'm happy seeing them in pics and reading about them in reports like this (actually I'm not sure I really even enjoyed reading about them in this type of action!! :shock: )

looking forward to the next episode.

Stephen

p.s I wonder if national parks can track people down through akff?? :shock:


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## breamfish

HOLLY SHIT my heart was beating just reading the story. Excellent report can't wait for part 4.


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## saltysailor

how cool, wicked pics and a great write up, gets my daydreaming and aspirations going, well done


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## moysie

Wow,barra,jacks,man eating crocs and blowing up shit,what a trip carnt wait for part 4 !


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## yaktopia

^&$#ing magic read again...you guys are in some brilliant spots!


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## Seasquirt

Fantastic as always, magic stuff guys. I sit and read through like a book then read all again. Thanks so much for sharing your adventures.

I am sooooo glad you posted this before I lose my internet connection in a couple of days. Satellite wont be the same, that is IF we ever get it.

Cheers from a remote location .... apparently ?
Pam


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## spottymac

I HAVE LOVED EVERY PART OF YOUR TRIP,
IT HAS ALL of what we are all LOOKING FOR, AVENTURE , DANGER AND THE EXCITEMENT OF CATCHING A BIG FISH,
Well done its all happening up you end of the coast


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## cam07

great story glad yous got out of it im glad ive not been in that position im paranoid enough bout the crocs when ive been out with craig let alone up there


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## sunshiner

Top stuff. I too was enthralled by the croc attack imagery created by Murd's words. Thanks for taking the considerable time and effort to tell us about it.

Looking for Part 4...


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## BIGKEV

This has been one of the greatest trip reports I have ever read. It is inspirational in the fact that up till now I was sitting back thinking how good would this be. Out with a couple of mates camping, shoooting, and kayak fishing and then the crocs started getting angry....it was at this point that I thought to myself there is NO F#@*ing WAY I am ever going to do a trip like this. :shock: It's all yours boys, please don't let me read about you in the news.

Kev


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## murd

Thanks again for the comments fellow AKFFers. They are all appreciated.

This part was very difficult to write as I tried to recreate what happened without the Bull Shiza. Every experience paddling in crocodile infested waters is one of learning which helps me greatly when in the 'danger zone'. I learnt a lot from that afternoon in the COX River and will take that with me if/when I ever go back to the Gulf. I assume Craig learnt something too. Sure, these trips can be construed as being stupid and irresponsible:


> (we continued on...)


but its *100% no different to paddling* in the ocean with sharks about, especially GWS's. The only difference is the form of defence. Paddlers use a 'shark-shield' - i use a rifle (and would use a rifle in the ocean if the laws allowed it). 


moysie said:


> Wow,barra,jacks,man eating crocs and blowing up shit,what a trip carnt wait for part 4 !


I _loved _this comment from moysie! 

Cheers and I'll see yas in Part 4 to finish things off.
Rick


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## Big D

Awsome writeup again, but of note no comment from Craig yet on this one - I can just imagine if I was him sitting at the computer reading your bit about to add my bit when I get to the bit about the crocs, the Post Traumatic Stress kicks in and I end up sitting on the ground holding my knees up to my chin rocking backward and foward repeating out loud 'and we continued on' :lol: :twisted:


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## Junglefisher

lol BigD, I'm just being lazy.
I'll have to get cracking and add my 5c soon.


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## scater

murd said:


> its *100% no different to paddling* in the ocean with sharks about, especially GWS's. The only difference is the form of defence. Paddlers use a 'shark-shield' - i use a rifle (and would use a rifle in the ocean if the laws allowed it).


I think there's a difference. The ocean is a massive environment and this means a correspondingly smaller chance of encountering a shark, particularly an open water predator like a big Great White. You guys are knowingly putting yourselves in close proximity to big crocs. On top of this is the fact that crocs will attack for reasons other than hunger i.e. they are very territorial and in the case of a big female, can be protecting a nest. 
I don't mean this as an attack on you guys but you'd have to admit there's a bigger risk in the top end expedition than there is heading offshore. You've said often that you fully expect to be approached by crocs on every trip. How many of us would venture into deep water in our yaks if this were the case with sharks?
I'm impressed by your guts but having come so close to death, are you guys seriously not questioning the viability of such trips? I'd hate to think in years to come we'll be hearing about you boys on the news instead of through these enthralling reports.


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## Junglefisher

Well, it's been nearly a year, I guess I should have my say. Unfortunately I've lost my diary so I'm having to go on memory and Rick's report.

21/9/09 started with a nice walk upstream on the Wearyan, explored an old cable car set up, had a fish from the bank of a large pool and a bit of a swim. Drove to Borroloola. Ahhhhh, civilization! Bought some ice, had a genuine shower (I had forgotten how to use one and turned the hot water on then stepped under the water, lucky it wasn't scalding) and kicked back. An hour later, the boredom had set in and we went exploring the town. Wanted to do some shooting but couldn't  The smoked oysters and cheese sticks on snakatas went down a treat!














_High-class society luncheon it may not be, but after more than 2 weeks in the bush it was amazing how civilized it felt._

The next day, we headed off to the Limmen. This was the one I was looking forward too. Rick had caught a lot of fish here last year and we were hoping for a repeat performance. This was the worst bit of road we hit over the trip and had to keep the speed down due to patches of bulldust and potholes. We still managed to pass a car full of locals driving at NT pace. We had to make several detours around huge bulldust patches where there were obvious tracks through the bush where others had done the same. We stopped at the Southern Lost city, like a miniature bungle bungles and a great spot for a stop off.









_Rick chose to ignore the warning signs and although this was the worst road we drove on, it was certainly not as bad as I had feared._









_Spectacular place, well worth a visit._









_Can you see the face?_









_Camelot, Camelot, Camelot&#8230;&#8230;......._

Arriving at the Limmen, there were rocks placed to stop us camping where we wanted to be. Even without the rocks, I was unsure the Swift would be able to get in. After much discussion, we moved the rocks and drove in. The Suzuki got in just fine. We made the decision to set up a "full" camp, with the tarp seeing it's first use of the trip as there was little shade to be had here.






That afternoon we put our cherrabin pots in and headed downstream. We'd spotted a fishing line tied to a tree near the road crossing and a quick look showed it to be attached to a gold bomber, which I quickly appropriated. Trolling downstream it quickly accounted for a nice barra. After a few small portages we arrived at a very fishy looking rock bar. Rick mentioned that although this was a fishy looking spot, he'd never managed a barra from here. Not to be daunted I pulled up at the bar and started casting. Another barra soon made it's way to my feet, I was loving this river. Another barra was trolled up on the way back to camp, a nice few hours paddling 

The next morning the Rangers visited, they weren't happy we were there but agreed to leave us be after I gave the head ranger back his Gold bomber, telling him of the 3 barra it had caught the day before 









_A slightly sharked barra from the Limmen river._










Over the next 3 days, we did some marathon paddles getting all the way to the junction of Piker creek. On the way back I definitely lagged behind even though on the paddle down I'd had a croc "charge" me when I got too close to the drain it was holed up in on the bank. It was only a small croc, but a wake up call. The fishing was not much chop down that far though, I think too many boats make the trip up from the Limmen fishing camp or the Cox / Limmen camp. On that same trip, the wind really blew up as we turned around forcing us to pull up on the bank for a 1/2 hour or so until it died down, a good excuse for a lunch break.



















Most days we'd paddle in light breezes until we turned around then the wind would pick up and blow us home. This help was not to be under-estimated. Combined with less casting and often less fish on the troll, we'd usually get back in half the time it took us to get there. Rick would often push to go further, but I'd push to turn around not being sure we'd get back before dark. We always made it easily.


















_We caught a few Jacks, but barra were the main catch of this river._










On the last days paddling there, Rick really wanted a barra for dinner but no small ones were coming to the boat. As afternoon wore on, I hooked, fought and lost at least 6 barra, possibly more. I just couldn't get them in the yak. Finally I landed one around 70cm. Too big, but it would have to do. It went in the hessian bag for dinner. Suddenly I was able to land them with 2 or 3 more coming in before we got back. At the final fishing pool, I cast to a snag that had given up several barra before and hooked another nice one. Half way into the fight, it turned into a dead weight with only the front half of the barra hitting the surface. I'd been sharked. I'd also been sharked in this same spot on day one but that fish had escaped. This one was not so lucky. There was no point in releasing it so another 1/2 barra went into the hessian bag. This one would have been mid 70's I reckon. I cleaned and mangled (I mean filleted) them and Rick did the cooking. He'll make someone a great wife one day. Mmmm, crispy barra with plenty left over. I managed to work out a spot to catch cherrabin at last, but I had to check my pots every 1/2 hour or they would get out (or the freshies would get in).


















_The freshies would sit with their mouth open and the water rushing through it, just waiting for the touch of a fish to snap their jaws shut. Even though it looks bright in this photo, there was no moon at this point and it was pitch dark._






The next morning was time to pack up and head off, putting the rocks back before we left. This time I was a bit more careful of my back, the last effort had left me with a slight amount of lower back muscle soreness.

The nest campsite was on the Cox River (the subject of many jokes). I got a bit lost and had to backtrack about 20km (well, it felt like it at least) - not great when I was going to be pushing it for fuel later.
Last time Rick was here, it was a track and he had to clear his own site. This year, the Limmen fishing camp had cleared it all up and made several campsites, all with shade and plenty of wood piled up for campfires. We set up camp and messed around at the junction for the arvo, battling some huuuuge waves that had Rick's kayak looking to capsize at any moment. My rather larger yak was in it's element, unlike during the downriver trip on river X. Back to camp, we were soon bored and back to shooting things, eating cherrabin and generally messing about. Using cherrabin legs for bait, I managed to catch several bream at the rock bar. We also baited our pots with prime barra fillets but did not manage to catch any more cherrabin.









_Camping under the trees at the Cox River. Neither of us had to level the cars at this campsite, a unique event. We hung the garbage bag in a tree to try and discourage the crows. They still found it._









_The rock bar right near camp. Promised fish but only delivered a few bream on bait._









_Cherrabin heads (caught from further upstream)._









_The red cliffs of Limmen. An amazing natural feature._

The next morning we headed paddles around on the limmen again before heading upstream on the Cox. We'd gone about 500m when Rick started firing. "What's up?" I asked, thinking maybe he was just practising. "Croc" was his reply, instantly putting me on high alert. He had not shot it, merely putting some shots in the water to warn it off. We paddled off through some massively deep pools and shallow bars. As we came into one pool, I commented how deep it was. Suddenly something whacked my yak and soaked me with a splash. My first though was that Rick had hooked a barra and it had leapt right next to me. Turning madly, I dropped my paddle and grabbed the rifle when I saw that Rick was not onto a fish, rather he head his rifle out. Suddenly a head that looked 2m wide appeared about 3 or 4 metres from me, looking me straight in the eye. It stayed there for an eternity, maybe 2 or 3 seconds then submerged. I tried to put a shot into the water to keep it away but my gun would not fire. Jacking 3 or 4 rounds though the breech with the lever action it was just not firing. Rick put 2 rounds into the water - to make me feel better he later explained, once the croc had submerged he felt the danger had passed - before I realised my safety was on. I don't normally engage the safety, preferring to keep the breech empty, but somehow I'd put it on when cleaning the gun last night. With a Marlin 1894, the hammer still drops with the safety on so it was not immediately obvious what the problem had been. Later estimates based on the head size put this croc at 4-5m long, a significant danger to a person.
With my heart hammering and my mouth dry we kept paddling. A short while later Rick started firing again. Asking him what was up, he pointed out a croc quite a way away, but heading straight at me. Pulling my rifle, I added to the warnings, not aiming at the croc but trying to shoot as close as possible, not easy at that distance from a yak. After 2 shots from me and about 4 from Rick, it submerged and we continued on. The fishing to this point had sucked. We kept on, seeing more crocs, although none that gave us any grief. Up near the causeway, I managed to hook 3 good fish, landing exactly none of them then it went quiet again. After reaching the causeway, I realised we now had to go back past those crocs again.
On the paddle back to camp, I noticed Rick hooked up to a fish. As I drifted along watching him, I drifted close to the left bank. Suddenly a huge explosion of water occurred just metres away from me and I jerked round to see a large (4m) croc (probably the one that had headed straight at me earlier as it was the same spot) launch from a side drain straight at me. I panicked, my heart raced then I realised it was not charging me, but trying to escape me. In my inattention, I'd got between it and the main river, much like I'd done with a smaller croc several days before. Rick landed the small barra and we continued on. 
Coming to the spot where I'd been "bumped", Rick caught another barra trolling along a steep bank. He turned around and fished the same bank again and again, landing 4 or 5 barra from the same spot. I was pretty spooked and my lure was not working well in this spot (I tended to use large, medium diving gold lures and Rick went more for small, shallow diving coloured lures) so I took a break from the yak and explored a rock bank for a bit.
We were nearly back at camp; the rock bar in sight when there was a massive commotion on the bank with trees and bushes being knocked over as something went nuts. Suddenly a 4-5m croc launched off the bank and into the water, getting himself airborne in his hurry. The croc landed and immediately submerged. Suddenly it popped up about 5m behind Rick. I would have shot it there and then if I'd had a clear shot, as it was I had to settle for alerting Rick to where it was. It looked at us for 5 seconds or so then fully submerged again. Rick explained that this croc was not "charging" us; it was fleeing to the water to escape us. We agreed that it was probably the croc that Rick had fired up slightly upstream from this point earlier. 5 minutes later, we were back at camp and dragging the yaks up the hill. At 6pm as I was cooking dinner I checked my pulse. It was still going at 120bpm, no wonder I was exhausted! I suspect it had hit 200 a few times during the day. Rick wanted to fish the Cox again the next day, he'd had a good days fishing and seemed to enjoy the crocs. I however was not of the same opinion and asked that we stick to our original plan of leaving for the Roper the next morning.









_Water flowing under the limestone rocks of the rock bar._









_Sunset over the Cox River. A spectacular place that will live in my memories forever._


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## murd

Craig, a sensational writeup and great photos and video. Now I know why I love the place so much! I never actually realised how affected you were by that monster saltie in the Cox - hard to see any emotion behind that 'ZZ Top' beard of yours.



Junglefisher said:


> he'd had a good days fishing and seemed to enjoy the crocs


Funnily, I do enjoy the crocs and what's a trip to the Gulf in a kayak without a brown trousers moment?  As you know things are happening later this year and it's a shame you couldn't be a part of it as the sequel is always bigger and better. Stay tuned.

Rick


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## breamfish

Great Report Junglefisher

I reckon i could see why your heart would be racing with a 5m croc bumping you :shock: :shock:

Thanks


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## Brc226

What a fantastic read, I almost felt like I was there. Man I love the NT but I am not sure I would have the guts to to do a trip like this in kayaks. Congratulations guys and thanks for sharing your experiences.


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## RedPhoenix

Unfortunately, due to the change in ownership of this web site and the lack of response by the owners to my requests to remove my email address from all administrative-level notifications and functionality, I have decided to remove my posts on AKFF. Thank you for the great times, the fantastic learning experiences and the many many fish. If you are desperate for the old content of this particular post, it is available below base64 encoded and bzip2 compressed.

Red.

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QlpoOTFBWSZTWUv8l/oAAAnfgAAQQKUACAAgEAA379+gIABqIptJ6m1NGTQ9Ro9TyhEZT1HtSB6h6g0CJCEPQeQ15fVWNpTW1yLrewaHBlJDabv4zZgFEr5bWTobbKw9+I3vQj7ihUrMDFp4HAuRXjcESyyEUuP4u5IpwoSCX+S/0A==


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## cam07

great read craig, i wont try the firing thingy at home hehehe i showed tam the report i think im no longer allowed fishing


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## paulo

Now thats waht I call an adventure. Fish all day, sleep where you stop and always keep one eye over your shoulder in case something is hunting you!! :shock: Not sure I have the requisite sized cobblers to do a trip like that. 
Great report and sensational photos.


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