Day 30 - A Sweet Slide Down the Bitter Springs

Sunday, 28 June 2021

Abby loves crocodiles. She had one wrapped around her neck once, at the wildlife park where they were extra-safety-sure to wrap a guard around the critter’s mouth. But wild crocs are a different story. They’re kind of a 4-letter word to the ears of a wary 11-year-old. So we try to refrain from using the c-word around the young ones.

The four of us arrive at Bitter Springs, a popular place to bring your floating devices, step down the ladder into the ultra-clear blue-black warm pool and let the current carry you down to the next set of ladders, which is about a 10-15 minute ride. If you don’t get too relaxed, you can just manage to pull yourself up, walk back to the start, and do it all over again!

That’s what we did – eventually. When Abby first got her toes wet, she was a bit concerned about the “Crocodile Safety” signs in the carpark. Are there crocodiles here? she asked, hesitant to walk further. Nah, we adults confirmed, there wouldn’t be so many people here if there were crocodiles about.

Still, Abby wasn’t convinced. She saw the pool full of noodle-hanging people. She sees her granddad and his two friends get in. So eventually she gets in, then gets out, then gets in again. We form a ring-of-three around her and she sits on a knee so her toes don’t have to touch the sandy bottom. There are also rocks and dead logs down there and who knows what’s lurking under them.

I suggest we do a group float down the canal, see where it ends up. No way! It's enough to make her want to get out again. But instead we hang for a bit, enjoying the warm bath. Abby gets more comfortable. Eventually she asks whether we can float down the canal to the other end. Sure!

For me, despite the throngs of noodle-waving noisy floaters, lying on my back, allowing the slow soft current to drag me along, the sun stripling through a canopy of tropical trees, intricate webs of giant spiders glistening in the light – I’m in momentary bliss. But there’s always the concern of bumping your head into a fellow swimmer -- or worse, getting kicked in the head by one -- so I look up and see a flotilla of noodle-hanging tourists floating straight at me. Yikes! Pay attention! No time for reverie!

I get to the end and Abby’s sitting comfortably on the stairs. I grab her ankles and smile big, You made it! Woohoo!! Let’s do it again, she squeals. You want to?

So down we float again, after which we’re all so relaxed we’re not sure whether we can move forward with the day. But Abby and granddad Kurt are on their way south, and we have a 2-night booking at a caravan park in Katherine. So we hug goodbyes and set off down the highway in separate directions.

Photos courtesy of Kurt Zinc

When we arrive in Katherine, it occurs to me that setting up camp in a crowded, shoulder-to-shoulder campground with a bad cough is not a good idea in the midst of a COVID-frenzy, currently plaguing Australia. Darwin’s in lockdown and it looks like travelers intending to make that their destination for the weekend have holed up in Katherine. The town’s crawling in caravans.

I call the Katherine hospital to find out where I might get a COVID test. I seriously doubt I have it, but what I do have is four out of the eight symptoms they outline on the government COVID site. What to do? The patient woman on the other end of the line suggests getting a test might be a good idea. But she can’t help with that. I need to call the COVID hotline.

I wait for 20-minutes on the COVID hotline – apparently the “nation-wide outbreak” is causing the higher-than-usual volume of calls they’re currently receiving – and the very pleasant, very patient young woman who eventually answers hears my story, agrees that it might be a good idea to get tested – but she can’t help with that. I need to Google “test site near me” and see where I can go to get tested in Katherine. Oh and it might take a few days to get an appointment, and then up to 3 days to get results, and oh, during those three days, you’ll need to isolate yourself, basically from everyone, including your family.

Patience. That’s what I’m gleaming from my interlocutors this afternoon. I Google “test site near me” but my phone thinks I’m in Sydney so what it comes up with is not helpful. I check my Settings. “Location” is checked. Don’t know why the phone can’t figure out that I’m not in Sydney but the northern Northern Territory.

The story goes on. It’s not worth dribbling on about. We’ve all been there, the wild goose chase through technology and bureaucracy, the time-suck, the headache … the impatience that ensues.

I sit down in my sundowner chair. I think I won’t get a COVID test, I say. May be time for a beer? Johan suggests. Hmmm. Sounds good.