We wake to more bad COVID news from back home; another cases yesterday, and theres now talk of the lockdown being extended for at least the next two weeks. The prospect of going home and being locked up in the cold and gloom is not feeling all that attractive, so we start to discuss the possibility of extending our stay up here in the warm sunny north west of our vast land. Our credit cards are just about maxed out, so we might need to buy a tent and camp on the beach; well we would be able to if the the beach wasnt closed; something about crocodile sightings.
We spend the morning looking at various extension options and then head a few kilometres out of town to the Malcolm Douglas Crocodile Park. Douglas was once a professional crocodile hunter, but later became a wildlife filmmaker and passionate crocodile conservationist. He established the park in 1983. We enter through a very overly large crocodile mouth. Issy poses for a picture standing inside it, and then also sitting on the realistic statue of another slightly more normal size croc lying on the ground next to it. As we heard
last night, Issys mum seems to be under the impression that were at risk of getting eaten by a croc just by walking down the street here, and was insisting that straight home on the next available flight. I hope theres a defibrillator handy if someone slips up and shows her any of these snaps before we get back.
First cab off the rank at the Park is the Long Lake which were told is home to seventy massive saltwater crocs. They were apparently all born here as part of one of Douglas experiments to see whether theyd still be quite so territorial if they all grew up together. Apparently theyre not, but theres still a pecking order, and if a croc was introduced from outside the rest of them would quickly tear the intruder limb from limb. I wonder how they know this. I hope its not because they tried it and thats what happened. There are lots of other crocs here in much smaller enclosures, often, it seems, for their own protection. One grumpy old male is by himself now because he ate the last two girlfriends they put in with him. Were told
that crocs are usually the apex predator, but our guide seems particularly concerned about the seemingly inevitable drift of cane toads into the Kimberley. These are apparently very toxic to crocs, and even a relatively small meal of these pests can kill a younger croc quite quickly.
This story wasnt on the tour, but the ever reliable Wikipedia claims that in 2010 a croc named Fatso bit a Melbourne man after he climbed into its enclosure at the Park one night and tried to sit on its back.... as you do. Perhaps unsurprisingly this happened after hed been evicted from the local pub after seemingly having had one too many beers. Fatso tore a chunk out of the mans leg, but he apparently managed to escape, the man that is. Did he call an ambulance? No of course he didnt; he just went back to the pub. The publican noticed that half his leg was missing, so ordered him a beer, and then called the ambulance. Only in Australia..
Our friends Peter and Teresa arrived here in their caravan yesterday. The caravan parks and all the overflows were full, so they spent their first night here not here
at all, but rather about thirty or so kilometres back up the road towards Derby. None of the parks are taking bookings, so they then had to turn up at 8am at a park in town and wait in a queue to see if anyone was checking out. Fortunately they got very lucky and managed to get in. This is all very consistent with everything weve been hearing about the whole town bursting at the seams, mostly with Aussies whod be holidaying overseas if it wasnt for COVID. We meet up with Peter and Teresa at the weekly night market at Town Beach. There are all the usual offerings of food stalls, handicrafts and clothes, with a bit of live music thrown in. Its very pleasant, and clearly very popular.
