Days after returning from Timor, I threw my scuba gear into an untidy pile in the spare room and rummaged through cupboards (and fridge) for my camping gear. From ocean to terrestrial adventures – we’re off to Bilkbilkmi (Graveside Gorge), Kakadu NP.

A rather unfortunate name, I thought, for such a stunning destination – apparently there is Chinese grave somewhere in the gorge. But this doesn’t put us off. Somehow, and quite unintentionally, I’ve become the group leader: rather amusing since I’ve never been there nor led a walk. Undeterred, I swing in to action (friends who know me can vouch for my well-honed organisational skills) and get a permit, a google earth map which marks our destination, hire a satellite phone and arrange for a place to stay in Jabiru to break-up the 5 hour drive. One enthusiastic ‘morning person’ suggested a 5am start on Saturday (think get up at 4am). Appalled, I was quick to find an alternative and persuasively argue my case. I am not a morning person.

You might be intrigued by my reference to the fridge as a storage facility for camping gear. The hot, steamy tropical conditions are not kind to tents, or shoe glue for that matter (read on). Within 12 months of arrival, the fly of my trusty, 15 year old nautilous tent was sticky and clearly in decline. I didn’t want the same fate to befall my brand spanking new 1 person tent, a special birthday present last year. Long time Darwinites advised hanging it up in a room with the AC on. Not wishing to contribute more to climate change than I already do, I store it instead in the fridge, along with my bikini – the next best thing.

The Sergison girls have reassembled for this trip, minus E, who couldn’t quite see herself hiking in 3km with her 2 year old (wise move), plus 4 friends. Two are long term Darwin residents who know the area well and meet us there. It’s quite a journey – 3 hours to Jabiru Friday evening, up at 7am, 30 minutes to the turnoff and then a 2 hour drive along a 4WD track. On arrival, seeking to inspire confidence as group leader, I pull out my map and compass. It’s been 25 years or so since I learnt map reading, and I’m a little embarrassed to find I’ve forgotten quite how it works. Not to worry – looks straightforward, and B had the foresight to download a map/gps ap.

Reassured that we’re starting in the right spot

Following the creek, we pass grevilleas dripping with nectar – the air has a heavy, sweet smell and the ground is saturated with sticky sap.

After rock hopping across the creek, P finds some pink flagging tape and a faint path which seems to be heading in the right direction. I’m a little anxious – paths can go anywhere – but the odd check with the gps confirms we’re not lost. Up through the spinifex, down a rocky hillside and a beautiful waterhole appears. After lunch and a swim, we find the camping site just meters away, with a sense of relief.

Then we relax – lying on the rocks gazing at the clouds, reading, swimming in the clear deep water. Thinking about nothing. As I watch the clouds the breeze picks up and the air suddenly fills with something small and light. Leaves, collected from somewhere else, flutter through the sky. A few moments and they are gone, the invisible force of the wind swirling them up the hill and away. That evening a fire, sharing of stories and the moon shining brightly through our tents as it rises in the early morning.

The next day we walk along the gorge a little – we’ve all agreed that strolling/swimming is in order, rather than strenuous walks up steep-sided gorges. K is a botanist, and he and L have already disappeared, off in search of a plant at the very top of the hill. We discover a cool side gully, vines creeping up the rocks and slowly running water – just like a fairy glen.

In the afternoon, S, C and I swim in a rock pool, chatting about the art of a good roast and how to cater for unexpected guest when you’re living in a remote Aboriginal community. Later we gather round the fire, sharing damper and chocolate.

A side story on shoes. Somehow on the walk, B lost both soles on her boots. A top end bushwalking hazard – glue also deteriorates in the heat. S happened to pick up one of them walking in, and carefully stowed it away, wondering who it belonged to. Walking out, we stopped to catch our breath at the top of the hill, and B glanced over and spied – her second sole!  Amazing !  A bit of duct tape (an essential item for the walking kit here) rendered her shoes functional again.

A great long weekend and good company. Peaceful and rejuvenating – your whole being lets out a deep sigh, breathes in the bush and relaxes.