30 March 2013 - Kakadu Lodge & Caravan Park, Jabiru, Northern Territory

It is official! To quote today’s NT News, “ It was a case of better late than never as the long awaited wet season finally arrived yesterday”. Apparently any rain that fell before yesterday did not count, however there is truly a difference in the feel, the weight, the persistence and the whole experience of the arrival of the monsoon as opposed to just another rainy day.

We have all seen films of Indians and the like welcoming the long awaited rains, running out of their houses and turning their faces to the heavens in thanksgiving, children dancing delightedly in the deepening puddles and an attractive soul standing rain sodden with every curve of their body on display and a wide beaming smile upon their face. Here it is not quite as romantic but still an experience to be enjoyed. And so we are still here in Jabiru “enjoying” the rain. Yesterday 28 mm reportedly fell, today in the seven and a half hours since 9 am this morning, we had 52 mm here in Jabiru.  Currently the relative humidity is 95 percent, the thermometer is on 25 degrees and feels like 30 degrees. We have been more comfortable today temperature wise than we have been since passing through Charleville.

It rained steadily all through the night, audible every time I woke although not as deafening as we have experienced before. I had split and shared an antihistamine tablet with Chris last night, so woke feeling rather drugged but less troubled by itch than other mornings. In fact the red rawness of the multitude of bite wounds over my legs and arms had subsided significantly. Thank goodness!

But in that semi drugged state, just after 8 am, the thought of packing up camp in the pouring rain was not attractive. I suggested to Chris that we request a late departure and hope the rain abated long enough at some stage of the morning for us to rush about packing up hoses and hitching up. Checking the weather report online, I saw that tomorrow was to be no better and the thought of spending mega-bucks on a breakfast river cruise to be taken in the blinding rain did not appeal either to my sensibilities or my wallet. I suggested we stay and sit the rain out here and travel down to Cooinda on the morrow. Monday morning might offer better conditions.

I popped over to the office just before 10 am to pay for yet another day, thankful that the Park’s pass is for fourteen days rather than twenty four or forty eight hours as are some. The beautiful grassed grounds of the park were already ankle deep in water, like rice paddies and the roads just flowing rivers, but cleaner than those we had waded through yesterday.

I told the girl at the desk about us having gone into the Gubara Pools yesterday afternoon and told her of our experience. She then told me how a couple of tourists had gone swimming there yesterday afternoon, one becoming stranded on the other side of the Burdulba Creek. Eventually she attempted to make her way back through the flash flood, the very same we had observed the beginning of and left in self-preservation. She was washed down the river but rescued by yet another walker who lost his wallet and keys in the exercise. Thank goodness no lives were lost. Stupid tourists! This story came as no surprise to us and we were so glad we had returned to the vehicle when we did.

About an hour later, there was a break in the rain and we darted out and put the awning up, something we should have done when we first arrived, however we were planning  to leave the next morning. We now had a porch to pause under and divest ourselves of umbrellas and footwear before coming in to the caravan, however our 'porch” floor is ankle deep in water. The awning is erected so that it slopes down on one side; no more puddling of the awning as we foolishly allowed in Darwin. Now the water streams directly down the rope guide to add to the gathering lake all about us.

The frogs are still at it, last night seeming more like a barking, today much more like hacksaws, but still invisible. Every now and again they pause to rest their voices before resuming with renewed vigour.

Late morning when there was again a short break in the weather, we popped into Jabiru and picked up the local paper. We had thought to buy fresh bread at the supermarket, a reasonably sized unattractive store which leaves the art of bread making to the Jabiru Bakery up the road. We went there instead and picked up an over priced “French loaf” which turned out very un-French but quite tasty all the same; a change from our usual fare of cheap supermarket sliced bread. We were soaked again by the time we returned. The break was all too short.

Several new parties of campers with their camper trailers had arrived yesterday, possibly from Darwin or Katherine, to spend the long Easter weekend away from it all. This morning most packed up and headed home again. Most returning to Darwin should have been able to get through, although water is reportedly across the road at Corroboree.

At lunch time I discovered we have another problem; ants. Small dark busy hungry ants of the kind we have had before. Our ant baits are rather obsolete so we shall have to wait until we get through to Katherine before we buy some more. The supermarket in Jabiru probably has them, at a price, however there is unlikely to be a greater infestation while we are parked above our own personal wetland.

Given that I have been caravan bound all afternoon, I took over kitchen duties from my husband and have prepared a fish pie for dinner, something he cannot be bothered to make. He does not do flour but may learn to use it when we eventually settle down now we are retired and he is chief cook. Or maybe not.