​After Katherine, I decided to head over to the west coast, and booked a bus to Broome. I’d done a minimal amount of research: beach ✅, food ✅, place to stay ✅, and decided sure, why not? I had to check out of the hotel at 10 am, and the bus didn’t leave Katherine until 8:10 pm. That’s a lot of time to kill in a town that small. Thankfully, the weather conspired to my benefit, and it was cloudy and relatively cool for most of the day. I spent a few hours on a bench under a tree, reading, a few more slooooowly savoring a chicken lunch at a Red Rooster (the spicy chicken was quite good, possibly negating my earlier comment about Aussies and spicy food) and reading, and the rest of the time at, yet another bench in the shade – you guessed it – reading. I’d thought to spend some time in an air conditioned bar, but, apparently they are closed on Sundays, at least along Katherine’s two-traffic-light main street, they are.

The bus ride was 20+ hours. Sounds daunting, but in actuality, wasn’t terrible. It definitely was better than a cut-rate economy flight for comfort. The seat wasn’t bad, though it didn’t recline as much as a train seat, and didn’t quite have the same legroom. But, I had no seatmate, and was able to sprawl across two. The bio breaks were a fairly daunting 6-hours apart though, tough on a old-man bladder.

Pulling into Broome, and my AirBnB host was there to meet me and give me a ride to the house. That was nice, and totally above and beyond. Hilary has been the best host so far in my journeying. Her dog Tex is a lovable idiot, and she is greatly accommodating and just a great person. She made me dinner! Her place is about 1.75 km from the shopping area, which isn’t far, and I get to walk past the airport, which is always fun.

I did a wander around the peninsula, painful hip notwithstanding, and had an enjoyable day doing so. I absorbed the history of the area’s pearl industry, its painful experiences in WWII, and marveled at the natural beauty of the beaches and rocks. And I ticked a few more bird-boxes on my life list. Last night, I got to see the “Staircase of the Moon” where the (in my case nearly) full moon rises over a low tide in the bay, creating a sharp reflection. My phone didn’t do it even a modicum of justice.

I’m here for a few more days, then… I’m not sure. I’ve a plan, but it’s pending a visa, and I’ve a Plan B if it doesn’t come through in time. Stay tuned, and in the meantime, enjoy the poor representatives of what I got to see with my very own failing eyes.

And not in a good way either. When I arrived, I had planned to take at least one day of touring and see the (at least Australia-wide) famous Katherine Gorge, viewing it by foot, canoe/kayak or, if I was feeling really flush, taking the evening dinner cruise, that I’d been told has the best light. (True. any photog will tell you that the best lighting is during the crepuscular hours.) Heck, in a fit of craziness, I’d even contemplated doing a heli-tour. I’ve never been in a helicopter, so this seemed to be a good way to get that ticked off the list.
 
Off I toddled to the visitor center, where all the fantastical adventures could be mine to have – for the right price. After perusing the various brochures on the wall, fiscal frugality emerged dominant, and I selected a four hour foot tour. It was the same price as ten minutes in a helicopter. I get to the counter, pay the fees, and asked where I catch the tour. I figured it can’t be far from my hotel, because, frankly, nothing is far in town from my hotel. The agent said she’d give me directions to where I’d meet them, and that it was only a 30-minute drive.
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               “Um, what?”
               “Yeah, all tours start from there. It’s not hard to find.”
               “I don’t have a car. Is there a bus or anything that goes out there?”
               “Not really. There might be a taxi or something that’ll go, but that’ll be more than the tour, and you’ll have to get back as well. Or you can book a hotel room out there for the night.”

She added the last with a hopeful smile. Yeah. no.
 
Well. That’s something. I figured there was a strong possibility I could find a ride back with someone, but that’s not guaranteed, and I really didn’t want to get stranded out there, where a hotel room, if even available, is about $250/night.
 
Reluctantly, I said I couldn’t go, and needed a refund. At the POS, the refund went swimmingly. On my Apple Wallet, though, the refund is showing as a second charge. Two conversations with the people at the other end of…somewhere have netted me nothing but assurances that they see it as a credit and not a charge. I’ll probably be revisiting that conversation when all the charges for the month settle out.
 
And so I am here in a town that rolls up the sidewalks on a Friday night before 9:00 pm, and the two bars I’ve been in (there is a third) are cash-only. I mean this place is really not much more than a fueling opportunity and wide spot along the Stuart Highway where it intersects the Victoria Highway. If you’re driving between Adelaide and Darwin, or, if you’re in the mood, making a turn toward sunset and going to Broome, stopping to get fuel here is a good idea, I suppose. Stopping and staying? Not so much.
 
On the bright side, I did get a run in (aggroed my hip somehow, though) and flushed out a couple of wallabys, and in my hobbles around town afterward, I did get to knock out another 8 species of birds on my life list. Trying to photograph them is difficult regardless, without a long lens. Now I wish I’d brought my digital along. Also, it’s a challenge to take a decent photo when a dozen flies are crawling in my ears and up my nose. A beekeeper’s bonnet would be swell. And I’ve gotten to rather enjoy AFL. What a wild game.
 
I hop a bus this evening for Broome; since it doesn’t leave until late and I’m outta my room at 10 am, I’m going to be skipping from AC to AC around town. In situations like this, I’m happy my baggage is (relatively) easy to carry around.  Even so, I think my stay here was about one day too long.

First impressions of Katherine? She’s not the prettiest of towns, but then, she’s not got a lot to work with, being on the precarious edge between the tropical north and the desert south. She doesn’t quite have the lush growth of the north, but has the humidity, and doesn’t quite have the stark beauty of the desert of the south, but has the heat. Kind of a lose-lose in that particular situation.

When I stepped off the bus, it was 100F/38C and it felt humid to me. Not on the level of Darwin or Cairns, but enough to make the temperature significantly sticky. It looked to be a short walk to the hotel (Stuart Hotel/Motel), which has an address on the main drag. However, the entrance is around the corner, and down the block on Warburton Street. I don’t recall seeing that street name in any communications from the hotel after reserving. So what should have been a short, 5 minute walk in the heat of the day with backpack and frontpack, turned into a 30 minute back-and-forth, around the block sweat-odyssey. But, I did find the room, and it’s…nice. I have a kitchenette with microwave, coffee gear and a fridge. And plates/silverware.

I dropped my crap, er, stuff, and headed out to see what was happening. I heard loud music emanating from the place next door, so that was going to be me first stop. What I thought was a DJ and recorded music turned out to be an emcee and karaoke! Whomever was singing when I entered was killing it. The next few? Well, let’s just say the first one was the best – by far. I sidled up to the bar, and noticing Victoria Bitter in cans seemed to be what was everywhere, asked for one. $5 AUD isn’t bad compared to prices in Darwin, and it was nice and cold. Sat down and looked around.

It slowly dawned on me. I was the only white person in the place, other than some staff. Every patron was indigenous. I felt conspicuous and out of place. I figured to slam the beer and go. A man approached, stuck out his hand and said, “How are ya, mate?” I shook it, we smiled, and he kept on. My out of place feeling was abated, and I stayed for several more songs (all sung rather badly, to be honest), and when my beer ran out, so did I. I then made my way to a sports bar down the street (Kirby’s), and a similar situation played out, except it was $5 schooners of XXXX lager. I don’t know if there are no white people in Katherine – other than in Woolworth’s grocery – but they were not in the bars I visited at the time I did. One notable image in Kirby’s was the Von Miller Denver Broncos jersey. Ah, nostalgia!

Saw my first real road trains rumbling through town. The longest had four trailers, and calculating the axles and wheels, I came up with a total of 98 tires on that monster. Makes me wonder how many spares the driver has?

Tomorrow is an early morning run, then I think I’ll continue exploring the town, and book a tour to the gorge for Saturday. I leave on Sunday, and I think the time spent poking Katherine will be time well spent. When is something like that not?