Tom's (attempted) Ride Around Australia: Oenpelli

After having a welcome rest in Darwin, I felt mentally and physically prepared to tackle the coming hurdles. My plan was to peddle through the Kakadu National Park with gusto to avoid back-tracking and to avoid some of the heavy traffic that the main highway held. I wanted to ride fast as time was starting to run short if I hoped on arriving home close to Christmas. But like all good plans, things didn't work out quite the way I had intended, and I spent more time then hoped.
Not long after leaving Darwin, I was informed that the 'Stone-Country Festival' was being held in Oenpelli, West Arnhem Land. The timing was perfect and I was very enthusiastic and privileged to take part in a traditional festival that allows non-indigenous people to enter Arnhem Land without a permit - the only time of the year.

I awoke on Saturday the 25/8/12 full of excitement for a spectacular sunrise. But it was not my alarm clock that woke me from my slumber, but the sound of sniffing and rustling from within my tent. I sat up in fright to find myself looking at the head of a dingo sticking its head under the fly of my tent, probably looking for food. It seemed that the dingo could not see me through the mesh of my inner tent wall, so I sent him running in the opposite direction which a loud "BOOO!!!!" I couldn't help myself.
I was camping in some bushes on the out-skirts of Jabiru, and so packed quickly to cross the 50 odd km sealed road to the Arnhem Land border - the East Alligator River. The river was named as such by the early explorer Phillip Parker King, who mistook the crocodiles for alligators. His journal humorously read "On our course up and down the river, we encountered several very large alligators and some were noticed sleeping on the mud. This was the first time we had seen these animals... and they appeared to be very numerous and large, it was not thought safe to stop all night up the river". Believe me this man was right! When I arrived at the river crossing brimming with excitement the wind was sucked right out of me when I noticed a group of people gawking at a water buffalo carcass slowly floating down the river... and what should be hanging on to it with powerful jaws, but five or six rather large salt-water crocodiles! I was then forced to sit and watch this commotion with growing anxiety as the tide was still too high for me to cross.
When the tide had finally fallen low enough to reveal my passage through the river, I wasted no time in asking people to keep an eye on the crocs while I walked my bike through, with water rushing just over my knees. I think they were as nervous as I was. But all went to plan and I emerged on the other side in one piece. I didn't know it at the time, but this was my first crocodile infested river-crossing of many.
Now I realize that I have said this a few times before in this blog, but the scenery in Arnhem Land was perhaps the most stunning yet! The road was dirt and corrugated, the rivers and wet-lands were brimming with the busy lives of all manor of creatures, the sun was beating down and the hills and rock formations were outstanding. Heaven on Earth.
People stopped in surprise as they found me cycling through this rugged wilderness with a grin on my face.
When I arrived in Oenpelli I was very dirty due to the dust from vehicles settling on my sweaty skin. Much to my surprise, I was approached by a white man named Tim, who was a teacher at the local school. He was incredibly friendly and offered me a safe place to store my bike, a jug of cold water, and a blessed cold shower. Lucky lucky lucky!
On first appearance the town looked run-down and shabby. The aboriginals seemed very weary and hostile towards me and the other alien white people examining their home like it were a zoo. It must have been an overwhelming experience for them too. But unlike some of the other white visitors, I tried my best to break the fences between our cultures, and took the time to ask them questions, compliment their home, laugh with them, try their food (barramundi, duck, pig etc. cooked in a coal pit) and even join in a traditional aboriginal dance. In doing this I learned a great deal, I made some truly special friendships and I had an absolute ball doing so.
So for a few short days I was privileged to experience practising aboriginal culture first hand. Two particularly good friends that I made, Johnston and Patsy, tried teaching me some of their language (Kunwinjku), invited me to sit with their family (extended extended family) in the front yard of their house, and even offered me some original aboriginal art that usually sells for a high price as a gift. Unfortunately I had to refuse the art work as they were painted on solid wood and I could not carry such objects safely down bumpy roads, through rivers-crossings and 7,000km's home. Johnson was very proud to inform me that he owns a mobile phone, and we exchanged numbers. I really hope to meet him again some day.
We visited the local pub (only selling low-alcohol beer), where I played pool with the young boys, who I found very shy. But once I was talking with one young man, the flood-gates were opened and they were all very chatty and had as many questions for me as I did for them. Local bands then played late into he night on a stage set up on the football field, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were very talented.
I set up my tent on the edge of the billabong and woke for the best sunrise I had ever seen. It was like a post card. I will upload the photos, but please note that they do not do it justice.
My experience with the Gunbalanya people had been one of the best in my life. It felt like when I crossed the East Alligator River I had crossed an ocean into a far, remote country unlike anything I had experienced. I truly was privileged, and I will have the memories to keep.