ARNHEM LAND Part 1

As usual, I have created a newsletter to cover my recent trip to Arnhem Land so if you haven't already read it, it will follow in three parts.

Arnhem Land Newsletter

Outback Spirit Tour, August-September 2026

Some of you have already explored parts of Arnhem Land but for those who haven’t, let me save you having to ask Google AI about it with a brief summary. 

Arnhem Land is 97,000 square kilometres, about the same size as Portugal or Hungary. Its total population is only 16-17,000 people most of whom are Yolŋu (east) or Bininj (west) Traditional Owners. The biggest town, Nhulunbuy, has a population of 3,600 people. And in just one part of this area, North East Arnhem Land, 40-60 languages and dialects are spoken plus more that have been lost. And these people live in a world where much of the land is flooded for 3-4 months a year during the wet season.

I used to say that the 800km drive north from Karratha to Broome where you see just two buildings was desolate but the 420km drive that took 10 hours from Nhulunbuy to the Murwangi Safari Camp comes a good second with:

• Two trucks going east
• Two utes overtaking us
• 1 water buffalo
• 1 dingo
• 1 telecommunications tower.

The last 45km took over 2 hours to drive with not another car to be seen.

 

Overall, we covered about 1,100km of dirt roads and as some of you know, it took its toll….on Susan at least. One particularly huge bump on a deeply corrugated road caused her shin to crash into the bus’s footrest. We were about three hours from anywhere and as we kept driving, Outback Spirit had to solve the problem. Eventually, the manager of Davidson’s Safari Lodge drove for over an hour to meet the bus and take Susan to Oenpelli . Seven stitches put paid to her plans for floating in safari camp pools or swimming in the water holes of Litchfield Park. She is the most stoical of creatures so she coped and still went out for hikes whenever they weren’t too arduous.

 

My response to this landscape, of Tropical Savannah Woodlands, is probably much like the poor British soldiers sent to try and establish settlements in the first half of the 19th Century. What are we doing here? This land isn’t for us. It’s so harsh - either dry or burning or flooded. And regardless of how beautiful the Arafura Sea might look with its turquoise tones or how attractive the waterholes surrounded by water lilies might be, they are inaccessible because of crocodiles and, in the case of the ocean, poisonous jelly fish.

One is in deep admiration of the indigenous people of this land because they have learnt how to use every single bush and tree in the landscape for food, water and medicine. There are really only three main trees in this world - Paperbark, Stringybark and Woolly Butt - and each of them offers multiple uses. For example, the Paperbark tree provides bedding, canoes, cooking ovens, carrying implements, and anti-inflammatory oils used to bandage cuts, soothe insect bites, and treat congestion. I just think of those poor sods in the longest lasting (11 years) British settlement at Port Essington on the Cobourg Peninsula who had no such knowledge and dug a well under a Coral Wood tree (or it might have been a Rosary Pea vine) which dropped poisonous red seeds into their water. They finally listened to the local people and built a cover for the well.

 

The interactions between the various visitors to this land ranged from the comparatively equal (the Macassan fishermen trading technology for trepang) to the outright murderous. We stayed at Murwangi Lodge which used to be Florida/Arafura Station where there is evidence that the indigenous people were systematically hunted and killed in the early 20^th century. Most cattle farms failed in the same way that the British settlements failed but  then along came the bauxite miners in the 1960s. This had a somewhat better outcome for the indigenous people when bark petitions sent to the Australian Parliament led to the recognition of sacred sites and the eventual granting of land rights.

As well attempting to take over the land, we Balanda (the Yolngu word for white people) also introduced animals that destroy the landscape. For example, every time one of those British settlements failed, they left behind horses, cattle and water buffalo, all hoofed animals that churn up the waterways. Ironically, there is an abundance of Banteng cattle in the Garic Gunak Barlu National Park (including the one that interrupted our dinner at Seven Spirits Bay Resort one night) while they are an endangered species in many parts of Asia. And for the animals that do belong, our ongoing confusion about how to treat the crocodile population means that there are many more than there used to be making places which were accessible to the indigenous people no longer available.

Leaving aside the feral animals (and the dingos and the agile wallabies and the reptiles), the most prolific form of life are birds. I could reel off a very long list but the ones that I liked the most are the ones that give off a flash of colour as they fly past:

• The brilliant scarlet of the Red-tailed Black Cockatoos
• The glistening aqua of the cheeky Blue-Winged Kookaburra as they flew in to sit on the bar at Barra Lodge
• The glimpse of the bands of blue of the Sacred Kingfisher flying across a billabong
• The red comb of the Jacana dad as he hustles his chicks across the water lilies
• The Rainbow Bee-eater with its magical combination of blue, green, black, violet and chestnut feathers.

I have learnt to love the Merlin ID app that helped to make sense of all the bird calls that surrounded us wherever we went. 

Photos:

1.      1.  Flying into Gove/Nhulunbuy

2.       2. Driving to Murwangi Lodge

3.       3. Susan and stiches at Davidson Safari Camp

4.       4. Deserted Victoria Settlement

5.      5.  Jacana and chicks, Coopers Creek

6.      6.  Kookuburra at Barra Lodge