Australia - Top End Tales - Mataranka

There is a musty, horsey smell wafting across the campsite. Follow your nose and it leads to the trail to the hot springs and a huge colony of squeaking flying foxes colonising the trees. As numbers have got out of hand, an attempt is being made to reduce numbers using sprinkler jets every half hour to make the nocturnal animals play musical chairs. 

The walk to the springs involves being pleasantly sprinkled by the water, but do not stand directly under the trees or you will be anointed with poo from the clusters of hundreds of flying foxes clinging to the trees. Swimming in the crystal clear waters of the hot springs at a cozy 32 degrees C is perfect; just the occasional plop of poo into the water reminds of the neighbours. 

 The real show begins at dusk when the sky fills with hundreds and hundreds of whirling flying foxes slowly circling before heading out for their nocturnal feeding grounds of flowers and fruits.