Twelve Mile Lagoon Revisited: Meeting No. 1 Saltie

Our 4wd bus bravely clambers up 12km of narrowing, dusty track, brushing aside massive palm fronds, and sliding in the sandy dips before depositing us at our stunning No. 1 campsite with a mesmerisingly spectacular view on the junction of the Laura and Normanby rivers.

This is an awe-inspiring location, right up there with the best of what we have experienced in the last 5 years in the Australian wilds. 

From above, it is fascinating to see the phenomenon that is the cabbage palms bursting at the tips with huge, million flower, verdant yellow inflorescence, their final extravaganza of growth before they die and give way to the new generation.

We settle in for river action. Fishos flicking lures putter by in tiny tinnies, egrets wade across the sandbar, a leaden sky is thrashed by violent gusts of wind that make the 30ft cabbage palms beside us rattle their huge fronds like cymbals. 

The forest extends along the shallow, sandy, Laura river behind the camp where, shovel in hand, we answer the call of nature. Decoration for the spot is a discarded fish frame, a very decent sized barra skeleton staring back.

Next day, the sun peeps out in the morning, before the clouds return. In an instant, we have company, proper cheeky 4.5m, majestic company of a massive No. 1 saltie who basks in the sun on the sandbar 50m from us, when he's not chasing fishos' tinnies and snaffling their barra right off the line. What an awesome weapon of a croc! He stays half an hour, then disappears in seconds, sliding without a ripple into the water. 

A couple of years ago, the publican at Lakeland who was a keen fisho, was snapped up by a local croc. Today, a ute rolls up and out pops the publican from Laura, also a keen fisho, out for a drive to see if he can nab a barra. He stands with us a while we discuss the croc sunbaking 50m in front, before it slips quietly into the water. The publican then dons his hat, sunnies and fishing rod to casually walk down and across the sandbar to the exact spot the croc was sitting barely 3 minutes ago. Maybe publicans around here have a death wish or his wife needs the insurance money.

Just kidding!!

Our river TV switches channel to present us with a white-bellied sea eagle dropping onto the opposite bank where he walks through bushes to the branch in the water where fishos have secured a yabby pot. He nonchalantly pecks the net and makes off with a fish. 

Tonight is full moon, glinting ripples, accompanied by the soothing, clonk-clonk knocking of the large-tailed nightjar. In the half light, mysterious splashes and murmurings signal life and death. On and on the river flows through the night, weaving between our dreams.

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Lakefield National Park, Twelve Mile Lagoon, 12 Mile Lagoon, Far North Queensland, Crocodile, Moonlight, Drone