My Kakadu

I was lucky enough to grown up in Kakadu National Park. There is a very small permanent population made up of those who work for the mine, scientists who monitor the mine and the parks and wildlife service. As a child I had geckos running up and down my walls at night, a seven foot goanna living under our house and one of the kids in my brother's class at school's Dad was eaten by a crocodile.

We weren’t allowed any pets (because it’s a National Park) but used to catch and rear tadpoles and blue tongue lizards. We were lucky enough to be taught at school about the aboriginal land maintenance techniques and about what you should and shouldn’t eat in the bush as well as learning about how the land and it's inhabitants were shaped and formed during the Dreamtime (if you visit make an effort to hear the story of the Rainbow Serpent and the Quinkins at least.).

Kakadu is a mysterious place, some parts of which non-aboriginals need a permit to enter. A lot of it is unchartered territory, full of caves, rocky out crops, still, shimmering wetlands and strange, silent, pressing bush. It can be dangerous but it still seems like a vast exciting playground to me.