Back on Anna Plains
Temperature - Day (maximum):
approx. 29-32 degrees
Anna Plains – 13.06.2001
Once again we transfer film footage to the computer and when that is finally finished we go to the nice restaurant on the beach for breakfast. We then use the little time we have to look at a gallery of Aboriginal paintings. We admire the art of the goldsmiths and the magical way in which they work the beautiful pearls, which are cultivated and found here on the coast, into very valuable jewelry and visit the crocodile farm of Malcolm Douglas. A young, extremely friendly and likeable man guides us through the complex with many other tourists. To demonstrate the aggressiveness of the saltwater crocodiles, which can grow up to ten meters long in exceptional cases, he throws a kind of plastic buoy into a seemingly uninhabited waterhole. As soon as the buoy hits the surface, the monster from a long-forgotten time shoots up and takes the entire buoy with it into the darkness. My breath and camera are taken away in shock. You can’t imagine kneeling by a river somewhere in northern Australia to scoop out water and suddenly you’re attacked by one of these huge reptiles and dragged into the depths without even a glimmer of a chance.
At the end of the tour, we visit Malcolm in person to have a chat with him. Peter knows him well and arranged the meeting for us. We are pleasantly surprised at how nice and friendly he welcomes us despite his familiarity. We would love to have a longer conversation with this very interesting man, but his and our schedule doesn’t allow it. “If you’re ever in Broome again, you have to come by,” he says. We shake hands, thank him for his time and leave the park. Before we leave the pretty little town behind us, we go to a fast food restaurant for lunch and then take our films to the post office. As always, time flies and before we know it, it’s 5pm in the afternoon. We say goodbye to our hosts and drive to Anna Plains. We had agreed to be back by 6.30 p.m. because the crew wanted to celebrate our departure today. By the time our Holden’s headlights bathe the farmhouses in a glistening light, it is already 8 pm. “We’re really sorry that we’re so late. Does it still make sense to celebrate a little?” we ask Sandy, John’s lovely housekeeper. “Sure, join us, the evening is still young,” she replies with a laugh and serves up a variety of cheeses and other delicacies. We chat with the Jilleroos and Jackeroos until 11 p.m. and then fall into bed dead tired and content.
