Below is Mitch's ,AKA B1, account of the October 2014 Wiligi trip. Thanks Mitch.
Wiligi Station.
Mini Mini,
Endyalgout, Coburg Peninsula, Northern Territory
Oct 2014
Fishos: Ash Winks, Chris Tully, Dave Mitchell
In the 70’s, after Cyclone Tracy, Humpty Doo was a place far enough out of Darwin to live a little more to one’s own rules. A tavern, come pub, with a lop sided pool table that while the locals were wise enough to avoid would usually entice the Darwin big city blown-ins to surrender a collection of their “2 bob” coins. Humpty Doo was the last chance for food or fuel and was the first return stop to when coming back from shooting at the lagoons, fishing the Mary, Adelaide or South Alligator rivers or returning from adventures further afield.
Humpty Doo locals were those folks who could live off the grid even before the grid was there. They would erect their ‘dongas’ from repurposed, usually illegally reappropriated building materials, resourceful enough to use a car battery to re-weld broken suspension on their SWB Landcruisers, scrape out a Barramundi aquaculture business or sow a few seasonal cash crops without too much Council, Government or police oversight. Humpty Doo was also famous for growing a very powerful strain of cannabis known as ‘Humpty Doo Madness’ but that tale is for another day.
Humpty Doo as I found out on a fishing trip in 2015 with Ash Winks and Chris Tully (B1) has significantly changed now with cavernous civil engineering workshops lining the highway, huge illuminated signs of international agricultural dealerships, massive acreages of mango plantings, and now a rather flash tavern with backpacker barmaids.
While the landscape has changed significantly, the locals still remain a tad different to most Northern Territorians, most noticeably with the “Humpty Doo Rig”. The rig identifies these folks not so much as modern day mavericks but more of an appreciation of their adventurous forebears. Just as in the 70’s the “Humpty Doo Rig” serves to remind the Darwin city folk to be aware of these bush blokes.
Wide brimmed “Bunnings” straw hats, sun bleached goatee beards, yellow and blue hi viz shirts, tradies shorts, black socks and Blundstone style work boots have replaced the previous rig of the ubiquitous terry towelling hat, bluey singlet, tight Stubbie shorts and a pair of black double plug thongs. Gone also are the 12ft Dolphin tinnys with an 8 horsepower Mariner outboard and a Woolies foam esky full of ice and green cans.
Now days the boat of choice is a 5 or 6 metre Stessco with a 130 HP Honda with festooned with stickers and Barra themed livery. A full control centre of electronic gizmos such as sounders, electric motors, GPS, towed by a monstrous Toyota Landcruiser tray back Ute with accompanying 44-gallon drums of diesel and 4 stroke fuel.
Our fishing trip was a 3 man trip to Wiligi outstation to hit the Mini Mini, with Ash, myself and Tulls. It was Ash's many years earlier who rather unfairly but somewhat accurately coined us as B1 and B2 in reference to the bad luck that followed Tulls and I on our fishing adventures down south.
As we sped past Humpty Doo I caught a glimpse of 2 locals in their final preparation for their trip retying straps and adjusting tie downs of their gear. Little did I realise then it was a portent of future encounters on the Mini Mini.
Most unlike a B1 and B2 adventure we arrived uneventfully at Wiligi, well in time for a few sun downers. Later that night we first saw the Humpty Doo blokes pull in to Wiligi and set up camp a couple hundred meters down the beach. They joined their mates with a brace of portable electric generators, 12-volt fridges, swarms of LED lights, circular fans, loud speakers. Now these Humpty Doo boys know how to rough it, in Humpty Doo style.
As we launched the following morning, we noticed that we had just managed to sneak in front of a white Landcrusier pulling a big 5 or 6 metre Stessco at the Mini Mini boat ramp. As they patiently waited, I thought of how Territorians are such lay back blokes.
Ash expertly reversed, launched and manoeuvred his Hilux, in and off the boat ramp in record time. Soon we were heading out through the mangroves at full noise keen to get some early morning fishing underway.
“In the Territory cast at anything unusual"
We were silently fishing with an electric motor up a small creek just on the high tide change. We were peppering the river mouth, sight fishing, looking for movement, looking for water colour changes. Looking for anything out of the usual to cast at.
We were casting our Swimming Mullets with the glorious whizz of the bait casters spooling out 20-30 meter casts. I love the sound of bait casters in the morning!
Ash, dragged in a couple Barra, then Tulls and even I followed with a few hook ups and soon we all had boated sizeable 55cm plus Barras. Ash, as he hooks up another Barra, “Guys, just remember in the Territory just cast at anything unusual” he said.
As we drifted with the outgoing tide we noticed that the Humpty Doo boys were fishing the river mouth in their massive boat. I recall thinking are we fishing their spot or are they drifting into ours.
“Any luck?” one of us asked “Nah, not a thing” came a clearly envious but curt reply.
Only minutes later Ash, Tulls and I had boated more Barra, Tull’s cast his lure to just in front of their boat – say 20cm from the port side. Not a threatening cast, but a cast very close to their boat, nevertheless. Silence fell over the 2 boats. With a click of the bait caster’s reel, Tulls started his retrieve, under the watchful Humpty Doo boys’ gaze.
Ash and I looked at Tulls and collectively whispered, “Fuck that was a bit close, Tulls !”
“But Ash”, replied Tulls
“You did say to cast at anything unusual …”
Swamped at the Crab Pots:
The Endyalgout water system is huge, like really really big huge! Maybe not quite a thousand Sydney Harbours in width or depth, but bloody huge regardless.
We were fishing the famed “Mini Mini” and who would have thought we would bump into those Humpty Doo blokes again.
Mid-day tropical heat, bottom of the low tide and we were dropping mud crab pots off prior to heading to Ash's hot spots for the run in. I’m told that blasting past fishos as they cast into the shore is considered bad form in the NT.
Keep the wake down, go by slow, respect the fishos I’m told.
We were once again under full throttle looking for a river to fish the incoming tide. We see a boat ahead, maybe 500 meters, stationery, 2 fishos intent of casting the shallows. The wind is against us, the tide is against us, but we quickly close in on the 5 or 6 meter Stessco. As we pass gunnel to gunnel, we see the fishos start to balance, dance and adjust their weight as our wake nearly swamps the massive boat.
We look back and they seemed unfazed, seemingly unworried as they "apparently" wave back at us. We just realised then they were the Humpty Doo blokes from earlier in the day and that we had nearly drowned them. Come to think of it, I’m not sure that were waving !
Dusted on the way home
On the Mini Mini it is wise to wait till the tides are high and the boat ramp accessible to either launch or retrieve a boat. A single ramp, steep, and closely protected by mangroves on both sides hides unseen dangers like rocks sunken tress and crocs.
Moving through the small Mini Mini creeks at high speed takes skill, courage and finesse. Quickly we arrived at the boat ramp, and yet again we seem to just sneak in front of the Humpty Doo Boys as they patiently wait for their turn at the boat ramp.
Quickly our boat was retrieved and as we were tending to the boat the trailer the Humpty Doo boys slowly go past us back towards Wiligi. We are soon off raising clouds of red dust as Hilux and boat and bounces and bangs along the road back to Wiligi. About 10 clicks along the Gunbalanya road we saw up ahead a boat and car pulled up on the side of the road. Bloody big 5-6 meter Stessco, white Landcrusier, 44 gal drums, 2 blokes in Humpty Doo rig.
As we pass the blokes are waving to us, pointing! Wot the?
Our trailing red dust covers them and their hi viz, covers their boat and their open mouths and beers – we quickly realise that they are pointing to our open ute canopy side door and we slow to a stop.
The three of us get out trying to recall whose job it was to close the ute door. As I look back, I see those Humpty Doo Boys shaking off the dust and shaking their heads. As we close the doors, I wonder why they wait and do not get going before us.
They seem OK, they don’t seem broken down or in need of help. I know now they were perhaps somewhat reluctant to move ahead of us just in case our paths cross again.
Cheers to you brave Humpty Doo Boys, no doubt the Territory’s finest and most understanding fishos.
If on our next trip to the Mini Mini we stop at the Humpty Doo Tavern and see ‘youse’ blokes we will shout you a beer for the troubles we beset you.
“Remember when in the Territory, cast at anything unusual”.
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