It’s been a while since we’ve been down to the Katherine region. We were meant to restart our program back in February - bags packed, gear checked, ready to roll. Then the rain came, and it just kept coming. Weeks of fat rain hammering down for hours. Every single day. A welcome break from the heat at first, until the wetlands filled, the rivers began rising across the Darwin and Daly regions, and it became clear, it wasn’t stopping.
I realised we probably weren’t making our first visit when I saw footage from the Rod and Rifle Tackleworld crew, bow waves from their tinny rolling down Katherine’s High Street. Across the NT, whole communities were evacuated, coming in from as far as Palumpa and Peppi, all housed together in Marrara Sports Stadium on camp beds. The novelty of being “in town” begins to fade when you realise this little holiday will be indefinite. You don’t know when you’ll get home, with Cyclone Fina marauding through in the wake of the downpour, and the one that followed. Will you have a home to return to?
Katherine River usually sits around three metres. I always love crossing the bridge on the way in, looking at the flood markers climbing to eighteen. I’ve seen the water at thirteen before and marvelled at the sheer volume passing below. This year it peaked at nineteen and a half, flooding the town so determinedly people could fish in the streets, whilst keeping their eyes out for crocs.
The floods came in three waves. Each time people watched it rise, watched the mud slurry through their homes and town, watched it dissippate, and then another surge arrived, a phenomenal amount of water, moving fast, brown, pulling in all the debris on it's way through the gorges.
During this time, we were able to bring a little light relief at the Evacuation Centre, bringing some fun to a fatigued environment. Most of the kids had been to school but were happy to fling in some front flips before dinner. Families looked tired and confused, unsure of what they'd be going back to, whenever that would be.
In the couple of weeks following, everything was back to normal for us in Darwin. Even though we are only 350km away the story was very different for us. Cyclone Fina came through but barely made a dent compared to Marcus and few years back. That one knocked over hundreds of huge Mahoganys, the clean up took months. Mountains of dead wood, all piled up at the end of the airport runway, being chipped into pellets as there was too much to handle at once.
When we finally got the go‑ahead to return to Katherine, we’d almost forgotten the scale of what had happened. The reminder came quickly. Every pothole on the Stuart Highway told us again. The drive took nearly two hours longer than usual, and by the time we rolled into Knotts Crossing, our usual digs , the reality of it all was apparent. Seventeen of their cabins had been affected. They were short on accommodation, stretched like everyone else.
Katherine itself was holding itself together, barely. When we arrived at the first community the kids were slow and scarce. Mainly the young ones came , the babies in nappies and a few stalwarts from the last few years. Barely anyone got off the school bus so school would've been low priority. The sport and rec team fired up the barbeque and we dished out fruit. The kids that were there were happy to see us and free with their hugs.
The team were holding up well, considering. They were now working out of the town office, their community space, equipment, and computers all destroyed, even their educational paparework. Everything's now in the hands of insurers, and of course they’re not the only ones waiting. There’s a new kind of flood happening, paperwork rising in piles, each claim competing for priority. You can bet the kids aren’t at the top of that list, even though the lack of provision will ripple out in ways everyone can predict. Katherine could do with a break from that cycle.
Whilst chatting with the team, we learned there were live diphtheria cases locally. Our other community was a no‑go. Another blow on top of the recovery process. There have been deaths. Now it’s Wurli’s job to get the message out about vaccination and stop further sickness from ripping through the community. The hospital is still in a recovery process of it's own, having also suffered damage in the floods.
This is the place we’re returning to - complicated, tired, but resilient. We keep coming, something stable and familiar after a season of upheaval. We show up, and so do they sharing some moments of relief.
