A Cobourg escape
High over the waters of Beagle Gulf our charter flight out of Darwin had barely levelled off above the atmospheric haze of dry season smoke when the pilot looked hard at the control panel, a puzzled expression on his face. He twiddled with some knobs. He rapped the glass face of one gauge with a knuckle. Then he spoke quickly into the mouthpiece of his headset, his words unheard above the drone of the engine and the clutter of noise in the cabin.
The conversation went on for several minutes and when it was over the plane began to change direction, banking back towards the mainland.
I tapped the pilot on the arm and cocked an enquiring eyebrow, silently asking him what was going on as he turned to look at me.
“The air speed gauge isn’t working,” he said, then smiled reassuringly.
“It isn’t a serious problem but we do have to go back.”
After 12 months of talking and planning, Graeme Fifield and I were on our way to the Cobourg Peninsula to hunt bantengs. Our plan was to land at Smith Point – the second most northern point of mainland
