A beautiful lagoon with six kilometres width to paddle around in and, once again, all to myself. There are a number of advantages to arriving at a neap tide: extensive areas of sand flats to explore at low tide (with snail trails and sunset lit mangrove leaves); using the high tide to push you into the further reaches of the lagoon and less distance walking the kayak into the water if you time your ‘ins’ and ‘outs’ around the high tide mark (Note: I didn’t get this right). The downside of the high tide? Brings the f**king midges a whole heap closer to the caravan park and, boy, don’t they like some Karen flesh to gorge upon. I persisted for two nights and when my body had accumulated sufficient blistered and swollen bites – sufficient to keep me awake all night and scar me for months – I headed inland and away from the mangroves for some reprieve. The lady who had been coming to Port Smith for five months every year for twenty years said, “Your body builds up resistance to the midges”, and she kindly gave me to some bicarbonate of soda to make into a paste to calm the ferocious bites. I’m sure she meant well but part of me – the parts clamouring for a scratch all night – suspected she was just ‘having a lend’. Wildlife score: several large rays scooting away on the expansive sandy flats; curious but nervous turtles sticking their heads up for a swift look-see and a small group of frigate birds. (I kid you not Janet, I thought they were a group of soaring kites until I saw, and subsequently looked up, the forked tail. Nothing else they could have been). The lady in the park’s office had tempted me with stories of flying manta rays, masses of birdlife and tawny frogmouths around the camp ground. All true, I’m sure, if you paddle around for more than two days. Port Smith Lagoon is a place to return to when I have a camping set up that can protect me from the midges, as I’m damn sure that I couldn’t wait twenty years to build up midge bite immunity.