It was Shakespeare I think who first raised the issue of the labels we put on people & things, 'a rose by any other name would smell as sweet' or words to that effect.

The first Adel I knew was an infants mistress back in the nineteen seventies. Adel was a big fat piece with no family of her own & nothing better to do with a life than keep my young wife back after school at interminable staff meetings discussing how many angels they could fit on the head of a pin.

After a few years we moved on & the next Adel to cross my path was a name on a typed list, 'Adel's grove', it said. I remember the phrase triggered a mildly unpleasant sensation as my ageing brain struggled to dredge up the last entry under that name. Finally the ancient sorting routine succeeded & it plopped the half remembered picture of a plump countenance triumphantly on the table top of my conscious mind. I shuddered at the thought & promptly put the image out of my head.

Adel's grove in the Lawn Hill national park was really something. By the time we got there I'd clocked up enough consecutive flying hours to be very confident at the controls of my R22. In fact some would say that I had drifted into the realms of 'aggressive manoeuvring'! Anyway, suffice it to say that a little bit of canyon flying was not beyond us, a combination of moderate forward speed & plenty of bank seemed to do the trick, I flew while Jeremy leaned & videotaped.

What a buzz. It was one of those glorious hot mid winter sunny days you can only get up north & rock walls melted into a continuous ochre blur as I refined my serpentine flying technique. The water below was either a mirror of dazzling reflected sunlight or a deep green depending on our angle and the trees rustled in our wash as we roared past. This oasis in the desert became so enthralling in a 'lost world' sort of way that I did something I haven't done since I was a kid, I lost track of time. I was actually lining up for my second low level run when the radio transported me back to reality with a query as to whether we intended landing sometime that day?

From ground level the grove was no less captivating. From a canoe it looked just too good to be true, like a Disney set in an theme park. All the ingredients were there; palm trees, water falls, cliff faces, bird life. As we paddled along I waited patiently around each bend for the animatronic alligator to appear. It never did, but we swam & dived & climbed & explored. It was a little bit of childhood revisited in the era of my forty ninth year in this world.

People were making noises about leaving when Bruce helped me manhandle a canoe up a portage ramp. George & I paddled from there into the next movie set. This one was quiet & serene. As the roar of the waterfalls faded we paddled in silence over glassy water upstream. When it was time to turn around I did not want to go. I felt greedy, I wanted to drink more of the experience in, keep going for a picnic tea or something.

Adel's grove was one of those places where I could have stayed. Oh yes! I could have lingered longer all right. Sell the chopper, fax the wife & kids to come & join me sort of stayed. Tune in & drop out, no forwarding address sort of stayed. Don't call me I'll call you, stop the world I want to get off sort of stayed. It was a magnet & I was the loadstone. Moth to the flame territory.

I'll go back one day, check out Riversleigh just down the road & the other points of interest we missed this time & show the place off to my companion(s). I could be travelling by R44 or beat up ute, who cares. Adel will be waiting for me I know.