Sky High

A Helicopter Tour of the Top End, with a Twist

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Sky High: A Helicopter Tour of the Top End, with a Twist

25 June, 2025

Words by:

Cobey Bartels

“How many pubs are you guys knocking over today?” asks a laid-back tourist at a small airstrip just outside of Darwin. “My wife and I are going to five…and I'm told the unspoken rule is two schooners per pub!”

I’m in the Northern Territory with Hino Trucks, for the Darwin Supercars round, and with time to spare we decided to hit the skies for an aerial tour of the region, with helicopter tour provider Airborne Solutions.

The company started out offering aerial tours around 35 years ago, and its services have grown to include heli fishing (which is exactly what it sounds like) and a one-of-a-kind heli pub crawl (also what it sounds like).

While helicopter pub crawls are nothing new, Airborne Solutions was one of the first to offer an experience like this back in 2007. As the story goes, one of the company’s pilots – who was coincidentally a former publican – set up a one-off tour that visited five pubs across the Top End.

Unsurprisingly, it was a hit.

Before long, word had spread of the unique experience, prompting the company to lean into the concept, with the team developing a range of pub-based tours for thirsty travellers. The tours cover around 300 kilometres and stop at either five, three or two pubs along the way.

Of course, it’s just as much a tour of the region as it is an excuse to drink beer at remote watering holes. We opted for the two-pub option, subbing out the third stop in favour of a bit more air time.

Birds-eye Brilliance

I’ve been lucky enough to traverse much of the Territory, driving the length of the Stuart Highway more than a few times and getting to as much of Kakadu and Litchfield as possible along the way.

The iconic national parks south of Darwin are home to some of the most pristine waterholes Australia has to offer, each one forming a sapphire-hued oasis against the ochre-stained red dirt that’s peppered atop this arid region.

It’s one thing to see the sights through the windscreen of a 4×4, or by foot, but it’s another experience entirely from the skies. The sheer scale of the region, and just how flat, dry and uninhabited the land is, becomes apparent.

A birds-eye view is about the only way to truly appreciate the unique layout of the Top End, and adding a few pub stops just feels right.

Cleared for Take-off

“I’m going to need you to wear these life jackets for the first leg,” says our pilot, Zane, in an assuring Kiwi accent. “It’s just a requirement, because we cross the bay – we don’t plan on using them.”

The safety briefing is fairly straightforward, as we’re shown how to get in and out, and of course what to avoid.

“That tail rotor spins awfully fast and it’s pretty well invisible, so don’t walk up the back after exiting. It’s right at head height, so it doesn’t tend to end well.”

For Australians, the memory of professional golfer Jack Newton walking into the tail rotor of a Cessna 210, which resulted in the loss of his right arm and eye, is a stark reminder never to wander around the back of the bird.

As Zane fires the helicopter to life, we put our headsets on and sit in silence as he requests clearance to take to the skies.

“Cleared for take-off,” a voice responds.

“Alright guys, we’re good to go,” Zane tells us over the comms, as he ups the power and balances the helicopter up off the ground, before leaning it forward into a hard and fast ascent.

Flying out of Darwin at around 10,000 feet, the urban sprawl is traded for back-burnt paddocks – common at this time of year – before we reach the water. Up and over the Darwin National Park wetlands, and across the harbour, we’re pointed firmly at our first stop: Crab Claw Island Resort.

Crab Claw Island is actually accessible by road, which takes around 90 minutes from Darwin, but during the wet season, and during high tide, it becomes an island as the roads are swallowed.

Outback shuttle bus

It’s smokey today, with plenty of back-burning still underway, and the island doesn’t become visible until we’re close enough to make out the XXXX Gold umbrellas providing shady respite on the back deck of the pub.

Suddenly, our pilot takes a hard left, pitching us down to face the Crab Claw Island Resort through the left-hand window, before barrelling over the pub towards a long, dirt runway cut within thick bushland.

Touching down, plumes of orange dust swirl around us, dissipating to present the silhouette of what looks like a tractor. It’s an old Massey Ferguson, painted red but wearing plenty of patina, idling away on the runway.

This, we learn, is the island’s shuttle bus.

“G’day, g’day, climb on guys and girls,” says Crab Claw Island’s manager, John, welcoming us with a warm grin and kind, content eyes.

The old Massey pulls a trailer with two long bench seats – no belts or grab handles – running visitors around the island. On soft sandy dirt like this, with its massive plough-like tyres, it’s the most suitable form of transport.

With little warning, John crunches the tractor into gear and dumps the clutch, lurching forward as we all – in almost perfect unison – grab at the seat to avoid being thrown off the back.

“We haven’t lost anyone have we?” John jokes, offering a half-grin over his shoulder, very clearly amused by the fact he caught us off guard.

He barrels along a winding track, bouncing up and down on the Massey’s small, steel seat, his spine acting as suspension. Dressed in thongs, shorts and a faded King Gee work shirt, John wears the uniform of choice up here.

Suddenly, a beautiful island-themed pub appears, surrounded by cabins and campsites. It’s like stepping back in time, as we park up in front of two 60 Series LandCruiser Saharas, well-used and faded to a hue that matches the red dirt.

The walls within the pub are lined with framed photographs, most of which contain visitors holding their prized fishing catch – and it’s mostly Barramundi in these parts, often up around 100cm.

Perched just metres off a private stretch of beach, the pub offers one of the most serene – and desolate – beachside spots you can imagine. On a 35-degree day like this one, it’s tempting to take a dip, but a sign at the beach entry reminds us we’re in the Territory: “DON’T RISK YOUR LIFE, BEWARE OF CROCODILES.”

A cold beer in the sun – mid-strength, seeing as it’s barely 11am – and it’s time to make our way back to the helicopter. The stops last around 45 minutes, which is just enough time for one beer (or two if you’re eager) and a restroom visit.

On that…don’t underestimate the importance of a last-minute toilet stop, given you’ll be holding on once up in the air. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue, but after half-a-litre of beer, it gets dicey.

Litchfield Allure

It’s time for a tour of Litchfield National Park from above, as we depart Crab Claw Island, on our way to the Darwin River Tavern – the only pub in Australia with a resident crocodile.

Back over the mainland, the desolate, burnt-up country is littered with sudden bursts of green – presumably orchards of some sort.

“They’re mango plantations,” says Zane, hearing us speculating through the headsets. “That’s about all that grows out here.”

Then, as we pass over Litchfield National Park, the magnetic termite mounds prop up, uniformly positioned like tombstones but styled like miniature Gaudi buildings.

They all face north, hence the ‘magnetic mounds’ name, and Zane tells us they have a practical aeronautical use, too.

“You can actually use them to line the helicopter up, if you line up with the north face of the mounds,” he says, pointing at the compass on the dash.

Deeper into Litchfield, the gorges suddenly present themselves, cut deep into the ridgeline like wrinkles on a wise, weathered face.

Having last seen this region by car, maybe a year ago, the scale of the gorges becomes truly apparent at 10,000 feet. Thousands of years of water, cutting its way through the ridgeline, has shaped these exquisite fissures, all marked by a waterfall and swimming hole.

Most of the waterholes in Litchfield are croc free, but many locals will remind you that the risk of reptilian encounters is never zero. Sadly (for the hungry crocs), we won’t be taking a dip today.

For millenia, the Koongurrukun, Mak Mak Marranunggu, Werat and Warray Aboriginal people have roamed these lands, and it is believed that their ancestral spirits shaped the exquisite earth beneath us. It certainly makes sense, given how truly unique the landscape is.

The circle of life in the Territory is tough, a contrast between blazing fires and devastating floods. This land spends a few months on fire, a few months underwater, and then, in its most beautiful form, the flora and fauna emerge before the cycle repeats.

There’s something magical about Litchfield, a place of true extremes, as stunning on the ground as it is from up here.

Cheers, Croc

We snake our way along the Darwin river, onto the iconic Darwin River Tavern, a remote pub located on a 120-acre property that offers stunning panoramic views of the region. It’s a dim-lit tavern with floor-to-ceiling mahogany, and it’s about as inviting as they come.

Then there’s the resident reptile, a freshwater crocodile by the name of Krunchie, who watches over thirsty travellers as they enjoy an ale or three. After being questioned on the ethics of his captivity, our waitress assures me he’s well looked after.

“He’s the only crocodile that gets scotch fillet!” she laughs, probably not joking.

We could have easily watched the afternoon turn into night here, floating between the cosy indoor areas and the laid-back stone-lined beer garden.

Local barramundi and chips, washed down with a Darwin River Lager, closes out our time at the tavern before making the final run back to Darwin – sapped by the heat but sustained by an outback buzz. What a day.

If you’re ever in Darwin, consider a helicopter tour and, if you’re game, make it a pub crawl. Our only cautionary advice: stick to mid-strength beer, and don’t underestimate the power of a last-minute toilet stop at each pub.

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