Operation Barramundi
Who knew fishing involved a helicopter and rock climbing?
BERKELEY RIVER, AUSTRALIA—“How good are you at rock climbing?”
That was the question posed by guide Steve Farley, the night before we were to go fishing. Still groggy from the journey to the remote Berkeley River Lodge on the Western Australian shores of the Timor Sea, I assumed he was joking.
But when Farley sets his helicopter down the next morning — the only way to access the fishing spot — I’m grateful I wore sensible shoes.
After wading through a stream, where the recent slide marks of a saltwater crocodile are visible in the sand, we begin the climb towards a small waterfall. Clambering over the volcanic rock is a task that requires the use of my hands and knees.
By the time I catch up with Farley, he’s already baiting his hook with mullet fish. Minutes later, he reels in his first catch: an orange-hued mangrove jack. It’s one of the dozens of species that lives in the area’s rivers, gorges and water holes. But we’re here to catch the elusive barramundi, a white-fleshed sports fish known for its fighting ways.
As the sun beats down, Farley recasts. Barramundi are visible in the water below, but there are no bites. Later, as Farley packs up his gear, he points to bubbles floating up from the depths.
“I reckon that’s the crocodile,” he says, shrugging. “Barra go quiet if they’re around.”
In a country with more than 25,000 kilometres of coastline, it might seem a tad extreme to fly to an isolated location, enter crocodile-infested waters and scale rocks just to catch a fish. But that’s exactly why fishing enthusiasts journey to the Kimberley in the northernmost reaches of Western Australia. It’s one of the best places to catch barramundi, which are considered by fishermen to be part of the “holy trinity” of Australian fish species (the other two being mulloway and Australian salmon).
At more than 423,000 kilometres squared and with a population of just 39,000, the Kimberley is one the world’s last great wilderness areas, with hiking, fourwheel driving and camping opportunities. Yet it’s the region’s rivers, lakes and estuaries that draw people here — if Australia is a sunburned country, the Kimberley is an oasis.
Although that much is clear from the helicopter cockpit, the best way to experience it is from the water itself. That’s what I discover later that day on a Berkeley River cruise. As we periodically stop to cool off in waterfalls, I’m struck by how prehistoric it looks. Pink sandstone cliffs, rich with green vegetation, tower overhead like ancient Jenga stacks. Jurassic doesn’t seem like quite the right description and I’m not far off; our guide tells us that the area predates fossils.
The sun begins to set and we exchange waves with the lone other boaters on the water. They’ve travelled the four hours from nearby Wyndham just to fish the Berkeley’s pristine waters.
However, barramundi — which live in both fresh water and saltwater — can also be caught farther inland, including at El Questro. An hour-long plane ride away, the 283,280-hectare wilderness park is in the heart of the world’s largest intact tropical savannah. Like Berkeley, everything at El Questro is connected to the water that flows through it. Locals will be quick to tell you that nearby Lake Argyle could fill Sydney’s harbour more than 18 times. Gorges rush with water from the recent wet season and there are countless waterfalls — some that haven’t even been explored yet.
“We just found a new waterfall five years ago,” El Questro Homestead’s general manager Lori Litwack says as we eat dinner on a rocky ledge perched beside the Chamberlain River.
It may sound like an overwrought tourism slogan, but it’s fact; the Kimberley is literally a region waiting to be discovered. The 135-kilometre-long Berkeley River wasn’t mapped until about1911. The Bungle Bungles, a range of beehiveshaped domes, weren’t widely known to outsiders until 1982. Last year, 20 new species of fish were identified, while night parrots — previously thought to be extinct — were recently found nesting near Broome.
The Kimberley is the type of place that something — be it finned, feathered or two-legged — could go to truly get lost.
Or, as in Litwick’s case, become found. After moving to Australia from Calgary about 15 years ago, Litwack found home. Along with her partner, executive chef Alan Groom, the Canadian returns to the Kimberley every dry season to manage the property.
“People miss it when they leave,” she says. “It’s a million little things. You can’t put into words. It doesn’t have what you think of as seasons; it has its own rhythms.”
After dinner, we lean over the rock ledge. In the river below, massive catfish swim through the dark water, occasionally breaking into a frenzy for bread that we toss down to them. Tonight though, it seems the resident crocodile would prefer to remain lost. Jessica Wynne Lockhart was hosted by Tourism Western Australia, which did not review or approve this story. Kimberley region experiences you can’t miss,