SHORT AND SWEET
The quicker way to cruise the Kimberley
I’LL ADMIT IT UPFRONT: I’M A SCEPTIC. Even as I step aboard Kimberley Quest’s gleaming white catamaran, I’m wondering how a bite-sized, four-day cruise of the Kimberley’s vast coastline could possibly measure up to a languorous week or two’s glide. There are thousands of islands, hidden waterfalls and turtle-scattered reefs to cover, along with fishing jaunts, beach strolls, whirlpool watching and more. Not a chance, right? It takes less than three hours to stick it to my cynicism.
I’m no rookie to this part of the world. I’ve cruised it up and back, repeatedly flown over it, even choppered over its icons. When it comes to the Kimberley, I’m as smitten as they come and my brow furrows at the idea of squeezing so much into so little time. But I’m also a realist. We may all lust after a Kimberley expedition, but few of us on today’s hamster wheel have got eight, 14 or even 18 days to commit, nor the $10,000, or $20,000 and then some, to cover it. Then there’s finding care for the kids, the pets and the house. Fit the trip into four days or fewer, however, and it becomes infinitely more do-able.
So where do I find myself, three hours in? Standing in a tin dinghy, fishing rod awkwardly in hand, bobbing a lure about in the hope of hooking something. Rugged islands – so rich in iron they’re burgundy in colour – rim our position in the motionless water, and a mothballed mine site reminds us that even settings this captivating can be compromised.
My cruise companions and I arrived here after soaring above the Western Kimberley outback in a light plane. The wings curved over water as blue as a Tiffany box and as transparent as glass, which was soon swapped for the paprika red of Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm’s dirt airstrip. Then, another hue: the beautiful dark skin of Terry Hunter, a fourth generation Bardi man who has spent most of his life on the pearl farm. His primary school bestie is now at the helm of the family owned operation, and Terry’s pride at showing off his home, and what they produce in it, is palpable.
“As a kid growing up here, I saw pearl shells that were larger than your average dinner plate,” he said as he popped a pearl out of a live oyster. His forebears have been harvesting the Pinctada maxima for 20,000 years, throwing the pearls away and using everything else for trade, food and cultural purposes. Terry’s tour ended as the Kimberley Quest II’s transfer boats arrived on the farm’s pale beach, and we’re whisked away.
The lurch of my fishing rod pulls me back into the now: I don’t just get a bite, but a vigorous chomp. It’s game on as an invisible school of queenfish jumps on each and every hook. Beginners’ panic, chaos and happy hysteria ensue, and by the time we each pull a fish in, our group has transformed from polite strangers into old friends. As the sun sets, time seems to have stretched well beyond the 12 hours we’ve spent together.
The early starts undoubtedly play a part. At 5am the next morning, the Buccaneer Archipelago’s burnt orange islands are blanketed in crisp light that seeps through my porthole. Aged around 1.8 billion years, they stand firm
as fast-flowing currents sweep masses of water past them; the tropical tides here are among the largest in the world – rising and retreating by up to 13 metres – and are believed to be some of the speediest on the planet. Throughout the day, the tide falls, revealing bands of salty white and silty brown beneath the red-stained sandstone.
After breakfast, we coast across the turbulence in a jet boat, the warm air like a hairdryer fanning my face as we dart up a river edged by rocks stacked high, like giant blocks. A sweaty scramble leads to a black and bottomless billabong, fed by a gushing waterfall – the epitome of the Kimberley.
A humpback whale and her babe farewell us from these waters, their pectoral fins slapping as though waving. We’re en route to Montgomery Reef, a big-ticket item on the Kimberley’s sightseeing list. Australia’s largest inshore reef measures 25 kilometres one way and 13 kilometres the other, covering some 300 square kilometres and resembling a low, coral and seaweed coated mesa. As the tide withdraws, water peels off the reef in frothing cascades. Narrow channels permit exploration, outboards labouring against the flow. We spin around and cut the motor, floating on the noisy current while peering over the side at sunfish and turtles. Pure, raw, wild, real are the words dancing in my mind; nature is a force here, and we breathe in her intoxicating power.
Day three leads us to the Horizontal Falls, a quirk of nature where cascades lie flat between mountain ranges. They’re another outcome of the Kimberley’s humbling tides, where water pushes so ferociously through gaps in the red rock that the resulting carpets of white resemble waterfalls. The Quest’s jet boat is powerful enough to bounce over the water boils and whirlpools, shooting through the 10- and 20-metre-wide gaps like a slingshot. It’s thrilling and we beg to do it over and over again.
It’s a bit like the trip itself: already there’s talk about staging a mutiny and refusing to go home. “Our biggest issue is to get people off,” jokes owner and skipper Jeff Ralston, a former cray fisherman who is celebrating 25 years of working these waters with Kimberley Quest this year. We’re momentarily distracted from our scheming when the scrunched strata of Talbot Bay looms around us.
The layers of sedimentary rock here buckle and ribbon, with some tilted by as much as 85 degrees, a legacy of geological forces that are estimated to have occurred between 540 million and one billion years ago. Some strata is vertically oriented – like a stack of pancakes put on its side – and as we skate over kingfisher-blue water, we pass formations that look like a cook’s chopping board, with ramrod-straight clefts slashing through the rock in every direction.
Another waterfall dip, less fruitful fishing and a slow cruise through turbid Whirlpool Pass precede our return to Cygnet Bay’s waters, the return to reality still a topic
of vehement denial among guests. None of us wants to give up the reviving balm of being removed from the fluorescent glow of the office, voluntarily off emails (none of us took up the $100 wi-fi service) and away from clogged traffic. I’d never have believed we could fit in so much of the Kimberley in less than four days, nor that we’d feel so transformed.
Another winning element of the new ‘Taste of the Kimberley’ expedition is that it’s appealing to a younger demographic – as we return to land, two recognisable rugby league stars and their girlfriends are waiting in the pearl farm’s cafe, ready to board, and Ralston says they’re not the only non-retirees to sign up.
With Kimberley snapshots gaining in popularity, there are other ways to savour the beguiling region in shorter timeframes and with smaller budgets. Both Horizontal Falls Seaplane Adventures and Go Horizontal run different day trips through the region, and while they don’t grant the same level of luxe and relaxation as a cruise, it’s the most affordable way to see the sights, from the air and the water. So if ever you’ve been looking for an excuse to tick off that bucket-list item, I’d say your time is now.