FROM LEFT:
Harvesting a pearl at
Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm;
Exploring the incredibly
blue waters of the
Kimberley coast.
OPPOSITE: Catch
a tender through the
gate-like fissure of
rock caused by the
Horizontal Falls.AUSTRALIANTRAVELLER.COM 63
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^1WEEKENDS | The Kimberley
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
PHOTOGRAPHY: FLEUR BAINGER (HORIZONTAL FALLS, ROCK BACKGROUND, PEARL); SUE ELSCOT (AERIAL OF BOAT)