Floating far and wild

LEONIE Coombes is captivated by a scenic adventure cruise off the remote Kimberley coast where each day brings close encounters with wonder.

Wet and wild ... water trapped in basins behind narrow gaps creates whirlpools and eddies that can spin a small boat at the Horizontal Falls in Talbot Bay

IT may be beautiful, but beware. Western Australia's Kimberley coast is full of mystery and danger, too. The rock walls of its caves and ledges hide intriguing renditions of strange beings who stare down, bridging millenniums unblinkingly. Its massive opalescent tides surge and subside, concealing, then revealing, vast reefs and islands in the space of hours. Creatures patented in prehistory dart, slumber and leap, unaware of their power to inspire joy or dread.

The weirdness and wonder of this remote region are encapsulated for me on a seven-day luxury cruise. One experience in particular stands out: my daughter calls me to the back of the boat late one night to pat sharks. A trio of sleek tawny nurse sharks, up to 2.5m long, circle ominously in the yellow glow of a spotlight. Lunging at fish carcasses and meaty leftovers proffered by the crew, they come close enough to enable us to pat their abrasive backs. Next morning they return, part of the family. Tawny nurses have small mouths compared with their more toothy relatives, making them easier to love.

Each day of this journey brings close encounters with creatures in their natural habitat. It imposes a responsibility to leave their territory as pristine as we find it.

Experienced operators such as the Great Escape Charter Company, whose vessels, Great Escape and Kimberley Escape, cruise the coast north of Broome, ensure this is so. Nothing is taken but memories and all that remains are the disturbed thoughts of a few crocs wondering what creatures have temporarily invaded their territory.

The answer is baby boomers, an introduced species that congregates by sunny waterholes. This is the generation who can most readily afford adventures that begin with a swim in the wilderness each morning but end with a gourmet meal each night.

Great Escape, a new hi-tech 26m catamaran with seven double cabins, is designed to satisfy the taste of mature passengers. On this trip, my 22-year-old daughter is the youngest but most are over 55. Four youthful crew members help reduce the average age. Under the affable leadership of skipper Chris Tucker the crew keeps things shipshape but also man tenders, bait hooks and guide passengers up precipitous climbs. Such care and encouragement ensures that those who come in search of the real Kimberley find it.

The adventure begins with a two-hour scenic flight in a light aircraft from the blue of Broome to the dry Mitchell Plateau, about 280km north. After transferring to a helicopter, we head for the coast as an ancient landscape rushes towards us. Twenty minutes later Great Escape is in view, shiny white, anchored in the cerulean water of the Hunter River. We land lightly on the vessel's helipad and soon the chopper leaves us in isolation.

A quick reconnoitre reveals that the glass-fronted fridge at the rear of the boat is stocked with soft drinks as well as beer and wine pre-ordered by passengers. An ice-maker churns out cubes. There is air-conditioning. We are going to be OK.

Jason, our capable Melbourne-trained cook, brings out a self-serve lunch of grilled meats and Asian-style noodles that we enjoy at a generous dining table on the boat's shady rear deck. This is the scene of most socialising for our company of 14; there's also a lounge offering DVDs, sound system and magazines but most of us prefer to be outside, watching the uninhabited world go by.

The double cabins, all equipped with ensuites, climate control and DVD players, are a comfortable retreat. Storage is tight, but by obeying the minimal luggage rule (shorts, T-shirts and swimsuits in a soft travel bag) we manage to stow everything.

On our first night we are transported ashore to a shell-covered beach on Naturalist Island for a bonfire and a few drinks. It is a Famous Five moment for grown-ups. As the sun sinks and sandstone rocks glow, I keep an anxious eye open for sneaky reptiles. Saltwater crocodiles may lurk in the shallows but tonight mosquitoes and sand flies are the only predators intent on eating us alive.

Next morning we power along to Careening Bay. The young English hydrographer Phillip Parker King, who named much of this region, was forced to beach his decrepit vessel here to repair leaks. A stoic boab tree, inscribed with the now distorted words "HMC Mermaid 1820", demonstrates that explorers may come and go, especially pampered ones such as us, but this timeless terrain scarcely flinches.

The Kimberley shrugs off new chums. At Camden Harbour we visit the ruins of a failed settlement and linger at the poignant gravesite of a young woman who died here. In 1864, a Perth property developer set a benchmark for scams by sending gullible settlers to this inhospitable place. Within six months the disastrous venture was over. On an exposed hearth, visitors have arranged fragments of English china, rusty nails and abuckle, the detritus of unrealistic hopes anddreams.

On Great Escape we, too, have our dreams. We dream of barramundi. In these translucent waters you can see whoppers scooting around the shallows in the company of mangrove jack and bream. They outwit us. In deeper water, queenfish, trevally, salmon and tuna snatch the lures and bend our rods double. Catch and release is the usual rule but enough is kept for great eating.

And pity the oysters. On a rocky Camden Harbour beach we are shown how to prise reluctant shells off rocks with chisels. Within no time we half-fill a cooler with fat specimens that taste sublime when they reappear on huge platters.

Meals are excellent and some days we even earn them. Activities are determined by the passengers, but fishing and bird watching are popular. An osprey's nest occupying an elevated, sandstone waterfront on the Hunter River warrants a special trip. Often we just relax on the breezy front deck or in the spa, looking for whales or dolphins. A humpback mother and baby oblige, putting on an affectionate display near the boat.

And sometimes we climb to almost inaccessible waterholes that seem straight out of shampoo commercials. Some, like Ruby Falls, are a challenge to reach. Muddy ledges threaten to cause an avalanche of baby boomers, but the crew offer a steadying hand. At Crocodile Creek, a former BHP camp, a short steel ladder delivers us straight to a majestic waterhole without raising a sweat.

One swimming spot that stands out is Kings Cascade, a splashy, leafy haven where waterfalls tumble over tiered rocks into the Prince Regent River. It epitomises the beauty and danger of the Kimberley.

In 1820, Parker King was saved by the abundant fresh water found here, but 20 years ago nothing could save a tourist taken by a crocodile in this same setting. One of its relatives drifts by, keeping a beady eye on us, while we lunch. His presence, cautionary to say the least, sends us on an awkward climb to the top of the cascade for a swim in a waterhole away from danger.

Less malevolent creatures cross our paths, too. At Montgomery Reef – a unique formation in Collier Bay surely deserving of World Heritage listing – green turtles as big as tyres demonstrate their aquatic agility, darting under our dinghies. Sharks, stingrays and schools of fish keep them company in a colourful coral playground.

On a falling tide, we drift in the heat while water cascades off the vast expanses of exposed reef. Within hours, the shimmering construction of corals, clams, shells and spongy clinging creatures is entirely submerged again.

As temperatures rise, we yearn to swim with the turtles but crocodiles sometimes sunbake on the reef. With a bit of encouragement, our skipper takes us farther out to a sprawling sand cay in a turquoise sea where we wallow intrepidly.

The adventure becomes surreal as the 9m to 12m Kimberley tide rises rapidly, leaving our hats and sarongs marooned on tiny hummocks. Gathering them up just in time, we clamber into the tender and motor away as our dream island disappears completely.

Scary tides are responsible for daily disappearing acts in the Kimberley, but Aboriginal rock art remains a constant. At Raft Point in Doubtful Bay we make the steep climb past lime-coloured kapok bush and flowering Kimberley rose to a compelling site. Surrounded by paintings of reptiles, hands and fish, mysterious haloed figures called Wandjina stare down, defying explanation. Maintained by the Worrora people, they could be 10,000 years old. Back on Great Escape, bold Wandjina paintings by local Aboriginal artists fill the walls, adding outback atmosphere. They are supplied by the Broome 6 gallery and can be purchased.

Kimberley nights bring the pleasure of vibrant skies that reflect in the slate water. Spilling across the blackness the Milky Way shines luminously. This is where the Wandjinas come from, according to Aboriginal legend, and it seems entirely plausible as we sip semillon in the balmy air and count shooting stars.

One final thrill awaits in Talbot Bay. At Horizontal Falls, water trapped in basins behind narrow gaps cascades through sandstone bluffs at low tide, causing dangerous whirlpools and eddies that can spin a small boat. Caught at the right time it is possible to ride up the falls: a wet and wild adventure.

We disembark in Broome with a feeling of achievement. We have seen and done amazing things, and still found time to do absolutely nothing. When shooting stars light the Kimberley skies there is only one wish to be made, and that is for this region to remain beautiful, untamed and dangerous for another 10,000 years.

Leonie Coombes was a guest of The Great Escape Charter Company and the Cable Beach Club.