Aboard True North’s Kimberley Waterfalls Cruise: What to Know

A slow yet exhilarating journey through the Kimberley reveals a landscape washed anew.

The wave of joy that washes over me as I hear the words, “Let’s go catch some barra”, is as welcome as it is unexpected. Before I know it, I’m handed a rod and given a quick lesson as fishing is new to me. Lift the reel arm, hold the line with your index finger then swing and release at the same time. It takes coordination and timing. Plop. My lure lands two feet in front of me.

It’s only when my line is safely in the water – cast not by me but by my guide, Mitch – that I look up to make sense of where I am. We’re surrounded by the sheer red sandstone cliffs of the King George River in Western Australia, almost as far north-west as you can get on this land. The remoteness and the effort it takes to get here – the nearest airport is more than 250 kilometres away in Kununurra, there’s not a road in sight and the only way you can see the area is by air or water – just adds to the otherworldliness of this place. Aboard True North II, we take our time and meander up river systems and into bays as we cruise from Wyndham to Broome (Rubibi), exploring the inland waterfalls of the Kimberley region.

I quickly realise that fishing for me is not so much about the catch but about tuning into my senses, listening to the gentle lap of water and taking my time to ponder how to describe the colour of those cliffs. “Red” doesn’t do them justice. Ochre, rust, burnt orange? We settle for “Kimberley Red”.

“The true colour of the sandstone inside is actually white,” says Tim Grylls, the ship’s resident naturalist. “It’s about 1.8 billion years old and over time – depending on how exposed it is to the air – it takes on different colours and goes yellow first then orange and red. The really old sections are that deep red.”

Days onboard our 10-night cruise quickly fall into a pattern: early morning fishing followed by sightseeing and nature walks. We go ashore at Vansittart Bay (Banjal) to find boab trees, which, with their water-swollen trunks, can grow for thousands of years; we set out in tenders that hug sheer cliffs looking for osprey nests; we peer under rocky overhangs hoping to find ancient Aboriginal rock art. The area is known for two different styles – Gwion Gwion, which has been dated at well over 10,000 years old and often depicts floating figures in ceremonial attire; and deeply spiritual Wandjina figures, which typically have large eyes, halos and no mouth.

When we’re not exploring, we’re chasing waterfalls. True North II goes in search of them three times a year in March and April, at the end of the wet season when the water is raging. We’re early in the season so don’t see another ship for days and it feels like we have the top corner of Australia all to ourselves. To reach our first – King George Falls (Oomari Falls) – we spend the afternoon cruising up the winding river, the noise of the water getting louder and louder. As we round the final bend, we’re greeted by a fine mist that quickly becomes a full-blown spray. The noise is deafening and the sight races our hearts but it’s the “feel” that stays with you. The ship has been custom-built to navigate shallow waters so we can get close. Very close, I discover, as our captain carefully noses the bow under the downpour.

We repeat this experience at a dozen or so waterfalls, some famous, some unnamed – careful approach, awed silence, exhilarating dunking. At Kings Cascade in the Prince Regent River, the water roars down the moss-covered steps of the rock face, giving the effect of a glistening chandelier. At Talbot Bay (Ganbadba) in the Buccaneer Archipelago, we see the Horizontal Falls (Garaanngaddim), which David Attenborough, we’re told, once described as “Australia’s most unusual natural wonder”. The water doesn’t move vertically but instead – thanks to huge tidal movements – squeezes through tight gorges, creating a sideways “waterfall”.

My fellow shipmates and I develop a friendly rivalry over our days together. Talk inevitably leans towards barra and “the one that got away”, and with only 22 passengers on our 34-metre vessel, there’s a sense of intimacy. On the main deck are four cabins with huge panoramic windows that drink in ever-changing views and a dining room serving modern fusion flavours – five-spice confit duck one night, baharat lamb rump the next – created by two onboard chefs. There’s also a lounge area and a bar deck where we meet to relive each day.

One morning, I join the sunrise fishing party in a tender heading up Porosus Creek, part of the Hunter River (Yirinni). The creek takes its name from the scientific term for saltwater crocodile, crocodylus porosus, and it’s teeming with salties. We find a promising spot for barra and cast in, only to notice we’ve picked up a friend – a giant croc sitting just off our bow. We take a moment to appreciate the way it glides through the water, leaving next to no wake, before lifting anchor and moving on.

Understandably, swimming near the boat is off limits so instead on one of our last days we take the onboard helicopter to a pictures-don’t-do-it-justice swimming hole at Melaleuca Falls. Here, the day is spent bobbing around in the fresh water, jumping off low rocks and being carried leisurely along by the current. The only sound is the occasional splash; the only smell, succulent lamb chops and gourmet sausages cooking on the barbecue. It’s a picnic but not like any I’ve had before. For a moment I forget about the pursuit of barra and just enjoy the majesty of the Kimberley.