The Kimberley - Yampi Sound
(Yampi Sound derives from an Aboriginal word meaning "freshwater")
Coppermine Creek
Wednesday June 30 - Saturday July 3
Wednesday June 30 - Saturday July 3
Wednesday we finally made it into the Kimberley proper! The journey from Cape Leveque had to be timed with the tides, and Colin calculated if we left at 0615 we would push against the current for an hour or so, then would have the tide running with us when we needed it, like going through the pinches getting into Coppermine Creek. The last hour or so of the journey we motored through whirlpools and eddies and all manner of interesting water formations and colours, from turquoise to pale green, seemingly in strips. Colin had timed our trip perfectly, having learned from last time that wind and motor are no match for a Kimberley current.
We couldn’t believe how calm and still and quiet it was, and how you could put something down without it ending up in the sink or on the floor, or how you could brush your teeth with the bathroom door open and it wouldn’t smack you in the arse as the boat rolled. Bliss!!
Click images to enlarge
We couldn’t believe how calm and still and quiet it was, and how you could put something down without it ending up in the sink or on the floor, or how you could brush your teeth with the bathroom door open and it wouldn’t smack you in the arse as the boat rolled. Bliss!!
Click images to enlarge
Thursday, whilst dinghying around checking out the lay of the land, we met Phil (on sailing vessel Scot Free II) and Morris. They waved us over as we were passing by. Phil is a legend of the Kimberley and used to be permanently camped at Silver Gull Creek with his wife, Marion. Sadly Marion died in 2014, but Phil still lives here in the Kimberley, and Morris was visiting from Darwin in his little motor boat. He told us how a croc had put four punctures in his inflatable dinghy the previous night, which he had already repaired. I asked, “What are you doing with a rubber duck in the crocodile infested Kimberley, Morris?” to which he replied he’d been trying to keep the weight down on his journey from Darwin. I believe Phil and Colin piped up at the same time with rubber dinghies being “teething rings for crocodiles,” and there have been many incidents to prove it is so. Anyway, they had hailed us down to offer us a bag of potatoes, of all things. Seems they’d been gifted many bags by various boats and they were taking up too much space in the fridge. We gratefully accepted.
Friday. Fishing. We’re known to fish very sustainably, me and Colin, basically because we’re better at losing lures than catching fish. The Kimberley though, I mean who couldn’t catch a fish in the Kimberley? The water is heaving with them! Well, people who can’t catch a squid in Denham, that’s who. And it’s not like we didn’t try. We trolled and cast and drifted, at high tide, low tide, between tides, with lures and bait and poppers…and nothing! Not even a bite. Not even a nibble. Not even a tiddler. Not even an undersized neighbour fish! Our only compensation was that Phil and Morris hadn’t caught anything either. They said the tourists had scared all the fish away. Ooooh. Does that include us? Surely not. They must have meant the giant Kimberley Odyssey boat that dropped anchor earlier in the day.
Click images to enlarge
Friday. Fishing. We’re known to fish very sustainably, me and Colin, basically because we’re better at losing lures than catching fish. The Kimberley though, I mean who couldn’t catch a fish in the Kimberley? The water is heaving with them! Well, people who can’t catch a squid in Denham, that’s who. And it’s not like we didn’t try. We trolled and cast and drifted, at high tide, low tide, between tides, with lures and bait and poppers…and nothing! Not even a bite. Not even a nibble. Not even a tiddler. Not even an undersized neighbour fish! Our only compensation was that Phil and Morris hadn’t caught anything either. They said the tourists had scared all the fish away. Ooooh. Does that include us? Surely not. They must have meant the giant Kimberley Odyssey boat that dropped anchor earlier in the day.
Click images to enlarge
Myridi Bay
Saturday July 3 - Monday 5
Saturday July 3 - Monday 5
Saturday, timing our departure near high tide around 1500 hours, we trolled for fish whilst making our way to Myridi Bay. I mentioned to Colin I didn’t think the lure was quite right, it had a bit too much ‘wobble’ (a technical fishing term) on the line, but he assured me it was fine. However, when I pulled it in as we neared our destination the lure was gone, bitten clean through the wire trace, and we hadn’t even had a strike!
As we approached the entrance to the bay there were several motorboats, seemingly in a line across it. Colin suggested perhaps they were waiting for the change in tide to zip across to Cape Leveque, and in fact a few did disappear as the evening wore on.
The walls of the bay were truly spectacular in the setting sun, not just in the rich colour but also in shape. I saw several faces in those walls – a veritable Mount Rushmore right here in the Kimberley.
Sunday, late afternoon, we explored the mangroves and tried to find the deep hole that was supposedly further into the bay but that we couldn’t find when anchoring. There were a couple of deeper spots, but it was debatable whether they were wide enough given we’ve been putting out 50m of chain at each anchorage. The mangroves were very picturesque, and we buzzed in-between with one eye out for crocs.
Trolling on the way back I caught two Spanish mackerel, and struggled to pull up two fish on the lure at once, a trevally and a snapper. Unfortunately, all were undersized and went straight back in. Although we didn’t manage to stock the freezer for our next guests, I think I impressed the people on the Discovery One vessel, who were on the upper deck as I landed some of those fish and must surely think I’m a consummate fisherman who hooks something every time she drops in a line.
Click images to enlarge
As we approached the entrance to the bay there were several motorboats, seemingly in a line across it. Colin suggested perhaps they were waiting for the change in tide to zip across to Cape Leveque, and in fact a few did disappear as the evening wore on.
The walls of the bay were truly spectacular in the setting sun, not just in the rich colour but also in shape. I saw several faces in those walls – a veritable Mount Rushmore right here in the Kimberley.
Sunday, late afternoon, we explored the mangroves and tried to find the deep hole that was supposedly further into the bay but that we couldn’t find when anchoring. There were a couple of deeper spots, but it was debatable whether they were wide enough given we’ve been putting out 50m of chain at each anchorage. The mangroves were very picturesque, and we buzzed in-between with one eye out for crocs.
Trolling on the way back I caught two Spanish mackerel, and struggled to pull up two fish on the lure at once, a trevally and a snapper. Unfortunately, all were undersized and went straight back in. Although we didn’t manage to stock the freezer for our next guests, I think I impressed the people on the Discovery One vessel, who were on the upper deck as I landed some of those fish and must surely think I’m a consummate fisherman who hooks something every time she drops in a line.
Click images to enlarge
Silver Gull Creek
Monday July 5 - Tuesday 6
Monday July 5 - Tuesday 6
Monday, again timing our movements with the tide, we headed to Silver Gull Creek. This is where Phil and Marion, the legends of the Kimberley, had set up a permanent camp and lived for 15 to 20 years until Marion passed away in 2014. The original camp is still there, as well as a couple of eco-tents set up, we were told, by the local traditional owners. There is a fresh-water tank you can swim in but it was getting a bit late for that. Next time. The steep hillsides on either side of the long creek that winds from the main bay are littered with stunning rock formations, and we saw our first croc, and a long-tailed marsupial hopping through the rock outcrop near the camp. What an absolutely magical place!
Click images to enlarge
Click images to enlarge
Tuesday, not long after sunrise and a cup of tea, we headed to Crocodile Creek. I’d barely put the lure in the water as we were coming out of the headland when we had a strike and Colin landed a big tuna. Now that oughta feed our guests for a night or two.
One has to enter Crocodile Creek at high tide to get over the sandbanks that are -0.9m deep at low tide. That’s right, minus 0.9m, which means the basin is land-locked at low water. Coming in we squeezed through a narrow passage to enter a basin that was 12.9m deep at high tide. I was surprised how small it was, given the cruising guide says you can fit four yachts in here. It seemed barely big enough to turn the boat in, which we did a few times before getting tied up to the captain’s satisfaction - bow line to the rope in situ on the wall, and stern line to the ladder. We tried dropping the anchor, as the cruising guide suggests, but it dragged both times, sounding like it was on scraping across rock, so we went with just the two lines which were plenty.
I thought Crocodile Creek to be one of the most extraordinary places on earth, with its changing water level and waterfall, fresh-water pools and crickets and bird noises. A unique paradise. We were soon joined by some run-abouts from Derby, also here for morning paradise while the tide allowed. They were brave enough to swim in the lower pool, which several tour operators have reported seeing crocs in, and lived to tell the tale. Colin and I took the safer option and scaled the rocks next to the falls to reach the beautifully pristine waters of the upper pool, spectacular and serene. Climbing down, Colin had an “Uh-oh” moment when he saw a ranger waiting for us at the bottom, but it turned out she (Chloe) worked with Colin’s niece, Ellen, and was out doing surveys of visitors to the region.
By the time the tide went out all visitors had departed and we had the place to ourselves for the night. We swam in the small pool just before the waterfall into the basin and I enjoyed drifting off to sleep to the sound of falling water. Universe, you have excelled yourself!!
Wednesday morning brought new visitors, early. I was still on my second cup of tea! Colin got chatting to Raphael who had come in on a rather large rib named Bootlegger, and dropped off a group who swam while he took drone footage. Colin was cheeky enough to ask for the drone footage, and Raphael was happy to oblige. They chatted about the unusual and rather extreme weather conditions this year, and Raphael said they’d been hammered further up the coast whilst coming down from Wyndham, and so had decided to spend the next two months in Yampi Sound.
Exploring a different way to the upper pool Colin and I went left of the falls. The route was longer and higher but way safer and easier to negotiate. That didn’t stop us coming back down via the steep and slippery path though.
At the lower pool we chatted with Kevin, referred to by Colin as an RO (rich owner) and some of his guests and crew from the motor yacht Destiny. They were a lovely chatty group, and I love that they named the tender Destiny’s Child. We were curious how much fuel an 80’ motorboat would use, and Kevin approximated 100 litres an hour doing 10 knots. Far out! Fat Blue Sky uses two! We’re generally only making 5 or 6 knots, but even so! Colin calculated it would have cost them $22,000 just to get from Fremantle to Broome.
Thursday morning I mentioned to Colin that I thought I heard a croc slide into the water last night. Colin said it was probably thinking it would get the hell out of the lower pool because it was too bloody busy! There had been an awful lot of people swimming in there over the past two days, obviously not worried that a croc could have slid in during high tide and be lurking on the bottom just waiting…until it’s hungry…or someone’s swimming on their own…or they’re bored. Colin insisted we only swim in the top pool or shallow pond near the ladder, which I obediently agreed to.
Leaving an hour or so before high tide we avoided, as one skipper called it, the ‘cast of thousands’, and got a clear run out.
Click images to enlarge
One has to enter Crocodile Creek at high tide to get over the sandbanks that are -0.9m deep at low tide. That’s right, minus 0.9m, which means the basin is land-locked at low water. Coming in we squeezed through a narrow passage to enter a basin that was 12.9m deep at high tide. I was surprised how small it was, given the cruising guide says you can fit four yachts in here. It seemed barely big enough to turn the boat in, which we did a few times before getting tied up to the captain’s satisfaction - bow line to the rope in situ on the wall, and stern line to the ladder. We tried dropping the anchor, as the cruising guide suggests, but it dragged both times, sounding like it was on scraping across rock, so we went with just the two lines which were plenty.
I thought Crocodile Creek to be one of the most extraordinary places on earth, with its changing water level and waterfall, fresh-water pools and crickets and bird noises. A unique paradise. We were soon joined by some run-abouts from Derby, also here for morning paradise while the tide allowed. They were brave enough to swim in the lower pool, which several tour operators have reported seeing crocs in, and lived to tell the tale. Colin and I took the safer option and scaled the rocks next to the falls to reach the beautifully pristine waters of the upper pool, spectacular and serene. Climbing down, Colin had an “Uh-oh” moment when he saw a ranger waiting for us at the bottom, but it turned out she (Chloe) worked with Colin’s niece, Ellen, and was out doing surveys of visitors to the region.
By the time the tide went out all visitors had departed and we had the place to ourselves for the night. We swam in the small pool just before the waterfall into the basin and I enjoyed drifting off to sleep to the sound of falling water. Universe, you have excelled yourself!!
Wednesday morning brought new visitors, early. I was still on my second cup of tea! Colin got chatting to Raphael who had come in on a rather large rib named Bootlegger, and dropped off a group who swam while he took drone footage. Colin was cheeky enough to ask for the drone footage, and Raphael was happy to oblige. They chatted about the unusual and rather extreme weather conditions this year, and Raphael said they’d been hammered further up the coast whilst coming down from Wyndham, and so had decided to spend the next two months in Yampi Sound.
Exploring a different way to the upper pool Colin and I went left of the falls. The route was longer and higher but way safer and easier to negotiate. That didn’t stop us coming back down via the steep and slippery path though.
At the lower pool we chatted with Kevin, referred to by Colin as an RO (rich owner) and some of his guests and crew from the motor yacht Destiny. They were a lovely chatty group, and I love that they named the tender Destiny’s Child. We were curious how much fuel an 80’ motorboat would use, and Kevin approximated 100 litres an hour doing 10 knots. Far out! Fat Blue Sky uses two! We’re generally only making 5 or 6 knots, but even so! Colin calculated it would have cost them $22,000 just to get from Fremantle to Broome.
Thursday morning I mentioned to Colin that I thought I heard a croc slide into the water last night. Colin said it was probably thinking it would get the hell out of the lower pool because it was too bloody busy! There had been an awful lot of people swimming in there over the past two days, obviously not worried that a croc could have slid in during high tide and be lurking on the bottom just waiting…until it’s hungry…or someone’s swimming on their own…or they’re bored. Colin insisted we only swim in the top pool or shallow pond near the ladder, which I obediently agreed to.
Leaving an hour or so before high tide we avoided, as one skipper called it, the ‘cast of thousands’, and got a clear run out.
Click images to enlarge
Crocodile Creek
Tuesday July 6 - Thursday 8
Tuesday July 6 - Thursday 8
Rise and fall of the tide at Crocodile Creek