THE ARTERIES OF THE KIMBERLEY
The hallways of exploration are decorated with the conquests of our forebears, each of whom challenged the limits of possibility, rolled the dice and ventured off into the unknown. Success was most often measured by a triumphant return, with a flag firmly planted in the ground, marking a new boundary or new frontier. As each chapter of exploration closes, a new one soon opens; the introduction of new technologies allows new ways and new frontiers to be explored. Even today, the accolades for exploration are still bestowed on those who push the furthest, go the fastest, or discover some new frontier. Endorsements and notoriety seem only for those who score a blockbuster headline and a new entry in the history books.
And so it was, with this same mindset, that I first began to plot my own adventure along the waterways of the Kimberley. It remained with me, right to the point that I pulled my first stroke through its tepid brown waters. And then, as I began floating down the river, these thoughts were washed away. The sheer size and scale of this place, the timelessness and cultural history of the Indigenous Australians who’ve wandered these lands for thousands of years prior, washed away any remnant of explorer’s hubris I may have held. I was simply another white fella afforded the privilege of experiencing this land. Over the next two weeks, paddling these waterways, any thoughts of creating some new event of historical significance would be like claiming that emptying my water bottle into the river would somehow influence the relentless flow of the river.
FLIGHT INTO THE BUSH
We landed in Broome on the sixth of February. With the ecstasy of exploration coursing through our veins, we began prepping for the next leg of the journey. As
