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I am haunted by waters.
– Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It

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Dawn comes fast up here: the last embers of smoke hang in the sky, painting it shades of violet through the humming pixels of my swag. Lake Argyle is somewhere over those trees, down the ochre cliffs, as black as a starless night now, unstirred. I can almost smell it, the belly of the Kimberley, swollen from the rains like so many distended boabs.

I’m running our 2022 Kimberley Photography Tagalong up the Gibb and this is, officially, day one. We’ll be spending 12 days headed up the Gibb River Road.

The lake seems the perfect place to begin our journey west through a landscape that is, and has always been, shaped by water more than anything else; from the gorges chiseled into naked rock by rivers and rivulets to the rain-carved spires of coral reef, created by the sea, slowly serrated by the sky.

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We have a relaxed breakfast of bacon and eggs in the shade of a pair of boabs before heading down the road to drive across the dam – an earth and stone engineering marvel that holds back roughly 1000 square kilometres of water singlehandedly. The hydroelectric station at the base of the dam easily provides enough power for Kununurra and the diamond mines perched throughout the Carr Boyd Range.

In the afternoon, we jump on our boat for a sunset cruise to watch the sun set over the water. The lake is still young, only 41 years old, but it is full of catfish, freshwater crocodiles and archerfish, and the banks are littered with short-eared rock wallabies if you’re keen-eyed.

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From Lake Argyle we head west to El Questro. But first, even if it isn’t quite on the way, a crossing of Ivanhoe Crossing on the Ord is always in order. Not only is it beautiful, but on the right day there are good barra here below the causeway for the dedicated angler.

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The Gibb, for the first hundred kilometres or so, is paved. It is a far cry from the cattle route that marched man and animal through a rain-carved, sun-scorched hell for weeks to get them off the land and on to boats at Wyndham and Derby. And then, you get to El Questro, the first of the great Kimberley cattle stations along this mythical road, and perhaps the richest trove of waterfalls, hikes and experiences to be found in the northwest.

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We stay at El Questro for four nights, and that is barely enough time to scratch the surface here. With Home Valley closed the past few years, at first I was disappointed. Then I spent some time exploring new gorges on El Questro, falling in love with the place all over again, and realised the extra time here was well spent.

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Our first stop is always Emma Gorge. This is arguably the jewel of the East Kimberley. The hike in is all uphill into a horseshoe canyon, with a beautiful turquoise pool just before the last hundred meters into the gorge.

Emma is notoriously ice cold, as it’s huddled in shade for most of the day. The pool further down is my pick for a better swim, and almost never has anyone else in it!

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In the afternoon we head up to Saddleback Ridge. The track is a serious one, requiring low range 4WD to crawl up the steep switchbacks to the top of the ridge. The reward at the top is a sunset deck with benches and tables where we mingle, sip bubbly, nibble on cheeses and set up for a dusty red sunset looking out over the three million acre station.

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One of the biggest lessons, when it comes to sunset photography out here, is that the point where our star drops below the horizon is just the beginning of the real show, as the sky deepens from vermillion to blood red, painted by ash and smoke.

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Palm-shaded and running in two streams through a tiny hollow, one hot, one cool, mixing in a series of shallow pools, Zebedee Springs is a truly magical place. Perhaps there is a mental exhaustion further west after seeing a dozen different cascades and waterfalls, but I have never seem a human walk away from Zebedee without a smile, and everyone always agrees this is their favourite waterhole on the Gibb. These might just be healing waters.

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El Questro has several great lookouts worth the drive. Aside from Saddleback, my two favourite spots out here are Branco’s Lookout and Pigeon Hole. They both overlook long u-bends in rivers, with the former over the Pentecost, looking east, and the latter overlooking the Chamberlain River, looking west.

Both lookouts require a pretty wild drive, with Branco a bit more demanding as you have to cross the Chamberlain to get there, and it’s one of the rougher tracks on the station.

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Amalia Gorge is a beautiful hike up a creek bed into a massive red canyon, with several deep pools along the way, culminating in a massive, ice cold plunge at the end with a 200 foot waterfall misting down over black stone.

It is my favourite hike on the station, with enough time left in the day for us to head all the way out to the Pentecost for fishing in the afternoon.

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Time begins to dilate and contract out here at its own pace, woven into the ancient stone, into the steady patience of the trickling water that has sliced clean through two billion years of buried secrets. We play like children in the rainwater-filled wounds that the rainbow serpent has left cauterised in the earth.

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I have caught my biggest barramundi in the Pentecost River, looking out over the mighty Cockburn Range. But what makes barra special is that they are wily, shy and temperamental. To get one on your hook is half the battle. To get it out of the water is the other half.

Tonight, just as the sun rests, the moon rises fat and full, shimmering over the crest of the range into the smokey belt of Venus, reflected in the still black eye of the Pentecost.

THE END – Pt 1…continued in Pt II next week

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