I looked out the window to see the silhouette of palm trees across the ridge of the island near our overnight anchorage - it was clear why this was called Palm Island. It was our base for visitng some aboriginal art sites, so after breakfast, accompanied by several 2-3m long lemon sharks that lolled about at the back of the boat, we boarded the dinghies and headed toward the mainland.

The first part of the trip was an excursion up a narrow ancient faultline, now flooded with seawater and lined with mangroves, jumbled rocks, the occasional deep grey shellbed of an aboriginal middens and, at one spot, a nice example of Wandjina artwork, with a pair of black ochre kangaroos on a rock wall.

Retracing our route, we headed west on leaving the channel to land in a rocky cove beneath some towering rock outcrops. This was "The Lost City", where Wandjina and older Gwion Gwion art had been found in the overhangs of the giant sandstone tors. Gronk led us quickly up through the slabby stones and spinifex to the art site, a cool shaded area of overhangs and narrow fissures.

The artwork, including both Wandjina and Gwion Gwion styles, the latter over ten thousand years old was incredible - the photos show it better than any words.

Some more recent artwork featuring a Macassan boat

Examples of aboriginal rock art

Leaving the Lost City, we returned to the boat for lunch, before pulling anchor and crossing to a second art site on the eastern shore of the bay, near Wollaston Island. This was a low-ceilinged cave with a diverse collection of artwork in red, black and white ochre, much of which could only be viewed by crawling into the narrow gap, lying on your back and looking up - amazing.

The site was just behind a gritty-sand beach, so we managed a quick soak in the very salty sea-water, as Oscar, in one of the dinghies, kept a croc-watch out on the water.

It was now time for a big shift in location and Diversity III set sail, heading north to pass the dark basalt plug of Cape Voltaire and the white and pink sandstone of Davidson Point. The sun set as we headed east to pass this large protruding peninsula. With a warm evening breeze, the full-moon reflecting on the sea, a G&T in hand and a plate of home-caught queenfish sashimi, it was a very pleasant passage.

Eventually we turned south again into Walmesley Bay to head towards the entrance of the mighty Mitchell River and our anchorage for the night. Tonight would be an early one, as we needed to be up at 5.30am for the morning fishing expedition. Apparently, the Mitchell is the home of the big barramundi and fishing legends could be made here.

The sun hadn't risen at 5.30 am, but the eastern sky glowed red, as our intrepid band of fisherfolk headed out in search of barramundi. The wind was also up, which didn't help as we crossed the lumpy open water in search of sidecreeks that had the right mix of rock and mangrove mudflat.

After a couple of futile stops, casting and recasting our lures, our luck changed - first Claudia, then I landed a barramundi. At 50cm, mine was just on the small side and we released it back into the water. Still, that was the first time I had caught one of these prized fish and I felt happy for both of us. When we returned, we discovered that in one of the other dinghies, each person had landed a big barra, while the third dinghy scored none - fishing involves a lot of luck. Nonetheless, we would be eating well for the next few dinners.

While all this was happening, Gronk and Kane had gone out to drop some crab pots in amongst the overhanging mangroves of another of the side creeks and everyone on board had the chance to go back in a dinghy and haul up the pots to collect the bountiful harvest of big mud crabs.

The resident crocodiles also took an interest in our mud-crabbing activities - there are a lot of them in the Mitchell River system. Tonight we shall have a seafood feast.

The rest of the morning involved a big excursion in the dinghies - 20 km up the wide Mitchell River inlet, before cutting into the almost hidden entrance of Gurrbirri Creek flowing down a fault line in the King Leopold sandstone. Cruising up its mangrove lined course, we reached the end of the saltwater section at a superb jumble of pink and black sandstone boulders and rock shelves.

View back down Gurrbirri Creek

It was time to disembark and climb up through the boulders to reach the freshwater section of Gurrbirri Creek and Surveyors Pool (or Aunauyu as the traditional owners call it), which is actually a series of beautiful freshwater pools separated by sets of cascades within this sandstone landscape. It was yet another chance for a swim in a cool clear waterhole. The Kimberley certainly does fresh waterholes well.

Surveyors Pool

After returning to Diversity III for a Japanese-style barramundi lunch, we raised anchor and slowly headed off for a long afternoon of sailing - first across the more open waters of Admiralty Gulf, around the convoluted fractal-like headlands of the Bougainville Peninsula and then down into Vansittart Bay to anchor for the night. After the early start to the day, I suspect that more than one person had a siesta on the trip - the fair Nello and I certainly did.

Siesta time ended when we reached the top of the Bougainville Peninsula, where we found ourselves pushing into a big swell and strong easterly winds. This combination of events made for the most rocking and rolling voyage of the trip so far. It took six hours to reach our anchorage in the shelter of Freshwater Bay, a leeward inlet in Vansittart Bay, and by that time at least three of our hearty band of seafarers were not feeling so hearty - dinner in the calm of the bay was a reduced affair, which was a shame, as we had yet another delicious variant of barramundi.

Those who had a queasy crossing all seemed to have recovered by morning. It was just as well, as we needed to be up by 5.30am to go out on an oyster harvesting expedition. A bonus was the superb sunrise over Vansittart Bay.

Sunrise over Vansittart Bay

Freshwater Bay is not only home to a pearling establishment, but the black basalt rocks that surround its shore are home to black-lipped oysters. So, armed with our rusty screwdrivers and hammers, we zipped across from the boat in the dinghies to collect oysters. The early start was due to the tide rising fast, leaving not many oysters exposed, but we managed to collect enough for Danny, our chef, to whip up a great batch of Oysters Kilpatrick for our entree that evening .... mission accomplished.

Then it was time to raise the anchor and sail across Vansittart Bay to a very different part of its shore - a place where a broad sand-clay saltpan lay behind the low white dunes. Here, 0ver 80 years ago, in 1942, a DC3 plane got lost and ran out of fuel, necessitating an emergency landing from over the sea onto the flat claypan. The bad news was that it wasn't wide enough and the plane ended up a broken wreck in the scrub on the far side. The good news was that all survived without serious injury and were rescued by a float plane that landed in the bay a few days later.

The result was that all the cruise boats call by to have a gander at the well-preserved wreckage of the DC3. As Gronk said, "they don't make aluminium like they used to".

Our last little excursion before lunch was to shift a bit further north up the bay and have a swim at a small, but superb white sand beach, wedged between two sets of wind-sculpted rocks. In the meanwhile, the crew headed off and up a mangrove creek system a bit further away to collect baitfish for the afternoon's fishing.

Lunch, itself, was an adventure, as Danny had whipped up a magnificent serving of the mudcrabs that we had harvested yesterday. That preceded moving time and it was time to head back towards the open waters of the Timor Sea, rounding Mary Island and passing between the Niiwalara Islands and the mainland to reach the very large Napier Broome Bay. It was a much smoother crossing and we soon we reached the eastern shore of the bay to drop anchor near the mouth of the Drysdale River.

Three dinghies headed out for a few hours of fishing amongst the mangroves and rock outcrops of the creek system in search of barramundi. I was one of the lucky few to land one, though at 54 cm long, it lived to fight another day. One of the other dinghies came back with a haul of mangrove jacks - more food for the table.

The best part of this fishing trip was to be out on the river water as the sun set pink and orange in the western sky and the glassy water surface picked up its colours - superb. The wind had dropped right down and we could eat dinner out on the open top deck with the light of a full moon glistened across the water .... it doesn't get much better.

Drysdale River sunset

It did, however, get a little more interesting. The crew had organised a trivia night for this evening, but with one stipulation ... people had to wear some of their partners clothes. This led to a jovial cross-dressing evening, seasoned by several of Gronk's salty jokes. For the record, Team 2, comprising Claudia, Kellee, the fair Nello and myself won the trivia quiz.

Yet another early morning start and superb top end sunrise greeted us - today's main activity was a combined fishing trip / waterhole swim deep up the Drysdale River - past the mangrove flats to the point where freshwater flowing down through a rocky gorge met the saltwater of the estuary. It was not only beautiful landscape, but also a place where barramundi liked to hang out.

We had done some casting along the way, at rock outcrops and mangrove overhangs, with a little success (Brian in our dinghy caught and released two barra), but there were slim pickings at the fresh/saltwater convergence. We treated it more as an exploration, seeing how the landscape gradually changed from sandy flats to gorge country with blocky red sandstone cliffs.

On the way back, we were given a send-off by a big 4m croc, who clearly didn't want us on its turf. After a brief stop to collect dry driftwood that had accumulated on a sandy section of the inlet entrance, we headed back to the boat (more of that later).

Big crocs notwithstanding, our dinghy flotilla turned up into a side channel opening out through the mangrove flats and zipped up to a spot where the blocky sandstone landscape took over.

Here, Noseda Creek flowed through the sandstone before tumbling over a 10m waterfall into a deep plunge pool and flowing out over a bouldery streambed into the estuary. Welcome to Pharaoh's Pool, the perfect place for a swim, which we did before heading back to the boat.

Having a swim in Pharaohs Pool

Turbulence where the Indian Ocean and Timor Sea meet

It was already late morning, but time was of the essence as we need to head out of the bay and round Cape Londonderry before too late in the afternoon. Cape Londonderry marks the meeting of the Indian Ocean and Timor Sea - a particularly turbulent meeting of waters. So, it was batten down the hatches and head off - calm until we had rounded Cape Talbot to head east into the swell and then a bit like sailing in a washing machine as we rounded Cape Londonderry. Diversity III pitched and yawed as it crashed through the waves, water splashing over the bridge on occasion or washing across the back deck.

Rough crossing of the open water

This was also the most northerly point and, after passing the cape, we turned south-east into slightly less turbulent seas. Our planned overnight stop was Glycosmis Bay, but it was too exposed to the wind and waves. There would be no beach bonfire tonight.

Kane decided to find a less rocking anchorage and so we pushed on into the darkness and further down the coast. After a few hours of marine adventure, we finally reached calmer waters around 7.30pm and the anchor dropped in the lee of a rocky promontory guarding Koolama Bay. It would be nice to enjoy another superb dinner and sleep peacefully beyond the reach of the Timor Sea.

We were able to gauge our new surroundings as the new day settled in - at the entrance of the mighty King George River and at the start of, arguably, the highlight of our trip. Today we would cruise slowly up the magnificent red-walled gorge of the King George River to reach its end, some 16 km into the Kimberley interior.

Entering the King George River

The twin outflows of the King George Falls

At the end, wedged into two terminal inlets surrounded by shear 100m high red and black-faced rock walls, lay the twin outflows of the Oombulgurri Falls (or King George Falls for the anglophiles). It was time for breakfast on the top deck, surrounded by this magnificent natural cathedral. The left-hand falls dropped 84m and were too powerful to approach, but the right-hand falls, with its twin streams was flowing less strongly and Kane was able to manouvre the front end of the boat right in under the one. What a way to experience their power, as well as having a shower and hydro-massage at the same time.

We ended up spending quite a bit of time, just soaking up the ambience of the gorge and the falls, before slowly making our way back up river. Photos are better than words to show this.

Partway back down the gorge, Diversity III anchored opposite a narrow fissure in its 100m high sheer sandstone walls. Welcome to King's Crack and the opportunity to have a swim in a dark shaded waterhole deep within the fissure.

We boarded the dinghies to land and pick our way carefully over boulders and through water to reach the clear jade coloured water of this deep pool - a great spot for a swim in this mystical setting ... under the watchful gaze of a Mertens water monitor.

On reaching our morning anchorage again, Diversity III stopped. Tonight would be dinner and a bonfire night on nearby Pips Beach and there was a choice of activities - help Gronk build the bonfire and get things ready or do a bit of trolling for queenfish off the sandstone promontory that protected the beach. I chose the latter and spent a lazy time in a dinghy puttering slowly around with a line behind .... lazy but successful, as I managed to catch a couple of queenfish, small for their species, but at 70cm long, the biggest fish I have caught. Queenfish are prized for sashimi, but we had enough from the success of our other trollers, so it was good to be able to release them.

Then it was time for the bonfire and, with all ashore on the white sand beach and the sun setting a fiery red in the west, Gronk's wooden pyramid was lit and burst into flames. Kim popped the champagne corks and we tucked into another delicious dinner. The mood was congenial, the air was warm and the stars above sparkled. As the fair Nello said, it's a shame that such an ambience can't be bottled .... Kimberley Night No. 4, perhaps.

The joviality continued back on the top-deck of the boat, as we headed out from Pips Beach, rounded the promontory and pushed on into the night and the rolling swell of the Timor Sea to the glow of fires burning on the coast .... no, not our bonfire, but mosaic burns carried out to reduce the risk of catastrophic bushfires. We had seen the smoke from these on several occasions in days past.

Fires burning on the Kimberley Coast

It was a bit like being on "The Boat that Rocked" (if you remember that movie) - at first, musically and then physically, which sent us all to our rooms. After a few more hours of pitch and yaw, we finally reached calmer waters around 1.30am and the anchor dropped in the lee of Reverley Island - a peaceful sleep at last.

The big diesel motors started up again before 6am, but it was more of a tactical shift, as we headed back westwards towards the mouth of the Berkeley to have our breakfast while waiting to enter it on a rising tide. This bit of coast-line was unique on our voyage, with its large system of sand dunes and shallow sandy river mouth - very different to the cliff-lined entrance to the King George River.

The mouth of the Berkeley River

The Berkeley, though had its own charms with its flatter and more open landscape. This gradually changed as, rounding a bend, the 220m high mesa of Mt Casuarina appeared, followed by the red lego block rocks of the sandstone plateau.

A gorge was starting to form, increasing in height and verticality, as we slowly made our way more deeply into the river, until it matched the awe of the King George River in every way.

Exploration of the gorge by dinghy

Entering a deep pool that filled a long and straight fissure, we stopped and hopped into the dinghies for a visit to a pair of short, but very interesting side-gorges. The first of these formed a magnificent red and black-rock cirque reaching 100m above our heads. A trickle of water tumbled from the heights, but from the blackened walls, this would be a thundering waterfall in the wet season.

The second was a shallower semi-circle guarded by a small croc, but we could land on a flat rock rim and check it out in more detail. The good news was that we spotted an olive python coiled in the rocks, the bad news was that we also spotted some cane toads - what chance does the python and other native predators have with these toxic invaders spreading through the Kimberley?

Then it was time for a combined fishing / swimming tip, our flotilla of dinghies heading deeper up the Berkeley as the gorge wall slowly diminished in height, until we reached a point where freshwater flowed out through the rocky river bed in a series of mini-rapids. The saltwater-freshwater front is apparently a good place to fish for barramundi, so the group disembarked to cast their lures from the rocks ...... without any luck.

The secret swimming hole

It was time to retrace our steps back to Gronk's secret waterhole - clambering out of the dinghies at a small waterfall to climb up the rocks for a bonus swim a shallow pool .... shallow, but with its surface speckled with the flowers of water-lilies, it was a beautiful setting.

Waterlilies - homage to Monet

It had been a long and interesting morning, followed by a long and interesting lunch as we slowly sailed back up the river to its flatter landscape near the entrance. Here, a second fishing trip was on the cards - I opted out, as a queenfish on my last cast the previous day seemed a good way to finish my fishing activities.

A final swim in a waterhole seemed the better option for oour last activity, so one last voyage of the dinghy fleet took us up a side creek to Cascade Pool, set in a rock bed high above the tidal river and its crocs.

The sun set on our last active day of the cruise and it seemed fitting that, as we set out for a final nocturnal sail down to Wyndham, the near-full moon rose ahead of us over the ocean, its reflection on the waves producing a superb "stairway to the moon".

When we woke next morning, we were moored next to the pier in Wyndham - time for one last breakfast before disembarking and catching the bus on to Kununurra, followed by a series of flights to get home. The cruise had been everything we had hoped for - a mixture of wild untouched landscapes, adventurous activities and a good dose of fishing, seasoned with superb meals (some of which we caught ourselves) and jovial company.

There were four factors that made this such a great cruise.
Diversity III was a really well-designed boat to travel on, with its six double en-suited rooms and spacious living areas. The 360° top deck with its canopy was a great place for alfresco meals or just relaxing while on the move and the forward deck had comfortable seating for all to enjoy the passing scenery. It also had three dinghies, which meant just 4 in each plus the driver for fast, comfortable and frequent excursions from the catamaran.

The crew of Diversity III were great - our skipper Kane, master chef Danny who conjured up superb lunches and dinners each day, ever-attentive and cheerful steward Kim, and crewmen, dinghy drivers and fishing instructors, Gronk and Oscar - really a multi-talented bunch as everyone pitched in to make the activities work so well and be so enjoyable. Gronk's knowledge of the Kimberley, from a lifetime of experience, was a bonus.

With only 12 passengers, we formed one congenial group that shared all the adventures, christened the "salty sea dogs". Truth be told, there is always a slight worry when you join unknown people for two weeks together, but I think we all agreed at the end that we were blessed to have 12 easy-going folk who quickly clicked and spent a very pleasant, jovial and often irreverent time together. Good company makes for a good trip - thanks to Claudia and Wayne, Bruce and Michelle, Paul and Kathy, Brian and Kellee, Rob and Marg, and of course the fair Nello.

The final factor is, of course, the superb and untouched landscape of the Kimberley Coast.