Sunday, July 03, 2022

Prince Regent River (The Kimberley)

[Kyle]From what Maryanne dubbed ‘Sunset Beach’ back at South Montague Sound, we took three days to get to the entrance to the Prince Regent River via the St. George Basin. We arrived at high tide and anchored in the inlet opposite Uwins island, just north of Whirlpool Pt.


Sailing West - Transitting Scott Strait


Sailing West - Anchored at CapePond: Augereau Island


Sailing West - Anchored at Coronation Island

This entire area is unsurveyed, apart from the deep middle, presumably for the benefit of the cruise ships. Our anchorage had an unhelpful, blanket 0-20m depth shading. As we entered, we found it to vary wildly between 18m and 60m. As we approached the spot we had hoped to set our anchor, the bottom quickly rose to six, then four meters. Yikes!

Four meters wouldn’t ordinarily be a problem, but this area of the Kimberley has seven-meter tides. We were looking for something in the nine-to-ten-meter range. We hunted around for quite a while before finding one where we could swing any direction and not end up with less than a meter-and-a-half at low tide.

A couple hours after we arrived, two private power boats appeared on AIS. The big yacht continued on, but the smaller one (still big) anchored near us after their own half-dozen tries. They had three tenders; one on deck at the bow, one on the swim transom and a one being towed behind.


Anchored at Whirlpool pond inlet

Once they were settled, they deployed the transom tender. That seemed strange because nobody was using the one already afloat. The transom upon which the tender was mounted was one of those fancy hydraulic ones that lowers into the water like the lift on the back of a delivery truck. Once it was down and the tender was floated off to make space, and two of the boat’s occupants climbed down to it and sat there half-submerged, chatting and having drinks for an hour or so.

This was nuts! The North American equivalent would be drying your freshly hunted meat on the roof of your tent in bear country. Rule 2 and 3 of staying safe in crocodile territory are: 2) Don’t go in salt water, and 3) Stay away from the water’s edge. The Kimberley has a lot of tour boat traffic (in this case, a lot is a few dozen per year), but most of that is confined to the beauty spots on the well-worn path. The vast majority of it is trackless wilderness, of which the coastal areas are riddled with crocs. It’s their country. They outnumber us and they have been here a lot longer. Days in which we don’t see a croc are the minority and that’s probably because they are really good at hiding. On the other hand, Rule One is: If you really want to go into the water, have someone else do it for half an hour first. Maybe that’s why the Bateman’s are always invited.

Just after the next morning’s low tide, we raised anchor and headed upstream against the morning land breeze. Even though fighting the twenty-five knot winds had us slowed down to two-and-a-half knots through the water on a single engine, the flooding current kept our speed over the bottom between six and eight knots.

Once we were through the wide St. George’s Basin and into the narrow St. Regent River, the chop subsided and we had just enough current left to get us all of the way to the last all-tide anchorage before King Cascade Falls. Beyond and for two miles behind us, apart from a few deep pools, the river dries to a series of mudbanks at low tide.


We entered the Prince Regenet River and made it to King Cascade Falls at high tide so were able to pop into this small cove with Begonia!

Once the water came back the next morning, Maryanne and I boarded the dinghy for the five-mile trip further up the river to Cathedral Falls. As we went further upstream, the amount of floating debris increased until we had to weave our way through. Along the way, we met the very nice crew from the big motor yacht we had seen two nights before as they went by in two tenders.

The turnoff for Cathedral Falls is a narrow one between closely-spaced mangroves. The tenders continued farther up the river. We were watching them recede and almost missed it. Inside, we came to the terminal rock ledge at the base of the pool and scrambled up the boulders. As we were looking for a place on the shore high enough to wedge the anchor. The incoming tide rose fast enough to raise the pudgy above the rocks and sweep it into the pool at the base of the falls. Well, that sorts that out.

Maryanne and I each had a good rinse in the cascade at the ledge above the pool. When we were finished, we were sitting on a rock in the shade to enjoy a snack when the two tenders arrived. They timed it perfectly. Now the water was now high enough for them to drive right up to the base of the falls and step off their boats without any of the scrambling we had done.




Dinghy trip to Cathedral Falls - Bats, birds and a shower!

At high water, we left and let the ebb take us back downstream to Begonia with only minimal help from our electric outboard. Just before we got there, we pulled into the basin at King’s Cascade Falls for another look. We took Begonia in the day we arrived and then came by again in the dinghy on the way upstream. There is supposed to be a trail to the top that begins just north of the falls, but the tide had been too low then to access the most likely place of its start without traversing a mudbank. There was a croc studying us, so we weren’t about to try it.

By afternoon the falling tide was still high enough for us to be able to tie the dinghy alongside a sheer wall and exit vertically without having to touch the water. We found the trail and managed to climb up to the ledge. From there, our top three choices for continuing to the croc-free pools at the top of the falls were all poorly worn gaps through spinifex that might have been trails used by humans or just as likely made by wallabies. We tried for a while and then gave up.

It’s a good thing we did. By the time we got back to the dinghy, it was grounded and half out of the water on a couple of boulders. It was quite a struggle for us both to muscle it off and back into the water using lines and sticks from above to avoid going into the water. Once we were aboard, we high-tailed it home to watch the river around us slowly change to mud. Once it did, we knew we would have the place to ourselves until the next morning’s high tide.

That evening after dark, we were on deck having a last check on things before turning in, when we saw the coolest thing. Above us, whole long single or double-file lines of bats approached and peeled away to rejoin the queue, their wings all making whispered whoosh, whoosh, whoosh sounds. It took a moment to figure out what was happening; They were chasing and eating the bugs that were attracted to our anchor light. That’s win-win. More bugs for them, less for us!

In order to move on, we needed to wait for the water to return at midday. That gave us a guilt-free sleep-in. While we waited, a whole floating tree hit us going upstream. There was no damage, but it perked us up. We even saw a solitary dolphin way up here, thirty miles from the sea.

Once the tide was up, we went six miles down the river to the confluence with Camp Creek. There, we anchored next to a small cruise ship that was doing helicopter tours. We asked them if they would take outsiders. They said we were welcome, but since it would just be us, we would have to pay for all of the seats. That nudged it firmly out of our price range, which may have been the point, since it looked like the day was winding up for them.





A calm morning to Exploring Camp Creek (by dinghy)

On the next morning’s rising tide, we took the dinghy up Camp Creek. We had a strong suspicion that all of the other tour boats in river would be leaving once the water was high enough. Guests don’t want to pay a small fortune for a cruise and then stay in the same spot for days. As we went upriver, we poked into every inlet we found along the way and only spotted one small (1 ½ meter) croc. As we left the mangroves and approached the rocky gorge by the falls, we were surprised to round the corner and find someone walking around on the rocks.

Farther around, we spotted another and then another and then finally a whole group of about twenty people came into view. They were well-equipped and even had with tables and chairs. I guessed that the helicopter boat had shuttled them over for something to do while the tide came up.

When Maryanne and I finally climbed ashore, we were on the opposite side of the river from the group. We tried looking for places to cross, but always came to a spot that was too wide, deep, or fast running to traverse. We knew we could find a spot if we went far enough upstream, but it soon became clear that popping over for a quick hello was not something we could fit into our schedule. We had to settle for a friendly wave. There was much to see and we needed to get back to the dinghy before the falling tide grounded it.

Luckily, there was one Japanese tourist on our side who greeted us and explained what was going on. The group was not from the helicopter boat anchored next to Begonia, but a different, smaller boat that runs out of the nearby settlement of Derby. This boat is too small to accommodate everyone aboard for the night, so it shuttles its guest to sites like this to camp for the night. This group had been here two nights and were waiting for the imminent high tide for a pickup. Maryanne and I bid him farewell and headed upstream.

There is no trail up the river, but there is plenty of bare rock along the left-hand side upon which to walk. In one narrow, slippery spot, some kind soul had fixed a short length of rope for help in traversing. Along the way, we passed lots of big billabongs lined with reeds and lilly pads interspersed with smaller rocky pools surrounded by sculpted stone. It would be easy for fifty people to divide into groups of two or three and find a perfect little cooling off spot for each. Camp Creek is my favorite stop in the Prince Regent River.

After the second major set of falls, the going became more difficult. The flat rocks underfoot changed to boulders interspersed with scratchy spinifex. We pressed on and eventually made it to our goal, a big waterfall dropping off of the edge of the escarpment above into a large pool.

I found a spot where I could stand at the edge of the reeds and called Maryanne over. Just before she got to me, she disturbed a snake. It was only a tiny thing, but it wasn’t happy with her and was facing her in strike position. Remembering that baby snakes generally have more potent venom, she gave it a disproportionate berth.

Back at the dinghy after a short dip, the group of campers was gone. Maryanne and I took it to the other side of the river to where they had been and had a quick look around before the tide got too low. Just as I was about to step back into the boat, we both spotted what looked like a not too bad route up a rubble pile to the top of the cliffs. One quick glance between us and we both knew we were each thinking about trying it. I mean, it was right there! Maryanne finally volunteered to stay in the dinghy to keep it afloat in the middle of the river while dashed up to see if I could get all of the way to the top.

My way was made easier by what had been a recent fire. There was no spinifex to clog my passage, but everything I touched left me covered with streaks of charcoal. So much for being clean. After only a few minutes, I was finally able to stand at the edge and wave to Maryanne below. She yelled up at me to return soon.

While I was gone, she had been found by the flies. These were the typical Western Australia ones that try to drive you mad by landing on your eyeballs and flying up your nose. So far, we had only run across a few small isolated groups of these. This was our first swarming of the trip. We know they get more common the farther west we go, so that’s something to look forward to.


Our last night was spent anchored off Python Cliffs (Saint George Basin)

Our ride out of the Prince Regent wasn’t as straightforward as the way in. Only half of the falling tide was in daylight, so we broke our exit into two legs. After the first day, we pulled out of the main route and anchored in a pretty spot at the seaward end of the St. George Basin. There was little in the way of diversions there, apart from some amazing long views of the ochre cliffs on the distant mountains. We needed another day for the morning ebb to migrate into daylight, so we took the opportunity to do some minor maintenance, loaf and enjoy the amazing scenery.

[Maryanne]Thinking of visiting the Kimberley with your own boat? – Check out our Cruising the Kimberley Tips

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