Feeling slightly under the weather after our unexpectedly big night on Luna Sea, I was very grateful for the calm waters we encountered rounding Cape Londonderry. Cape Londonderry is the northern most part of the mainland of Western Australia and it is here that tidal currents coming across from Cape Talbot converge with currents coming in from the Joseph Bonaparte Gulf. In strong winds, the converging currents cause a turbulent and confused sea state with steep waves. However, we had light winds of around 10 knots, and although we had to motor over and around the Cape as the wind was directly in front, we were eventually able to turn the engine off and sail slowly south into Napier Broome Bay.
Underwhelmed at Pago Ruins
Dave and Michelle from Luna Sea had talked up the ruins and abandoned homestead in the corner of Mission Cove, near where we anchored at the bottom of Napier Broome Bay. So we set off to find the remains of the Pago Mission which was set up by Benedictine monks in the early 1900s but long since abandoned. The beach where we landed was scattered with 44 gallon drums leftover by the American Army in World War II. We also found an abandoned house, built much more recently than the 1900s and littered with rubbish. Outside was a recently serviced payphone that we unfortunately couldn’t get to work. After wandering around for a while, we finally came upon a few remnants of structures from the mission. We took a few photos but didn’t have the energy or inclination to continue searching for more ruins. It was oppressively hot with little breeze, so we decided to return Matt’s camera to the yacht and take the tinny around to Honeymoon Bay where ice cream and cold drinks awaited us.
Ice Cream and Phone Calls at Honeymoon Bay
There is a caravan park at Honeymoon Bay run by a friendly lady called Joy who was happy to serve us ice cream cones and cold cans of Coke. What a treat! We devoured these as we chatted to Adam and Monita, who had arrived there as well. Joy had WiFi that we could use, so we raced off to get our laptop so that Matt could connect to the internet and update Lightroom, our photo editing software. The best thing about Honeymoon Bay, however, was the community payphone out the front of the office. Joy informed us that all calls were free, including to mobiles anywhere in Australia. The WA Government had organised this for all community phones during covid and hadn’t changed it back yet. How handy for us!! We both rang our families and had a good old chat, it having been three weeks since we’d last had any phone reception. It was lovely to hear their voices and tell them what we’d been up to. Joy also sold me a dozen eggs and two avocadoes, making me a very happy lady. It’s the simple things in life!
Back around in Mission Cove, we saw that the catamaran Duet had arrived. The name rang a bell so we went and introduced ourselves and met Nigel and Kerry, friends of Brian and Sandra and Terry and Leonie. It’s a small world, this cruising community!! We had already invited Adam and Monita from The Big Kahuna over for drinks so we extended the invitation to Nigel and Kerry as well and had a lovely evening on Cool Change chatting all things Kimberley and cruising.
DC 3 Wreck
After an overnight stop at Sir Graham Moore Island at the top of Napier Broome Bay, we caught the tide through Geranium Harbour early the next morning, sailing with full sails and the assistance of the current. There were some strong eddies pushing us around as we passed by Middle Rock, but the calm sea state meant we had no trouble. I can see how it could be dangerous in strong winds, however.
Slowly sailing south into Vansittart Bay, we anchored off the mainland where the guidebook indicated. We were stopping here to see a plane, an American Douglas C-53 (DC3) that was wrecked here in 1942. The plane made a forced landing here after the pilot had become disorientated in bad weather and was then running low on fuel. Incredibly, all four of the crew and passengers survived the landing and were rescued three days later.
We bashed our way through scrub at the edge of the salt pans before finally emerging out onto the flat space and spotting the wreck. We could then clearly see a much easier route straight across the salt pans from the sand dunes of the beach where we were anchored. Suffice to say, the way back to the boat was a whole lot easier. We wandered around the plane, marvelling at its surprisingly good condition, considering it has lain there for nearly 80 years.
Arriving back on the beach, we could see that the calm conditions were no longer and Cool Change was bouncing around on the anchor. It was time to move on!
Meeting Frank at Low Island
With the wind from the north, we abandoned our plan of anchoring in Maia Cove, deciding instead that we would find calmer water tucked in on the southern side of Low Island. As it was, the wind dropped off as we anchored, and not long after, all was calm and still. I went downstairs for a shower and was just about to jump under when I heard Matt whispering loudly but urgently, ‘Hurry, hurry, hurry, come up here now.’ I raced upstairs, completely nude, to find myself face to face with a huge croc staring up at me only metres from the boat. I shivered. He had a massive head and was a mean looking guy. Matt christened him Frank and raced down to grab his camera. I felt strangely exposed to be nude in front of Frank, with those beady eyes trained on me.
We sat and watched Frank for a while, in fascination and awe of this prehistoric monster. He swam and floated around the boat for ages, with a large part of his head and body protruding above the water. Not for Frank the “minimum exposure” posture that we’d learnt about. You had the distinct sense that you were in his territory and he was checking you out. Frank kept edging closer and closer to the boat, but if we stood up or walked right to the stern, he would back off slightly. He could definitely tell that we were watching him.
Frank seemed very interested in our tinny floating off the back of the yacht and approached it closely on several occasions. While we weren’t worried about the tinny itself, as he couldn’t do much damage to the boat or the motor, I was concerned that if he got too curious overnight and possibly flipped it, that we would lose our oars and safety equipment that was inside. And so we decided to get our stuff out, just in case. Yes, that’s right, one of us was going to have to get down and reach into the boat, just metres from where Frank swam, watching.
After contemplating this for a while, I said ‘Let’s do it now, while we can at least see him, before it gets dark.’ Matt agreed. We pulled the tinny in until it lay across the stern, tying it close. Matt carefully climbed in and began to pass stuff up to me as I kept my eyes firmly on Frank. Was he edging closer? Maybe, it was hard to tell. But at least I could see him and at least he was still several metres off. I had my eyes glued to Frank and was just feeling for what Matt was handing me. But I must have blinked, because one second he was there and I was staring at him, and the next second he was gone. Frank had literally disappeared underwater in the blink of an eye. A bolt of fear shot down my spine and a wave of panic washed over me. ‘Matt, I can’t see him. Get out now!’
Matt leapt out of the tinny and I sighed with relief. He was safe! And we’d gotten what we needed out so now Frank could be as curious as he liked. Phew!
Rock Art at Jar Island
There are two art sites on Jar Island, one in the north east and another on the south west. We anchored off the north eastern beach and followed the well worn track towards the caves. This site is visited by lots of charter boats, so was particularly easy to find. The art was pretty easy to spot and it was some of the first real rock art paintings that we’d seen.
Since it was so calm and we didn’t fancy dodging pearl moorings to re-anchor off the south western beach, we took the tinny the mile around to the next site. We had trouble finding the right spot, so eventually went back for the tablet and GPS co-ords. (Hint – if you are on the right beach there will be a sign from the Wanambal Gambera people.) Well, by the time we made it to the right location, the tide was rising and the salt pans that the guidebook says to walk across were no longer accessible. We did a lot of pretty dodgy rock climbing and scrambling to get to the other side, and with some difficulty eventually found the art sites. But it was worth all the effort because they contained some really great and clear pictures.
Not wanting to repeat the dodgy rock climbing exercise on the way back, we decided to see if we could make it across the suggested path, even if that was mostly under water. We rock hopped where we could, before coming to a section where the only way across was under water. It was only a short distance, and the water was only about waist high. Still, the thought of lurking crocs was ever present in our minds. The water was clear and Matt had observed it for a while, so after chucking a few rocks in the water and not seeing any movement, we were pretty sure the waters were croc free. Taking a deep breath and hoisting our packs over our heads, we waded through the waist deep water as quickly as we could. All good! At low tide, it would be an easy and dry walk across!
Upon first arriving at the little cove, Matt had spotted a big croc lying in the shallows at one end of the beach. When we returned from visiting the art sites he was out of the water, lying on the sand. And he was huge!! Matt ventured closer to get some pics. When he slid back into the water, Matt returned and I did my eyes glued on croc routine as we quickly readied the tinny to hop in and drive away.
Seeing the size of this guy out of the water made us realise just how big our friend Frank at Low Island had been. While this guy looked big when he was in the water, he didn’t look as big as Frank. Yet this guy was huge when you could see the size of his whole body, not just his head and tail. It made us realise that Frank must have been one enormous crocodile indeed.
Swimming Holes at Freshwater Bay
It was time for a rest day and Freshwater Bay seemed the perfect spot; picturesque and protected. There was a catamaran anchored there when we arrived, but they left early the next morning, so we were alone again. The seas were calm so we ventured out into the main channel to Boab Beach, and although the huge boab tree which had given the beach its name was no longer, there were two other very pretty boabs growing along the beach. I found some of their seed pods which have a soft furry velvet-like covering.
On investigating the creek further along, we found the tide too low to allow us safe passage, so we returned to the boat. Our jobs began; making water and washing laundry. When the tide was nearing High Water we happily abandoned our jobs and went to explore the nearby creek in the SE corner of Freshwater Bay. Tying up to the rock bar, we discovered a series of little freshwater pools, with mini waterfalls cascading into many of them. It was very pretty. While Matt took photos, I kept investigating and further along I found the best swimming hole we’d seen yet. You could actually immerse your whole body and swim without touching the bottom. We revelled in the feeling and floated luxuriously in the refreshing water. Crystal clear and croc free! Paradise!
Back at the rock bar, we put the drone up and while Matt was taking photos I gazed out across the creek. Suddenly I realised the large log I’d been looking at had transformed into a crocodile. ‘Matt, Matt, Matt, croc, over there!!’ I exclaimed. Matt brought the drone over and hovered it above the croc, managing to get some photos of us and the croc. Having seen our friend over there, it was time to pack up and head off, before he decided to come over and introduce himself.
Back onboard, we completed our jobs and watched as a huge lemon shark did laps of the boat. Apparently these guys are quite docile, and Matt tried to pat him but couldn’t quite reach.
We’d had a wonderful time in Vansittart Bay. The Kimberley just kept giving us more and more incredible sights and experiences. We couldn’t wait to see what lay ahead.
Adventure is worthwhile.
Aristotle
Cool Change 