Story and Photographs by Jad Davenport

The National Geographic Orion, a luxury expedition

ship, steams along the wild Kimberley Coast of Western

Australia, where barrier reefs meet the Outback.

Aboard the luxury ship Orion, Australia’s Kimberley Coast—an untouched world of towering waterfalls, exotic animals, and sacred sites—becomes your own private paradiseVoyage

Back in Time

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Clockwise from top, left: A private sailboat moored on the King George River; grilled prawns for lunch aboard the Orion; a saltwater crocodile basking in the sun on the Hunter River; Sacred Heart Church in Beagle Bay, decorated with mother-of-pearl shells in a nod to the pearling culture that has developed along this part of the coast; relaxing on the upper deck of Orion. Opposite: An Orion Zodiac approaches the hauntingly beautiful King George Falls.

Paradise Found

The orange canyon unfolds in fronT of our Zodiac like a stone labyrinth. Our guide tips his head back and surveys the towering walls. “This is the most ancient coastline in the world,” he says, letting the inflat-able boat drift for a moment on the still waters of the Indian Ocean. “These rocks are 2 billion years old.”

There are 10 of us on the Zodiac, which launched from the luxury expedition ship National Geographic Orion. We’re on a two-week voyage to explore the Kimberley Coast, Australia’s newest and hottest travel destination.

Few Americans have ever heard of the Kimberley Coast, but for Aussies the California-sized region is an almost mythic wilderness. “The Kimberley is our Alaska—Australia’s last frontier,” a retired banker from Sydney tells me. We’re relaxing on two deck chairs, lis-tening to the ice in our gin and tonics fizz and pop while rocky headlands scroll past. We haven’t seen a building, a cell phone tower, or even another ship since we left the beach town of Broome several days ago. Instead we’re immersed in a landscape that looks like it came straight out of a John Wayne Western, all lapped by the green-blue waters of the Indian Ocean.

Up ahead the canyon dead-ends in a narrow slot. The formerly quiet fjord is now foaming like a class IV rapid on the Colorado River.

“Hold on to your hats!” Max shouts. “We’re about to run through the Horizontal Waterfall.”

We heed his advice, taking cover as the Zodiac lurches forward and the world spins in a chaos of spray and shadow. This waterfall—really a tidal surge—occurs when ocean tides pour in and out of these narrow gorges.

We emerge through the keyhole, and on the far side of the gap the landscape falls away. I marvel at the pre-historic jumble of Fred Flinstone towers and Martian-red buttes. Here in this quiet canyon 30 times older than the Grand Canyon, I realize that I’m not just cruising between ports, I’m also making a journey back in time.

Perhaps it’s ironic that the easiest way to explore this tropical desert isn’t by camel, the way earlier explorers did, but by ship. The Orion, a sleek, German-crafted mega-yacht with 53 large staterooms, is the most lux-urious vessel voyaging along this coast. Her small size and shallow draft allow the ship to venture far up the hidden fjords. And once anchored, it takes only a few

Get Here

Back on the Orion, as the sun sinks into the Indian Ocean, we gather on the upper deck to watch the last rays of light reflecting on the Kimberley’s stone pali-sades. The rocks radiate a molten red in the dying glow—they almost seem to be lit from within. I often sit out here long after the sun is down, and let the desert chill fall on my shoulders while the Milky Way wheels in the sky overhead.

The coastline alternates between battlement sea cliffs and long, white sand beaches. At Vansittart Bay I follow a set of dingo tracks among sand dunes so perfect I could be walking along the Cape Cod National Seashore. It takes every bit of my self-control not to sneak a quick dip in the alluring ocean. But then I remember Darrin’s warning—and his promise.

He’s smiling when he greets me on deck the next morning. “Bring your cozzie today,” he says, using the Australian slang word for bathing suit. “We’re headed to the Kimberley’s most beautiful—and crocodile-free—swimming pool.”

The Orion anchors at the mouth of the King George Falls at Koolama Bay, a winding gorge footed with beaches and tinseled with waterfalls. We land beneath a cliff near the thundering falls, and a few of us hike up a steep, rocky trail. A sweaty half hour later we catch our breath on top of the Mitchell Plateau, a scrubby, flat plain that stretches inland as far as I can see. And then I see it: what is probably one of the world’s most stunning—and natural—infinity pools, a percolating basin on the very brink of the falls. I strip off and

plunge in, letting the stone-cold water rinse away a layer of red Outback dust.

I prop my elbows on the sun-warmed sandstone and peer over the edge of the falls, where the river tumbles nearly 30 stories into a cloud of mist. For once I’m not just seeing time; I’m feeling it swirl around me. This cold water may have fallen a few months ago, or risen up from some sub terranean river a billion years ago.

That, then, is the gift of the Kimberley: not just a glimpse back in time, but also a journey there. But here, in this serene swimming hole, gazing over an ancient abyss, the past is long gone. I’m in the now.

Jad Davenport is a frequent Coastal Living contributor. He is lucky enough to have visited Australia 10 times—every state and territory except for Tasmania.

Explore the rugged Kimberley Coast on a 14-day expedition aboard the National

Geographic Orion ($8,120 per person) mid-May to mid-August; expeditions.com.

Qantas Airlines has the best connections from the United States to the port cities of Broome and Darwin; qantas.com.au. Stay at the Cable

Beach Club Resort in Broome, which has cozy water-view suites. Rates start at $199;

cablebeachclub.com.

Tourists ride camels along Cable Beach near the coastal town of Broome, the gate- way to Western Australia’s Kimberley Coast.

minutes for crew members to lower a fleet of rugged Zodiacs into the sea, load them up with guests, and head off exploring even deeper.

If I’m supposed to be exploring, I feel a bit as though I’m cheating. My cabin—one of the owner’s suites—is on the starboard side. If I were so inclined on this northbound voyage, I could enjoy the magnificent Kimberley Coast without doing more than sliding open the doors on my balcony. And with five-star cuisine, an elegant spa, and room service constantly appearing with chocolate-covered strawberries and chilled Möet, it would be easy to do just that.

BuT The raw BeauTy Beyond The Balcony beckons. On one bright morning in the romantic-sounding Buccaneer Archipelago, Orion drops anchor. While we enjoy eggs Benedict with fresh salmon on the upper deck, the crew prepares the Zodiacs. Orion has arranged special permission for us to visit one of the most sacred Aboriginal sites in Australia.

Within an hour our small fleet arrives on the shores of a cobblestone beach at Raft Point. While we gather in the shade of some fat boab trees and prepare to make the hike up a forested saddle, I ask Darrin, one of the Orion onboard naturalists, if I can take a minute to jump in the sea for a swim.

“I reckon you can jump in and swim just fine,” he says. “It’s the getting-out-without-being-eaten part that might be tricky.” The Kimberley waters, Darrin explains, are the domain of the saltwater crocodile.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “We have some secret spots along the coast that the crocs don’t know about.”

At the top of the saddle, where the ridge rises from a eucalyptus forest, Darrin leads our group to the mouth of a cave. Inside, ghostly white and red figures cover the walls. “Scientists will tell you these paintings are at least 4,000 years old,” he says.

But the Aboriginal people have a different view: These aren’t even paintings at all, they say, but instead the shadows of the Wandjinas, spirits who formed the Earth during a period called “Dreamtime.” Which means that these haunting figures were created here at the very beginning of time.

Over the next few days, the Orion zigzags her way north and east along the coast. We make our Zodiac journeys ashore every day, once in the morning and again in the afternoon. Sometimes we enjoy chocolate ice-cream cones on pristine sandbars miles out at sea. Other times we cruise up narrow gorges and are sur-prised by a Zodiac from the ship’s kitchen bearing flutes of Champagne and plates of sushi.

On day nine, things get really interesting: A pair of helicopters appears out of nowhere and shuttles us—doors off—far into the Outback. From the air I realize that the coastline I’ve seen is just a small glimpse of the vast Kimberley. The palm forests, fern-draped gorges, and rocky ridges stretch on to the horizon in every direction. We eventually land on a dry riverbed and hike out to a hidden waterfall, where we cool our feet and enjoy the chilly mist.