The Kimberley ... via the slow lane

‘Things take time in the Kimberley’. I can still hear old Taffy Abbot’s famous catchphrase echoing through my mind, since I first heard him reciting it to guests of Mount Hart Station in the 90’s.

It is true that the Kimberley moves to its own rhythm. Crocodiles slowly navigate winding rivers; whistling kites circle overhead, scanning the landscape ever so carefully for their prey; and the sun ceremoniously sinks into the Indian Ocean every day as it has since the beginning of time.

Upon arrival into the Kimberley, visitors immediately surrender to the relaxed pace. In the bustling tourist hub of Broome, the term ‘Broome time’ was coined to acknowledge the chilled out vibe of this slow moving coastal town.

In my younger years as a student of Broome High School, I dreamt of a faster paced lifestyle. My weekly routine of swimming at Cable Beach after school each day and weekend getaways up the Dampier Peninsular became monotonous and I dreamt of losing myself in the buzz of the big city. I made the escape as soon as I graduated and, for the next decade, I bounced around various countries discovering the sights, smells and cultures of the great cities of the world, before eventually settling in Sydney.

A decade later I found myself dreaming of returning to a simpler existence. My eyes would alternate between posters of magnificent gorges and pristine wilderness areas on my office walls, to the traffic, crowds and concrete outside the window. I yearned for an escape.

I hung up my hat as Office Manager and waved goodbye to regimented corporate life, planning a journey from Sydney to the Kimberley. I am personally a fan of ‘slow travel’ - travelling not to 'tick places off a list', but rather to make the journey itself the travelling experience. Explore at my own pace and make meaningful connections with people and landscape along the way. I concluded that the best method to achieve this was to carry my home with me, in the form of a caravan.

After traversing Western Australia from South to North, my old caravan rolled into Broome on a warm Dry Season afternoon and I welcomed the familiar smell of frangipanis and the sea. Arriving via caravan was a strange sensation. In my younger years we would grumble at the seasonal traffic jams caused by an annual migration of ‘Grey Nomads’ through rural Australia. I now understand why a caravan is the vehicle of choice for those who have no time budget!