Join the Grumpy Old Men as they board the 40-foot “Top Cat” for a voyage of discovery into the lower Buccaneer Archipelago. Amazing sights, big fish and adventure feature as their indigenous guide Rocky Prouse gives them a glimpse of his country.
Somewhere around 1:30 am, the normally stable boat began rocking. Rob and I, snuggled in our swags on the flying bridge, were startled awake and had to grab the rail as our beds lurched. As we struggled out of our peaceful slumbers we heard the normally smooth waters pushing small waves into the side of the boat.
Slowly we came to realise that something was awfully amiss. Rocky our skipper was moving about the boat shining the spotlight. Next thing I knew, the engines roared into life and as I watched the light shine on the port side, I noticed dry sand. We were aground! The breeze had picked up and the turning tide had dragged the anchor. We were in strife! Twenty metres ahead were rocks and twenty metres astern more rocks. We were broadside to the wind and tide with one hull scraping the bottom. Dale, the first mate, was at the anchor rope and Rocky was shouting instructions. You could tell by the tone of his voice that this was a serious situation.
When we relived that black dark morning later, we were in awe of Rocky’s skill and control in the heat of the moment. With one hull scraping the bottom he gently backed and filled the jet boat several times in the tight piece of safe water that he had. In doing so he had to contend with a fast running tide and a fresh breeze, both of which wanted to oppose his efforts and turn us broadside. Gil had jumped out of his swag along with Rob. They both scrambled to the bow to help poor Dale struggling to pull the anchor. Rocky’s shouts had the boys hopping!
By a bit after 2am we had found deeper water and reset the anchor. Time to relax and grab a few hours’ sleep. Not likely! The wind and tide were pushing waves into the boat and we were rocking about. Not bad for those on the deck, but the pitching was magnified for us poor bunnies on the bridge! Rocking from side to side, Rob and I clung with one hand to the rail to stop rolling over the side. Sleep was becoming a distinct impossibility. In those next hours I alternated between clinging to the rail and taking sightings on the tree on the nearby cliff to make sure we hadn’t dragged anchor again.
By 5am Rocky, who hadn’t slept again, fired the engines and motored out into deeper water with the slowly growing pre-dawn light. No more sleep today!
Now – back to the tale of our Archipelago adventure…
We arrived in Derby hot and dusty after twelve fantastic days on the Gibb River Road. That afternoon Rob took the stitches out of Gary’s hand, with no complications. In the evening we stocked up on supplies of beer for the Archipelago adventure. Dinner was at The Point restaurant out at the wharf. After two weeks in the bush we deserved to spoil ourselves.
Next morning we watched a game of Mud Football – with much joviality. Two teams of eight players in a mud dam about knee deep in water playing a combination of footy and rugby.
We met Rocky at the wharf at 11am that morning. By midday we had ferried out our swags, fishing gear and a few slabs of beer and sat on the shady deck waiting for the top of the tide. The huge tides in King Sound run at around 10 knots and so you always had to plan your travel to go with the tide.
Top Cat was a 40-foot dual hull fishing/ pilot boat with two diesel engines pushing twin jets. It had a nice wide, dry deck, which was shaded by the full-length bridge, and shade covers.
Around 12:30pm we set sail for the 80 kilometre northward journey. For the first hour we pushed through brown water resembling choc milk. During the second hour the mud had decreased and the water now resembled weak coffee as we motored onwards in the still heat under blue skies. In the third hour patches of green water began to show through as Gill napped like a lord on the swags stacked on the flying bridge.
In the last hour Gil and I began to spot tuna activity from the bridge as Australia began to recede in the distance. The afternoon sun was warm and balmy and our excitement and anticipation grew as we noticed islands appearing on the starboard bow and ahead in the distance. After about four hours cruising (and a couple of cold beers) we were heading in between a couple of islands and Rocky gave the order to drop a few lures over the back.
Like excited schoolboys we grabbed our rods and with big grins, dropped our lures over the side. I had chosen a shallow to medium diving RMG Scorpion in silver with blue and purple stripes. I had a 40 cm wire trace on 9 kg line spooled on the faithful old Daiwa GS9 eggbeater.
As the sun began to sink lower towards its ocean bed, we chugged through a glassy passage between the islands and then it happened. We were stunned from our daydreams as a double hook-up struck! Both Rob and my lines were hit. As Rocky put the engines into neutral I grabbed my rod and started fighting the feisty tuna I assumed had attacked the lure. Rob was pumping as well. After a few minutes he had triumphed over a nice 7kg tuna. Rocky set the gaff and lifted it over the side to cheers. As the fish hit the deck it threw the lure and in the pandemonium of tail slapping it slipped through the gate on the marlin board and back over the side. Bugger!
My fish was a different customer. I continued to fight for at least another 5 or 10 long minutes. In the last few minutes the fish did ever-decreasing circles around the rear of the boat. We frequently glimpsed him, but weren’t ready to use the gaff for some time. Finally, with aching arms, I brought him to the boat and a nice 7kg tuna was lifted onto the deck amid more cheers. Phew!
We motored into a sheltered cove on glassy waters, set the anchor and sat admiring the scenery in the late afternoon as Rocky and Dale made the decks habitable and began dinner preparations.
What a magic place! Still oily calm waters, dotted with islands in every direction. Deep narrow channels connecting “inland seas” with more islands and spectacular scenery every way you looked.
The worst we had to contend with that evening was the fact that the boat didn’t have a corkscrew and my new “you-beaut” utility knife also seemed to lack one. We glanced around and our skipper, Rocky, was standing there with an electric drill in his hand. Rocky set the bit in the cork and rotated it by hand until the cork was removed and we were enjoying enamel cups of somewhat corky red along with dinner on the deck.
That night four very excited grumpy old men crawled like excited schoolboys into their swags and dreamed of more adventures on the Buccaneer Archipelago.
Next morning in my perch on the bridge I woke at first light. Across the still waters there promised a spectacular sunrise. I snuck down the ladder-way, crept around the slumbering bodies on the deck and hoisted my camera bag back up to the bridge. I sat in awe and silence as a spectacular sunrise brewed over the glassy waters.
Later that morning while one shift ate breakfast on the deck, Rocky took the other two trolling in the dinghy. Numerous bouts with willing tuna were had and every one of us returned to the boat pleasantly exhausted with one or two tuna to our accounts. All fish were successfully released that morning except one that we kept for dinner.
A quiet morning coffee was interrupted when Gil battled a huge Giant Trevally that took a bait he had over the side. What a fish and what a grin on Gilly’s face!
Later we motored through a narrow gap into what the chart labelled as “unsurveyed waters”. Rocky called it “The Inland Sea”, many square kilometres of deep glassy waters interspersed with more islands. Some of the passages between the islands, especially at the opening surged with eddies and small whirlpools as the huge tides poured in and out of the inland sea.
Late that afternoon Rocky found a sheltered anchorage where he had a mooring. We tied up and then took the dinghy to shore to explore. We found a shack complete with shade cloth and an aluminium-hinged flywire door in a quiet cove. Rocky threw the cast net for bait. We took the dinghy back to the boat and as the sun set on another still Kimberley evening we took saltwater showers on Rocky’s marlin-board.
Dinner was tuna filets and Rocky’s sashimi. By this time the tide had receded from our mooring and the good ship was high and dry on both hulls. After a few laughs and lots of Rocky’s stories we retired to our swags for a big sleep.
In the morning Rob and I peered out from our swags at another stunning Archipelago sunrise. The rising sun set the clouds and surrounding island cliffs on fire.
After breakfast, a spot of bottom fishing saw a few nice spangled emperor landed.
We then cruised the inland sea marvelling at the whirlpools and eddies in the passages.
Rocky planned to take us mud crab fishing up an uncharted creek. On the way we trolled a few lures behind the boat. As we got further away from the main ocean I decided that there were no pelagics here and began winding in. Suddenly Gil shouted as his rod went off! Everyone else reeled in and watched in astonishment as Gil had a tough fight with a big fish. You should have seen his face when some minutes later a great 15-kilogram Spaniard thrashed on the deck! He was wrapt and soundly congratulated by all. Wow!
We then motored slowly up the uncharted creek on the incoming tide. After at least a kilometre of winding slowly through the mangroves Rocky dropped a couple of crab nets and then tied the big boat up to a tree. Although we were in at least 6 metres of water, we realised that this would be mostly dry when the tide dropped. Rob and I took the dinghy a few hundred metres further up and tied up to some mangroves in some snaggy-looking barra country. We had a fish for half an hour. I had my little Shimano baitcaster and got some good practice casting Tilsan Barra lures and wobbling them slowly past the snags to no avail. Later we pulled 5 good muddies from the nets and then set sail back downstream as the tide began to recede.
That night we feasted on mud crabs, fried Italian sausage, bacon and chops. A bit lacking in veggies or salads. Likewise, cutlery was absent from this meal. A couple of nice reds washed it all down and then Rocky told some more of his stories.
Rocky had strong feelings about the need to break the cycle of domestic violence within the indigenous community and he explained that children brought up watching this were likely to see it as “normal” behaviour. He later began talking about his roots and travelling some fairly unknown Kimberley country with some Elders. He made my spine tingle at times when he talked about custodians of special places and how his companion said that he did not want to go back to one particular place because there were voices talking to him by the water.
That night the stars were bright from our swags as we drifted into peaceful slumbers.
By the fourth afternoon, we had motored back to Derby ending a fantastic Buccaneer Archipelago adventure with our jovial and loveable guide Rocky Prouse.
Thanks for showing us a great time Rocky and thanks for sharing your country with us.
Author’s Note:
This is one of the infamous Grumpy Old Men On Tour stories.
July 2007
