People have raved to me about ‘The Kimberley’. All I was able to assess was that it’s an unusual rocky coastal formation with a few waterfalls and a few fjords to sail in and out of. Big deal! Been there, done that, in so many places in the world, and what can be so wonderful about Australia’s Kimberley Coast?

A day out from Darwin, with its excessive heat and unexpected sophistication, we turned south-west into the Indian Ocean, in readiness to explore this so-called amazing coastline. Beautiful turquoise water eventually gave way to land looming ahead. The ship crept slowly in between uninhabited islands and rocky outcrops, closer and closer to the coastline. It was only then we saw the magnitude of this spectacular coast. Red rock cliffs rose steeply on either side of the ship, as very very slowly, we went into the mouth of an unnamed ‘fjord’. This was the closest a large cruise liner had ever been into this craggy coast. Hues of reds, orange, greens, resembled artistic licence in a seascape. But this was real. It was breathtaking. For what seemed like hours, we meandered in and out of the coast, around a multitude of islands, until dusk descended, leaving us in awe of this largely unexplored part of Australia and the pure unspoilt natural beauty that everyone quite rightly raves about. I feel privileged to have witnessed it in all it’s glory.

We woke the following morning feeling the worse for wear. I had a cough and blamed it on the heat in Darwin, and doing too much. I was still tired, so was Peter, and we began to sleep a lot. After all, we had a few days before we arrived at our next destination – Broome – so decided to take it easy. That turned out to be the understatement. Fed up with this tickly cough, I asked Peter to go to the medical centre and see if they had any remedies. A short while later, a medical team descended upon us in the cabin, to take a PCR test. Peter had no Covid symptoms, and all I had was an annoying cough. An hour or so later we got a call from the centre telling us that we had both tested positive, and we were to be isolated for five whole days in our cabin, and not allowed out until a test returned negative. It was only later that we discovered that many more people on the ship were also in quarantine.

We knew then that our planned excursion in Broome, to a pearl farm, to see how it’s all done, would have to be missed. I was really looking forward to that, but all we could do was to watch from our balcony as other lucky fellow-passengers disembarked and were whisked away in coaches for the day. We were both extremely tired – was that one of the symptoms? We’d forgotten from early reports, and having dodged that particular bullet for three years, and with four vaccinations and a flu jab, we wouldn’t have thought it possible. Yet here we were, stuck with a table outside out door on which to place our ordered food and drink, no housekeeping service, everyone ordered to wear a mask at all times onboard, and no other company but each other for as long as it took to be clear enough to be free. Staff were not allowed into our ‘infected’ cabin until they came to deep clean it after we were given the all clear with a negative test.

This lockdown did nothing for our psyche, our bodily fitness or our general wellness. We had games brought to our room, watched lots of films, kept up to date with BBC World news and Australian ABC TV news, and kept on sleeping. The food became monotonous, and very often was not hot, but we realised after talking briefly with our cabin wallah that there were now over a hundred cases on board, and staff were being run off their feet trying to cope. Then the inevitable.

Word had got out about the ‘Ship of Doom’. TV and newspaper reporters were gathering on the quayside in Broome, and the story whizzed around the world! ‘Oh, didn’t realise you were on THAT ship…’ came retorts from friends. It appears we were famous for all the wrong reasons. After Broome, the Captain reported that the weather was not looking good for a planned visit to Kuri Bay and Geraldton, and those ports were cancelled which meant we were heading straight for Fremantle, hoping against hope that we’d be able to go ashore, because this was to be the first time for seven years that we were to rendezvous with long-lost friends. They were expecting us, and we were looking forward to meeting up and spending the day with them. The morning came, we had our test, and hooray, it was negative. We rang our friends, but the word had got out about the ship, and we were reluctant to visit just in case. Even more so after talking to them. It turned out that one of them had long Covid, and we wouldn’t have dreamed of going to see him in person. He was already suffering, and further infection could be devastating. We were all bitterly disappointed, but realised we’d done the right thing, and were still happy to talk at length on Facetime, promising another visit next year when we’re all over this dreadful pandemic.

Fremantle weather was cold and windy, and we were told it was to get much worse, so much so that a decision was made by the captain to sit in Fremantle harbour for an extra day, next stop Busselton for the Margaret River wine region, and he scratched Albany from the itinerary. A once-in-a-blue-moon weather ‘bomb’ was about to tear through the Southern Ocean where we were heading, and so by delaying our journey by a day, it was hoped we’d go in behind the storm and miss the worst of it.

Yes – and no. Our trip around three wineries for tastings and testings was interesting. Fortunately, we’d been there before a couple of times, but for others on our tour, who knew little about the area, it must have been disappointing. It appeared that there had been a lack of communication that we were to be there a day later than planned, and our tour guide for the bus didn’t turn up, so no-one knew where they were going. It was a mystery trip to three different wineries – the first one was expecting us yesterday, the second had not been researched, it seemed, and the third one, with such potential, had to be rushed through in order to get us back to the jetty for our tender to the ship.

Busselton jetty – one of the longest in the world, was heaving with ship’s passengers waiting for tenders. The wind had picked up to what to me seemed like gale-force, and the rain lashed. I had never been so cold before, even though we were prepared for the weather wearing wind- and rain-proof jackets. The bay was choppy, but our intrepid lot weathered the storm and the transfer from one boat to the other mid-ocean quite well, simply wanting to get out of this cold lashing rain. Joy oh joy when we arrived on deck into the warmth. Afternoon tea was called for. It was then we learned more about the imminent journey. Albany had already been cancelled but we were to weather a much bigger storm as we rounded Cape Leeuwin and into the notoriously dangerous waters of the Southern Ocean to cross the Great Australian Bight. Ship of Doom, indeed!

Halloween aboard…

Peter in the Submarine at Fremantle

Submarine exhibit…

Leaving Fremantle

Mmmm…hot cappuccino!