An old country, and it looks it. The Kimberley is sandstone laid down before anything walked on land, cut into gorges, drowned twice a day by some of the largest tides on earth, and set on fire every afternoon of the build-up by storms that arrive from nowhere.
Half the year it is unreachable. The other half it is dust, boabs, red road and water that turns impossible colours where the light gets down into the gorges. Nothing about it is convenient, which is most of why it looks the way it does.
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