Kimberley, Australia Expedition Day 10 of 14
Written by Scott David Martin | May 8, 2023

The Dash [ - ] goes behind the scenes of a WABU filmmaking expedition in the remote Northwest region of Australia, The Kimberley. In this 14-part series, we’ll share the highs and lows, from marathon shoots aboard luxurious yachts to heart-stopping encounters with nature's fiercest creatures.

“The greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it.”
– Michelangelo

Jar Island isn’t just a location.
It was a test of our ambition.

To capture the full guest experience, we needed a ballet of moving parts:

Talent
Crew
Gear
Multiple helicopters
Yachts
Zodiacs…

All choreographed without real-time communication.

**Jar Island, Kimberley, Australia 14.1552° S, 126.2387° E**

Overly ambitious?
That’s just confirmation we were aiming big enough.

Today, Jar Island is a reality.
A high-risk swing.

Six months ago.
I couldn’t find Jar Island on a map.

And yet,
this tiny island.
And it’s people…

Captures our hearts.

Butterflies

Approaching Jar Island, butterflies settle in.

This is sacred ground,
and it demanded our respect.

The plan is clear…

Land on the beach.
Wait for the Wunambal Gaambera Traditional Owners to arrive by heli.
Capture the Junba dance.

Then explore the rock art.
Simple enough on paper.

But the Kimberley doesn’t follow scripts.

We pull in earlier than expected.

The disembark is smooth, mostly.
Everyone’s safe.
Except the wardrobe.

Full wardrobe takes a dive into the water.
Soaked.

No time to panic.
Just time to dry.
And luckily, this is the Kimberley.
100+ degrees and rising.

HMU Manny doesn’t flinch.
He handles adversity the WABU way:
with optimism.

He let’s the wardrobe fly.
Nature’s dryer on full blast.

Wardrobe saved.
The Kimberley Way.

So we wait.
And wait.

But we notice something.

Like a curtain being drawn…
At the island's edge, the tide recedes.

'“Wow, what is that,” exclaims Chris, our drone pilot.

The Kimberley is revealing secrets.
Uncovering tunnels etched into the shoreline.

What are these?
Windows into another world?

How would this place have looked fifty or fifty thousand years ago?
Questions outnumber the answers.

Speaking of questions…
Where are the helis?

With each passing minute, my nerves…
Tighter.

A significant investment is riding on this moment.
And if it didn’t land?

There’d be only place to point the finger: me. WABU.
But the truth is, I love that kind of pressure.

I want the bat in the bottom on the ninth.
Bases loaded.
Game on the line.

That doesn’t mean nerves disappear.
They just mean it matters.

Did we miss a detail?

I keep looking at Marc, WABU’s producer.
His face reads confidence.

Mine did not.

Marc believes in the plans he made.
We all need a teammate like Marc.
He’s got your back.
Always.

“Did you hear, that,” someone says.
“Shhh!”

The hum of rotors cut through the silence.
The sound of helis.
Goosebumps.

“All radios, all radios!”
“Helis inbound!” Marc declares.

The team erupts.

Be a World Class Teammate

I look around at the Water Buffaloes - our team.
Smiles as they pick up the gear.
WABU ignition: on.

My humanity creeps in, again.
Will our teams connect?
Will Wunambal Gaambera Traditional Owners trust us?

We had only a couple hours.
The Kimberley heat is brutal, 100+ degrees.
High pressure.

So I make myself a quite promise:
Lead by example.
Show (don’t tell) what kind of teammate I am.

If I make mistakes (and I will).
Own it. Stay kind. Stay present.
Be a world-class teammate.

Be WABU.

As the helicopters land and our collaborators step onto the sand,
one detail stops me:

A Chicago Bulls jersey?
Michael Jordan.
No. 23.

In an instant, I was back in Hudson, Illinois.
My hometown, population 850,
cheering MJ from a tiny living room thousands of miles away.

That jersey shattered the imagined distance between us.
We weren’t so different.

He’s a storyteller.
I’m a storyteller.
We’re all human.

The nerves vanish.

And we were ready.

Shared Story

You can’t tell the story of the Kimberley without its people.

Including the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Land Owners isn’t optional.
It’s essential.

They’re the foundation.
And that begins with a Welcome to Country.

The Welcome to Country ceremony envelopes us in smoke and spirit.
It is more than permission.
It is a blessing.

This isn’t just something we filmed.
Every crew member takes part of it.

The ceremony comes first.
Everything else waits.

Respect.

Junba

But what happens next shakes me to my core.
The Junba isn’t performance.
It’s connection.

A heartbeat passed through generations.

As their feet pound the earth, our cameras roll.
Goosebumps, again.

The Junba is mesmerizing.
I could have filmed Junba for hours.

But the heat is relentless.

And we still had a hike ahead of us.
The rock art is waiting.

After the Junba, we capture portraits,
a rare chance to slow down and connect.
These images are among the ones I cherish most.

The Kimberley is stunning, no doubt.

But it is the people who made it unforgettable.
For those hours, we weren’t just documenting.
We were invited in.

In creative work, access is everything.
But on this day, we were given something far greater:
Trust.

Standing on Jar Island.
I felt like the luckiest filmmaker & photographer in the world.

From a tiny town in Illinois to this sacred place in the Kimberley.
Spotlighting what we share.

That’s what storytelling does.

It collapses distance.
It makes strangers feel like neighbors.

This is the WABU way.

Find Your Wings 🪽

During WABU missions, we often say:
Find your wings.

But on this island,
guided by an ancient culture,
I truly found mine.

Ram Dass once said:
It’s only when the caterpillarness is done that you become a butterfly.

You cannot rip away the caterpillarness.

The whole trip occurs in an unfolding process which you have no control.

So wherever you are right now…
in the midst of a transformation,
or wondering if you’ve aimed too high
take a breath.

You might be growing wings.

Rock Art

During the Junba,
WABU Producer Marc's voice buzzes in my ear, consistently.

Quietly counting down our remaining time.
We start with 120 minutes.

The rock art. The rock art.
Marc kept nudging me in my ear.

Don’t forget the rock art.

I wasn’t ignoring him.
But we already had solid footage in the can from Freshwater Cove.

By the end of Junba and portraits, we’re down to 30 minutes.
I used every second we planned, and more.

Still, skipping additional coverage now is a gamble.

Send the talent ahead!
The crew can sprint in behind with gear.

But I look around.
Faces said it all.
Drained.

I question myself.
Are we pushing too hard?

The optimism remains high.
So we hike.

When we reach the rock art,
everything goes quiet.

The figures on the wall.
No mouths.

As if they were asking us to be still.
I want to stay an hour.

Then the call comes through:
“All radios, all radios. Final Nyaid tender departs in 20.”
And it is a 10-minute hike back.

“Send everyone now,” I say.
“But keep Andrew with me.”

Andrew, our Writer + UPM + 1AC,
is always the last one in the foxhole.

Ask anyone about Andrew.
That’s just his makeup.

We move fast, firing off shots.
Felt like five seconds later…

“All radios, all radios. Final tender in 10.”

Andrew looks at me, calm but firm.
“We have to go, dude…now”

Our guide smiles, watching the exchange.
He knew we were pushing it.
But he understood the pull of the place.

Leaving Jar Island in the late afternoon sun,
we all feel something special.

We feel more connected.
To the people.
To the land.

To something much bigger than ourselves.

Maybe that’s the lesson.

Gratitude

I never told the team this,
but later that night, standing under the shower, I cried.

Not from exhaustion.
but from something deeper.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

For the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Land Owners who welcomed us.
For the chance to do meaningful work for Seabourn.
For the privilege of being part of this team.

Immense gratitude.

Relief

For the first time in weeks,
I feel some relief.

The pressure eases just enough for me to start seeing it…
The commercial taking shape,
the 360 campaign finally coming to life.

I step out to the back deck.
The nurse sharks are back.

Gliding through the water, calm.
There is a strange peace in their presence, now.

But then it hit me.
King George is next.

The crown jewel of the Kimberley.
We’d saved the pinnacle, for last.

And just like that,
my heart starts pounding all over again.

**Next stop: The Crown Jewel of the Kimberley, King George Falls**
©SEABOURN | 📷 S. Martin

Up Next on The Dash ( — )

It’s 3 AM.
The Indian Ocean is raging.
Massive swells slam the hull.

The captain’s voice cuts through the darkness:
“We need to secure everything on board.”

Jar Island: Stories in Ochre & Stone 🔥

Racing to King George Falls

Nature’s Nursery & Mitchell Falls 🚁