Racing to King George Falls
Kimberley, Australia Expedition Day 11 of 14
Written by Scott David Martin | May 9, 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 crown jewel of the Kimberley, King George Falls
©SEABOURN | 📷 S. Martin
Eleven days in.
Weathered.
Exhausted.
Focused.
And somehow,
the best was still ahead.
King George Falls.
The moment we’d been building toward.
The crown jewel of the Kimberley.
King George River, Kimberley, Australia -13° 57' 26.39" S 127° 19' 25.80" E
I still remember when the Kimberley invite hit my inbox.
At the time,
I couldn’t have pointed to the Kimberley on a map.
But one Google search later…
Towering red cliffs.
Twin waterfalls. Sacred country.
King George River looks like an ancient portal.
But before the river..
There was the sea.
The Indian Ocean.
Vast. Unpredictable. Unforgiving.
On a larger expedition ship like the Seabourn Pursuit,
this journey feels like gliding on glass.
But aboard the smaller Akiko?
We were a ragdoll in a washing machine.
Secure Everything Onboard
The Captain’s previous warning echoed in my head:
“It’s going to get rocky tonight.”
At 3:00 AM,
The ocean comes alive.
Not in a gentle sway,
But in a violent, gut-punching roar.
It feels like thunder.
Gear shifting. Doors slamming.
I scramble out of bed, bracing myself.
I head directly to the bridge.
But before I got there,
I meet the captain mid-ship.
He doesn’t flinch.
“Secure everything onboard,” he says calmly.
“It’s going to get worse.”
He isn’t wrong.
Our tender, the Nayaid,
bucking wildly in tow like a rodeo bull.
Shortly, we had two camps onboard.
Camp One (the majority):
pale-green, dazed.
Camp Two (a rare breed):
snoozing through it all like it was a lullaby.
The first eight faces I pass?
Wiped out.
Sea sick.
Shaky.
BUT a few hours later,
the WABU veterans begin to stir.
I spott Andrew, our writer.
“You alright?”
He blinks, shrugs.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Then came Marc.
Chris.
Dave.
The old sea dogs.
Tossed like a bathtub toy in an Indian Ocean tantrum?
Not a care in the world.
The rest of the squad?
Gripping railings (or worse).
BUT then…
A turn towards the river.
The water, glass.
Cliffs rising like cathedrals.
Red sandstone wraps us in silence.
We’d entered the King George River.
The chaos of the ocean behind us.
Ahead? Stillness.
Grandeur.
We eat breakfast in awe.
At least, those of us who could stomach it.
Our goals are simple:
Replenish health.
Shoot boat-to-boat action on the way to falls.
Get to the base of the falls to capture the moment.
That first task?
Boat-to-boat.
I live for it.
Fast. Fluid. Free.
Out there, I’m fully awake.
The wind.
The water.
The collaboration.
That’s where WABU thrives.
Ashagania
A native Alaskan once told me,
there’s a word for that feeling.
Ashagania:
A spiritual tether to the land, the water, the sky.
That’s what the Kimberley felt like.
A deep, ancestral pull.
We press on.
Closer and closer to the falls.
The first time we see her.
Jaws drop.
Six months earlier, we’d asked the key question:
When’s the best time to film the Kimberley?
The answer:
It depends.
Depends on what you’re chasing.
If you want the waterfalls at their fiercest…
May is the moment.
The campaign was called
This is Your Moment.
We spent countless hours debating what that moment should be.
Which locations?
Which emotions?
But King George Falls always held the top spot.
After a expedition under Kimberley’s relentless heat,
nothing compares to the rush of a natural shower.
With Seabourn, you don’t just see the falls,
you feel them.
For those bold enough,
you can enter the cascade itself.
Six months earlier, we drew a line in the sand:
That’s the shot.
That’s the moment.
Inching closer, the cool spray hit our faces,
a jolt to the system after days in 100+ degree heat.
But I held us back.
Keep the talent dry, I remind myself.
Once they’re wet, there’s no going back.
So we wait.
The anticipation climbed.
You could read it on every face:
Let’s get in the falls already.
My 10-year-old self wanted in as badly as they did.
Curiosity screams: Get under that water. Now.
But there is one rule with water.
Once talent is soaked, full reset.
If we still needed a dry shot (in this light), it was game over.
We had to be sure.
Get what we need first.
But the light is shifting fast.
And for the first time in the Kimberley,
we’re sharing the space.
That meant being mindful of other expeditions.
This was the one spot where we truly felt the presence of others,
a reminder that we weren’t alone out here.
“Let’s hit the falls,” I whisper to Producer Marc.
“All radios, all radios..
Zodiac and Nyaid, proceed straight to the falls.”
This moment wasn’t just for the film.
Every single team member would experience it.
The radio comms lit up.
Woooohooo!
Turn the epic meters up.
The Falls
The zodiac approaches.
Mist fills the air.
Sound swallows us whole.
It was deafening.
Majestic.
Cleansing.
We weren’t just refreshed.
We felt reborn.
Everyone screaming like kids.
This wasn’t just content.
This was connection.
A rare reminder that we’re made of water too.
Sunset
As the sun dipped low,
golden light hit the canyons.
Time for lifestyle hero shots.
Manjit. Britt.
Still and glowing,
faces lit by the landscape.
Only slivers of canyon were kissed by light.
and we wanted every last second of it.
©SEABOURN | 📷 S. Martin
Expedition Leader Robin steps up.
He’s a world-class teammate.
A water buffalo, to the core.
Robin handles the Zodiac like a maestro at sea.
Precise.
Fluid.
Spinning on a dime.
Back.
Forth.
Chasing golden beams as they appear,
and vanish.
Robin is the type of teammate you don’t just want, you need.
©SEABOURN | 📷 S. Martin
The last light.
The last sunset, for talent.
Final hero frames for Manjit & Britt before the curtain drops.
Back to Akiko.
Let’s move into drone prep.
If I’d known this would be the most dangerous shot of the expedition,
I would’ve skipped it.
But no one could’ve predicted what came next.
©SEABOURN | 📷 S. Martin
©SEABOURN | 📷 S. Martin
During drone ops, radios go quiet,
only drone communications allowed.
Chris is on the controls.
Multiple team members spotting.
“Drone is off the deck,” Producer Marc calls out.
The live feed lights up the monitor.
I’m thrilled.
A few passes in, I nod. Great scout.
“Let’s land,” I say to Chris.
She touches down.
But the blades keep spinning.
“We have a problem,” Marc says instantly over all radios.
This isn’t a toy.
It is a heavy-duty drone.
And now, out of control.
The team runs through the emergency protocol, fast.
“Pull the battery,”
comes the final call.
Crisis averted.
Everyone safe.
With calm precision, Chris shows why experience matters.
Thousands of hours over six continents.
Guiding us in that critical moment.
Props, Chris.
We sit down for dinner.
Then came the bugs.
Thousands.
Swarming.
We retreat inside.
Our first dinner inside on the expedition.
Beers come out.
Laughter follows.
We had made it.
And we’d made something beautiful.
The Dailies
Each night as dinner prepared,
I dive into the dailies.
Scrolling through raw photos,
Scrubbing through raw footage.
But tonight feels different.
I can almost see the entire commercial.
The 360 brand campaign?
She’s taking shape, too.
Stronger Together
Tonight.
A small celebration.
My first night having beers with the team.
Tomorrow:
Our final day on the water.
Our final call time: 4:45 AM.
The expedition is nearly over.
But this crew?
They’ve become something stronger.
Up next on The Dash (—):
The final push.
Our last day on the water.
The sequence we’ve been building for.
Our biggest drone shot.
But just as we line it up, we hear:
"‘Negative on drone ops. Helo traffic overhead.”