
Go Wild in the Country
The East Kimberley’s remote Bullo River Station—a 400,000-acre working cattle ranch—is a red-tinged brew of rustic charm and luxury flourishes. Only intrepid souls need apply.
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THE GORGE IS a narrow sliver of lost time, tucked away in the ancient landscape of Australia’s remote East Kimberley ranges. My personal Uber today is a gnat-like Robinson R44 helicopter flown by guide Ethan, who collects me from a hilltop picnic overlooking the wetlands of Bullo River Station and zooms me across vast red plains to the rocky ravine, where he expertly lands on a pocket of hillocky grass.
Apart from the Indigenous Miriuwung-Gajerrong people, few individuals have been here, Ethan tells me. Access is only possible by chopper, and from the air the gorge is only one fissure in thousands that scar a region twice as big as the state of Victoria.
Following Ethan on foot along a narrow path through the chasm, it becomes obvious this is more than an interesting pit stop on a scenic flight. The jagged, 400-million-year-old red sandstone walls of the gorge are a vibrant gallery of rock art, from simple chalky prints of hands to fantastical ochre Dreamtime creatures, including sea animals like anemones and a long, snail-like snake. It’s an extraordinary privilege to be here and, what’s more, the traditional owners have given us permission to photograph the art, which is rarely granted.
We lift off again, and Ethan buzzes me to the top of Champagne Falls, a wedding cake-like, vertiginous tier of rock pools, where we land on a white sand beach. I swim in the warm waters before I’m once again in the helicopter, zipping back to the cattle station, a 10-minute flight away. Below, pale roads slice through the terrain. The size of major highways, some of these are “lanes” for cattle mustering. The winding, 600-km-long Bullo River begins and ends on the property—an indication of the station’s size.
The helicopter lands on the airstrip running along the fence of the homestead, a verandah-style building that faces a verdant lawn dotted with bulbous boab trees, old palms and cerise-pink frangipani. Although there are farm hands and hospitality workers living on the 400,000-acre site, I’ve arrived at a moment, just before the wet season, when I’m the only guest. That’s because Bullo River Station, a member of Luxury Lodges of Australia, limits guests to three groups at a time, sharing access to the two on-property helicopters and three guides. A “group” might be a family, or it might consist of only one person. That’s me.
I don’t really have the station to myself, as it turns out. I share it with the flocks of white corellas that shriek unmusically from the branches of trees around the pool and the dozens of wallabies that appear at dusk and dawn to nibble the lawn. Then there are the hand-reared poddy calves at the homestead and the well-fed cattle that engage me curiously whenever I visit their paddocks.
Oh, and there are crocodiles. Not on the station itself but lurking in its distant waters. During a gentle glide down the tranquil Bullo River on an expedition with guide Ben, past mangrove and pandanus groves, with dragonflies buzzing all around us and falcons nesting in the gorges, it’s easy to forget what lurks beneath, specifically a 3-m-long croc known as George. “Never put your hand in the water,” Ben warns. Mine are firmly clasped in my lap for the trip.
Bullo is a working cattle farm, and my inner cowgirl is triggered by all the saddles and bleached cow skulls. If there is ever an opportunity to learn about ranch life, this is it. The station managers, married couple Catherine and Joe Atkins, are happy to take guests on tours through the property. At certain times in the dry season, visitors can also attend the yards and watch the rowdy muster.
I go with Catherine on a morning-long drive through the paddocks. This involves a lot of stopping to open and close multiple gates. (There are six between the highway and the homestead.) Far from being the dusty gulch I imagined, the land is laced with waterholes, reclaimed grasslands and billabongs teeming with birdlife, including graceful brolgas doing their one-legged dances. The cattle roam freely, in small herds, drinking from solar-run bores.

On Saturday night, the “ringers”, or farm hands, take pity on my solo status and invite me to the regular weekly barbecue in the staff quarters, where I’m embraced like a member of the family, even though my experience with cattle and musters is virtually zero. The farm hands stay on through the wet season, when the property is cut off from civilisation for four months. Made up of many different nationalities, it is a warm and close-knit group.
Over decades, this outback realm had been poorly managed. Famously, it is the subject of a series of best-selling memoirs by pastoralist Sara Henderson, who moved to the station in 1963 with her husband Charles. When Charles died in 1986, leaving Sara heavily indebted, she struggled to raise three daughters on the failing station. One of her daughters took over in 2001, but the pastoral lease changed hands a couple of times after that.
Enter BRW Rich Listers Julian and Alexandra Burt, a prominent Western Australian couple who are owners of the Voyager Estate winery in Margaret River, and who bought Bullo in 2017. Keen environmentalists, the Burts entered a partnership with the Australian Wildlife Conservancy (AWC) to assist with managing Bullo River’s natural resources and put in place innovative sustainable management practices. They reduced the head of cattle—which was once 22,000—to around 2,000, and introduced a premium breed, a Brahman-Wagyu cross. (There is no live export from here.)
The team at Bullo is reshaping ideas about how a cattle station can operate in a low-impact way and inspiring conversations with other ranches in the region. Catherine’s husband Joe is cultivating organic gardens that supply the station’s kitchen. There’s a gleaming, state-of-the-art solar energy system that has been recently installed and supplies 80 percent of the property’s electricity. The station shuns single-use plastic and harvests its precious rainwater, as there’s no precipitation for seven or eight months.
The traveller-focused part of the station is closing temporarily for refurbishments at the end of October until May 2027—catch it while you can—but high-end tourism is firmly part of the sustainability plan. Sibella Court, a globetrotter known for her eclectic boho style, has created interiors that perfectly blend cowboy style with the traditional Australian outback house. It’s pleasingly unpretentious, and the staff clothesline with flapping linens is as much part of the scenery as the meticulously landscaped rainwater swimming pool.
The 12 rooms are arranged on the ground floor of one wing, motel-style, each with a shaded verandah and front doors off a long communal area that contains a full kitchen, well-stocked Smeg fridge (Voyager Estate wines are plentiful) and rustic details such as leather chairs, cowhide rugs and an antique cabinet of curiosities found on the property—bones, feathers, rocks and Indigenous artefacts. Guests are welcome to add their own discoveries.

I’m in room number one, facing the pool. The king rooms feature simple iron beds with firm mattresses, slate floors, timber-lined walls and witty details such as bolts serving as pegs for hanging clothes. The retro-style bathroom is stocked with ethical and sustainable botanicals handmade by locals. It’s the kind of space that demands a pair of R.M. Williams boots under the bed.
The main homestead building is a vast shed containing various indoor and outdoor areas for relaxation, dining and play. Court has scavenged the surroundings for foundational materials like leather, salvaged wood, blackened steel, stone and cane, and filled the residence with saddlery, leatherwork and contemporary art. Chunks of red sandstone form tiles that cover the floors and walls, and tables are rough-hewn from beautiful pieces of timber, including a long communal dining table on the terrace.
Outdoors, there are various places to lounge, all facing the lawn, which is often decorated with fingers of fog in the mornings. There’s a trellised area with daybeds and a firepit. For children or playful adults, there are leather swings made from saddles. Sundowners are a real highlight here—the long sunsets are psychedelic.
Chef David Rayner, formerly of Thomas Corner Eatery in Noosa, presides over the open kitchen. There’s a sense that he’s having a good time adapting the station’s homegrown produce for guests—the juiciest pawpaws and salads from the organic veggie patch, the tastiest Wagyu beef from the herd, and fresh Bullo eggs (chickens dash about underfoot). It’s truly paddock to plate.
Rayner makes everything from scratch, including sourdough breads and fruit loaves, and the best granola I’ve ever eaten. (He gifts me a pack of it to take on my travels home.) Breakfast at the long table is a daily highlight, but meals can be taken anywhere. There’s always an excuse for a picnic.
Bullo is all about simple country pleasures—swimming in waterholes, picnicking by billabongs, fishing and stargazing. Like the rock art, it’s a time capsule of something rarely experienced, but worth preserving.
Bullo River Station is 200 km east of Kununurra, WA. It can be reached by road (three-hours’ drive) or air transfer. Meals, drinks and signature activities are included, plus a complementary short helicopter ride for each guest.
Rooms $1,450 per person per night, minimum three-nights’ stay; bulloriver.com.au
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