It's finch country too, and croc country, the kind of Australian outback wilderness you might see in movies and tourism campaigns.
I live in the Kimberley, situated at the far northern corner of Western Australia. One half meets a stretch of placid, tropical coastline, the other meets the Northern Territory border in the unpopulated heart of the country.
Despite having been born and raised in the country, I have never seen a place as stereotypically Australian as the East Kimberley.
The land is long and the vast horizons broken only by the loosely drawn outlines of rugged cliffs.
Carved by intense heat and heavy rainfall over millions of years, the flat-top ranges look like the wrinkled hands of elderly men - tufted with vegetation and resting palm-down on the earth.
Amid the red earth and soaring temperatures there are lush pockets of green and huge bodies of water fed by wet season rains.
A country of contrast, it's as if a random selection of climates were sprinkled from the heavens like a packet of mixed seeds.
Even the huge, glassy river has an alter ego, showing its true aggression in rapids caused by man-made interruptions like the dam wall.
Despite my background in music and entertainment writing, I've developed a growing interest in environmental and nature writing since relocating from Perth last year.
Having reluctantly moved to the heart of the outback only to find it both spectacular and endearing, Get Country is just what I've done.
