As the floodwaters surged through his house, Robert Reid loaded his dog Nellie onto a small boat and pushed it outside.
As he moved the one-eyed blue heeler through the flooded front yard, he had a terrifying sensation.
"I felt something brush across my foot and I thought, 'Jeez, was that a crocodile?'" he told 7.30.
"I like to think it was a barramundi, but who knows."
Soon, Robert's fridge was also bobbing along in the fast-moving floodwaters.
As he ducked inside a bedroom to try to salvage some more photographs and paperwork, another unexpected hazard emerged.
"I didn't realise it, but a tin of paint was floating along but it started to leak," he said.
"I didn't know what was going on, but the water started stinging my skin, so I climbed out as quickly as possible."
It's been a fortnight since the record-breaking floods inundated hundreds of homes through the Fitzroy River valley in Western Australia's remote north.
For residents like Robert, the initial shock has worn off, and the reality of the recovery work ahead is sinking in.
He's now stripping everything from the house to let it dry in the baking wet-season heat, as the next round of build-up clouds loom ominously on the horizon.
Robert's partner Pennie Gross is visiting the property for the first time since the waters receded.
She tears up at the sight of the damp, stained house, and the thought of what it used to be.
"It's such a peaceful little town, but this has affected everyone," Pennie said.
"We've got this devastation in the back of our mind about what's happened, and what's going to have to happen now — it's really sad.
"But it's a resilient mob out here, and we'll get it fixed up and have it bigger and better than it was so we can enjoy it again."
Difficult task of rebuilding begins
Robert and Pennie are among the lucky ones.
So far, 390 flood-damaged homes have been inspected across the region. Thirty-eight have been deemed a write-off and will need to be rebuilt.
Another 39 business properties have also been destroyed.
They are big numbers in the small towns of the central Kimberley, which teeter precariously on the brink of viability at the best of times.
Everything about the rebuild will be difficult due to the remote nature of the region.
There are chronic staff shortages, inflated freight costs, and cultural complexities involved with rebuilds on landscapes spanning at least half a dozen different Aboriginal language groups.
Still, community leaders believe Kimberley families will not just survive, but thrive.
The waiting game is continuing for about 150 evacuees staying in emergency motel accommodation 250 kilometres away from home in the port town of Derby.
Trevor Menmuir Snr has been helping to look after the families, some of whom are elders from remote bush communities.
"I see these old people — they don't say much, but you can see deep down they're appreciative of what's being done for them," he told 7.30.
"They're not used to being in town, so it's a huge thing for them, being evacuated in a plane or helicopter. They're not familiar with the day-to-day stuff here.
"But they're in good hands and they're cared for. That's the most important thing."
'Special' chance to spend time with elders
Each day, Trevor takes the evacuees for outings to Centrelink and the local op shop, where impromptu fashion shows help pass the time.
Everyone's talking in local languages, and there's laughter and hugs.
Nunga Women's Group chief executive Rowena Mouda said some of the evacuees arrived with just the clothes they were wearing.
"A lot of them were quiet to begin with, but once we got chatting they were able to open up about how they were feeling," she said.
"Some of the stories have been heartfelt.
"It's been special to spend time with the elders, who are from far away. We might never see them again, so it's been very special."
'I don't know when we'll go back'
While the evacuees are glad to be fed and clothed, homesickness and uncertainty are taking a toll.
In the evenings, they sit outside their motel rooms, along the edge of the pub car park, to catch the coastal breeze.
Walmajarri man Leo Thirkall surveys the scene. He's from a community just east of Fitzroy Crossing, and has no idea when he'll go home.
"It's OK here, but we're not real comfortable being here," Leo said.
"I'm a bit worried about home and about my partner because she's not here.
"I don't know when we'll go back. Maybe a couple of months or maybe next year.
"It's real sad, no good."
Kimberley residents are accustomed to change and relocation.
For decades, local Aboriginal people were shuffled between missions, cattle stations and outstations during fast-changing waves of government policy.
There's a sense of the 2023 floods being just the latest challenge to be overcome.
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