It was late at night when Tyrone Walter Hand became really worried.
"I was watching the water come up … just climbing and climbing, and we watched it all night," he said.
"Our house is up on stilts, but that didn't matter.
"It was scary ... people were afraid to lose their lives.
"To be honest, I thought I was gonna drown."
The Fitzroy Crossing resident was too scared to sleep, in case the water rose and swamped the room where his four-year-old son slept.
Thankfully, relatives were able to reach the family by boat, and whisk them away to where helicopters were plucking people to safety.
"It feels so good to walk on dry land again," he reflects.
"I'm just glad that we are safe and I'm still alive."
Weird routine
Such survival stories are common among the 150 evacuees still languishing in motel rooms in the port town of Derby.
Evacuees are living alongside Department of Communities emergency response staff — known as "Purple Shirts" — within the motel complexes.
The initial adrenaline rush of the rescue has worn off, and a makeshift routine has developed for the displaced families.
Every morning and afternoon the Nunga Women's group collects people for visits to the shops, while the visiting children are invited to attend evening youth activities.
But they are challenging circumstances. Among the evacuees is an elderly woman in a wheelchair and a premature-born baby; many left home at short-notice and are relying on locally donated op-shop clothes.
Some are from "dry" communities, and police have been called to an increasing number of drunken street fights since emergency alcohol restrictions lifted.
Surprise announcement
On Tuesday morning, staff from the Department of Communities arrived at one motel with a surprise announcement — the first of the evacuees were to be transported home.
They had been relocated as a precaution while the massive floodwaters gushed west towards the coast.
But thankfully the waters only lapped the outskirts of the community, and no homes were damaged.
While the relieved residents were delivered by bus back to their homes, the remaining 150 or so evacuees watched on enviously.
They still don't know if their homes will be habitable, and — even if they are — what level of damage they'll be returning to.
'I was frightened'
Elsie Nulgit is among those staying at the motel.
The 19-year-old was flown to Derby from her home at Ngullagunda, on the Gibb River Road, a week ago.
"For two weeks we couldn't get out because the river was up so high, and we were running out of food and supplies.
"I've got a one-year-old [baby] who was born premature, and I was frightened being out there because he's got asthma.
"I was so glad to get lifted into town, to know everything was going to be OK."
The network of family connections is tight-knit across the Kimberley, and Elsie's been able to catch up with friends and relatives she doesn't see often.
She doesn't know when it will be safe to return home.
"It's OK here — we've got good accommodation, and lots of food," she says.
"We just gotta wait and see."
