(Photo courtesy of the Australian Tourist Commission)

THE KIMBERLY, Western Australia -- It's 7 a.m. and pilot Luke O'Doherty dips our five-seater Cherokee in a wide arc to give us a better view of the wilderness below.

Up in the cockpit where I'm seated because of my flying fears, I watch nervously as his hands leave the controls to point out saltwater crocodiles lounging on the river banks, the fiery red rock that surrounds deep gorges and the endless, unspoiled coastline along the Timor Sea.

Slingair's O'Doherty, who cut his teeth flying in Micronesia, looks like he's made to navigate this rugged frontier.

Still, I'm thinking I've got to be crazy. It's not just that I've journeyed 19,500 km from Toronto via L.A., Auckland, Melbourne and Darwin to venture into the most remote part of the Outback. But I'm obsessing that if this plane goes down I will be eaten by a saltwater crocodile faster than you can say the word.

"Get your hands back on the controls!" I want to say to O'Doherty, as I keep my eyes peeled on the altimeter to make sure the plane is still at 2,500 feet. We're on our way from Kununurra, a town of 5,000, to the Bush Camp at Faraway Bay, a spot so isolated it is only accessible by plane or by two-day boat trip from Darwin.

Owner and retired diamond prospector Bruce Ellison says he found the site -- 50 acres of crown land nestled on the Timor Sea -- by "flying around."

"It was a retirement project, " says the 61-year-old Ellison, who reminds me of Crocodile Dundee when he speaks.

It took him six years to obtain the government lease and four months to build the camp using materials brought in by barge from Wyndham, a mining town 36 hours away.

He named the site Faraway Bay because it's so removed from civilization.

The state of Western Australia makes up one-third the entire land mass of Australia. Its population, however, is a mere 1.9 million, 1.3 million of which live in Perth. The other 600,000 people are scattered throughout. No wonder the very top end is so isolated.

"It's just like landing on Australia when Captain Cook did ... it is so untouched," says Ellison's wife, Robyn.

O'Doherty veers toward a tiny airstrip I can just faintly make out between the trees and rock. He sets us down like fine china, a cloud of red dust swirling in our wake. We climb out of the Cherokee into the unrelenting sun. At 8 a.m. it is 28C, even though it is August and still winter.

Unpaved mining road

Loaded onto a 4X4 open-air military-type truck, we're jostled like a sack of potatoes for the next 20 minutes as Ellison drives over an unpaved mining road into the camp. By the time we arrive, we're covered in a layer of dust -- typical in this area that hasn't seen rain since February.

But the dry season from April to October is the best time to tour the region. Summer brings the "wets" when the roads are often flooded and risky to use. I see what Robyn means by "untouched."

When I naively express an interest in an ocean swim, Ellison warns me I'd be jockeying with the "log-odiles."

I have my own small cabin on a hill overlooking miles of land and shimmering blue waters. Our toilets and showers are outdoors -- covered only by a piece of burlap. The generator goes off at 9:15 p.m., leaving us to wend our way to the loo by flashlight (keeping our eyes peeled for snakes.) Ellison has us up at 5:30 a.m. to fish, hike and tour the coast in his dinghy.

We dine on freshly caught oysters, barramundi and trevally fish prepared by gourmet cook Kylie Burner over a firepit.

For this remote experience adventurers pay $550 (AUD) a day plus $550 (AUD) return for the flight.

Manhattan couple Annie and David Riedel are spending a week at the bush camp with David's dad and mom, Elizabeth and Bill, who live just outside of Adelaide.

"It was a perfect place to meet up," says David, who works in equity research with Salomon, Smith, Barney.

"Fishing is the catch for me and just seeing the wildlife."

Adds wife Annie: "It's an amazing experience."

Elizabeth says they made a "family pact" they weren't going to go on small planes but she decided not to worry about it. Just when I think I've passed the "remote" test, O'Doherty returns with student pilot Anthony Edwards at the controls.

This time we're on our way to El Questro, a million-acre wilderness park and cattle station 100 km from Kununurra.

Owner Will Burrell, originally from England, tells us he's "very proud" of what he's done with the park since he bought it 13 years ago at age 22.

Out of a run-down cattle station, he's created four different levels of accommodation from the posh Homestead where stars and wealthy corporate bigwigs "are seriously pampered" at $1,025 (AUD) a night to the more rustic tented cabins at the base of Emma Gorge, our home for two nights.

They still have 5,000 head of cattle and sell about 1,600 head a year to Indonesia, Malaysia and the Philippines. "Tourism is the success story we've forged out of nothing," he says.

Our second morning we climb a sweaty 1.6 km and back over massive rock formations into Emma Gorge.

I'm feeling a wee bit sorry for myself -- after "roughing it" in my tent-cabin -- until I meet 80-year-old Sally Boultbee and her 76-year-old sister-in-law Gwenda, both of whom have finished the same hike.

"It was a bit strenuous," says Gwenda, visiting from Perth.

Sighs Sally: "It was a hard day's night and I've been working like a dog."

If you go:

GETTING THERE: I flew over to Melbourne and return on Air New Zealand. Qantas was my domestic carrier. I took 16 flights involving hours of travel on my three-week Outback Odyssey and have no complaints.

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MORE INFO: Check out a special Web site created by the Australia Tourist Commission for more details on the spots featured in this story: www.australia.com/torontosun. Or you can contact their toll-free number: 1-888-228-8892.