Magnetic Island

So where does the name actually come from?

From the pull this island has on you? Or was it simply James Cook, whose compass needle went crazy near this island, a phenomenon that has never been observed again since 1770?

Measurement artefacts. Something you know quite well as a natural scientist, no matter which discipline you have played in. From 6 K anomalies to diffusion coefficients to ghost peaks, when someone once again walks past the detector with a sample too close to it.

I made the trip from Cairns by bus. Greyhound Australia, six hours to Townsville. The Spirit of Queensland, a train that takes about twenty hours from Cairns to Brisbane, was fully booked that day. So there I sat, at seven in the morning, on the bus, quite happy that the driver was not talking into the microphone.

I already knew parts of the landscape. I had come as far as Innisfail with Steve the day before. Dense, rich green, trees overgrown with vines and lianas, that typical tropical rainforest of North Queensland. Farther south, near Tully, there suddenly stood a giant golden gumboot with a frog on it. Steve had told an anecdote about it on the bus the day before. The gumboot stands for the highest rainfall ever recorded in one year in a populated Australian area. It is almost eight metres tall. That is how much rain fell there in one year. Eight metres of rain.

A few hours farther south, I noticed that the dense green was slowly giving way and being exchanged for that typical eucalyptus tree and grassland landscape I also know from Brisbane. To me, that means that from here to a thousand kilometres farther south, the landscape changes only slowly. Semi dry steppe, slightly greenish, yellowish, Australian. That is how distances are here. The beautiful tropical landscape is over, replaced by this wide, drier Queensland.

Eventually I arrived in Townsville. Conveniently, directly at the ferry port. At first I wandered around a little confused, until I noticed a young woman waving wildly at me and calling me over. I had met her while swimming at the reef. What a reunion with the young woman from Augsburg, who had been even more seasick than me. She had meanwhile detached herself from Mr Bombast, who had apparently got on her nerves, and was now heading south. She had just returned from Magnetic Island.

She gave me a few tips, and I gave her some for Brisbane. These days people do not exchange phone numbers anymore, but Instagram handles. Then I moved on.

Onto the ferry.

There I sat, and the ferry departed. I looked around at the passengers. Most of them were tattooed, but not with those classic Aussie tattoos, not those isolated ugly stick figures, but different ones. I took the earbuds out of my ears and listened a little, just to confirm my suspicion. Various European languages were being spoken. Italian here, Norwegian there, German very present. The island is a hotspot.

But that was not the only thing. Hairstyles, earrings, the whole appearance. These were not normal European holidaymakers. This was a very particular tribe that comes here. Hippies, dropouts, ravers.

With some people, you immediately know what is going on. A couple sat down right in front of me. She had “Lawless” tattooed across her neck in huge letters. Her guy next to her had “sharing is caring” thick on his forearm, which he kept putting right under your nose. Then you know what is up. The lawless piece that this guy would like to share is definitely not the kind you would gladly take. Truly not.

Not my kind of people. Really not.

With a smug little smile, I turned back to my music and the landscape. Not to the woman strutting up and down in front of me, blocking the beautiful view.

No sooner had I arrived on the island than I treated myself to the thing I had not had all day: a good coffee. It was available right by the bus stop while I waited for the bus. I had chosen my accommodation in Horseshoe Bay mainly because of the name. Something with Sunset. And that was my programme.

After a short bus ride, in a very full bus, I stood on the other side of the island and could move into my accommodation. I was a little exhausted. The last few days with all those sightseeing tours in Cairns had been very tightly scheduled, and sometimes I simply like having more time to let my soul dangle.

I went out again for sunset. And it really was beautiful. To give truth its due, I chose the wrong side of Australia for good sunsets. But on islands like this, you can watch really beautiful ones over the sea, if you are on the right side. And here, apparently, that is the case.

For the next day, I planned nothing. Except not getting up early. And that worked.

Horseshoe Bay really is not large, and the supermarket is massively overpriced. There is one nice café, maybe two, and that is almost it. So I explored the island by bus and sat on the beach again in the evening. There I had a truly spectacular sunset.

For the next day, I had resolved to finally photograph koalas in the wild. I have been in Australia for more than a year and still had not seen a koala. So much for that. Other animals either, but with some of them I am quite happy about that.

Yes, I could also go to the zoo. But in principle I do not like such institutions. The only reason I go to zoos is to compare them with the Wilhelma in Stuttgart and then deliver a devastating verdict afterwards. Stuttgart forever.

And of course, how could it be otherwise, I got going late. The sun was already high. No breakfast, two double espressos, and off I went towards Forts Junction. There I had another can of Coke, only to stand up at Forts Junction in the blazing sun when suddenly the shaking started and that uneasy feeling came. The insulin had done its job and pushed my blood sugar back down.

So there I stood, in the middle of a hike, with trembling legs.

It was not the first time something like this had happened to me. How often have I already got off my bike on a mountain in forty degree heat and thought: this is it now, I am going to die.

And as back then, so today: a short break in the shade and on we go. Of course I had nothing to eat with me, no preparation, and had simply followed a hiking trail that led straight into the bush. But it is all just psychology. Even when you think you cannot go any further, there is always something left. Several more hours, even. With that knowledge, I began the descent down towards Florence Bay. Two hundred metres of elevation, good stairs. On the way down, joggers came towards me, laughing cheerfully as they ran up the stairs in the heat.

I felt envy.

I then wobbled back towards home, took one more climb, and stood again in Horseshoe Bay in front of my accommodation. On my way, finally, to get something to eat. At two in the afternoon.

That was when my landlord came towards me. I was German, was I not, he asked. Tonight there would be a rave on the beach. Did I not want to go?

We urgently need to work on our image again. German, rave, really.

I smiled at him and asked whether it was one of those Australian raves. In Brisbane, I had also been invited to one. One that started at 6 pm and ended at midnight. I politely declined back then, and I still laugh about it today. That was one of the best jokes anyone has told me in Australia. A rave that starts at 6 pm and ends at midnight.

God.

A rave starts on Friday after work and ends on Monday morning when you go back to work. Full stop.

Besides, I am from Stuttgart. Someone who, back in the day, still went to the Röhre for drum and bass every first Friday of the month. You do not need to come at me with a beach rave. The Röhre, oh oh. I did not leave much out when I was young, and that is a good thing. I do not miss anything today. I do not need to catch up on anything. I was extremely experimental back then.

Now I sit here and laugh from ear to ear.

Where was I? Right, the rave.

My landlord said I would recognise him by his inflatable silver pillow, in case I changed my mind. I had other plans, and they had something to do with the sunset.

Originally, I had wanted to go to a part of Magnetic Island where, at sunset, herds of wallabies run across a field. I had seen videos of it. But to be honest, I never got around to it. I simply could not get away from the beach right outside my door. I could not miss it. And well, those videos of the wallaby herds, I could not make better ones either.

The next day, ambition took hold of me. I had a proper breakfast, and then I went back onto the walk from the day before, only a little the other way round. Every cove, every bay, every stair, every climb. A small relaxed loop. Eleven kilometres, eight hundred metres of elevation, almost only stairs.

It was wonderful.

Truly a beautiful walk right outside the door. Every cove, every bay, sweat running down, and it really is true: when you push yourself physically with endurance exercise, you eventually fall into a kind of mental state that is almost meditative. Everything unimportant becomes quiet, and what matters becomes present. That was really good, even if a little short.

I have done many such tours in my life. Of course, the Himmelsleiter in Heidelberg, San Fruttuoso in the Portofino National Park, or Naples still stand out. But I love stairs. And these here are really not bad either. In the heat. Sadly a little short. Never mind. Still beautiful.

I was back in the bay long before sunset. Never mind. It was beautiful.

In the evening I stood on the beach again. Since it was Saturday, there were many people around, especially Aussies. They were sitting on the beach with camping chairs and bottles of wine, watching the sunset. One group here, another group there. All very communicative and friendly. They did not turn away when they realised you were not one of them.

Really, over the last few days in Australia, people have all been so friendly, kind and open. Is it me? Have I changed, and are people now reacting differently to me?

These are exactly the interactions with people that you have in your head when you used to think of Australia. Everyone nice, friendly, helpful. You get tips about where it is beautiful too, where you should go, what there is to see and photograph. Even on this evening, on this beach.

So I began thinking about whether I had changed. Or whether it is simply because, in tourist areas, people are used to others coming from different countries and communicating as well.

There are still a few puzzle pieces I need to put together before I can deliver a final verdict.

In that sense.