What is it about islands that makes them intrinsically more exciting than the mainland? There are some obvious answers: being surrounded by ocean on all sides, small local communities, etc etc.. But here’s another great thing about islands – you can put a whole bunch of Koalas on them and they can’t go anywhere.
That’s what they did on Magnetic island. In the 1930s, Australia’s Koala populations were in steep decline. Habitat loss and fragmentation, competition with invasive species, and road fatalities were all contributing factors. As concern for the species’ survival increased, somebody eventually put forward an idea that is as simple as it is genius – “What if we just take the koalas and put them somewhere else?”
It worked like a charm. The 20 koalas introduced to Magnetic Island have since increased to an estimated 800. It is now one of Australia’s few remaining koala havens, and is considered the best place to spot one in the wild.
Koalas aside, the island is also home to a thriving population of wallabies and echidnas. My goal for my week on Magnetic Island was to spot all three aforementioned species.
I hopped on the ferry to the island on a breezy, overcast afternoon. I picked a seat up on the open second floor, right next to the edge. This was a mistake. About half way through the 20-minute journey, the ferry collided with a large wave at an angle that sent a focused jet blast of water up the side of the ship. Fortunately for 49 of the 50 passengers, the blast of water only struck one small spot. Unfortunately for me, that small spot happened to be my face.
You could’ve thrown me in the ocean and I wouldn’t have gotten any wetter. I was absolutely soaked. Truthfully, being wet didn’t bug me nearly as much as suddenly having the attention of everyone else on board. I can’t tell you how many times a middle-aged man came up as we disembarked and said a slightly different iteration of “hey mate you look a little wet.” Classic.
I hopped off the ferry and onto the public bus. It was late afternoon, and the sun was waning. That 15-minute bus ride across the island may have been the best moment of my trip to that point. It was stunning view after stunning view. Everything I had seen in Australia up to that point was jungle. I love the jungle more than anywhere else, but I was thrilled to finally be seeing landscapes that looked distinctly Australian. Hoop pines, kapok trees, eucalyptus. – you couldn’t mistake it for anywhere else on earth.
I hopped off the bus, quickly checked into the hostel and tossed my bags into my dorm, and rushed out to the woods to search for wildlife before the sun set. A few minutes in, I saw a pair of Agile Wallabies. In just over an hour in, I was one for three.
I set out the next morning to start looking for Koalas. I picked a trail called the Forts Walk, which is known for being the best spot on the island to see Koalas. It even has this amazing warning at the entrance. They did a great job of making the most harmless looking creature I’ve ever seen look like an unhinged murder-machine.
It only took a couple hours to spot my first Koala. He was right at eye level, fast asleep in the trees. Knowing Koalas sleep 20 hours of the day and are rarely active outside dawn and dusk, I had to decide whether waiting around all day just to potentially see a Koala wake up was worth my time.
Just kidding. It was never in question. I plonked down on a nearby boulder, opened up a book, and waited. I got lucky. Two and a half hours in, the Koala suddenly shot its head up, looking startled. Either Koalas are capable of having nightmares, or it heard something I didn’t. I’ve never in my life seen a creature fight harder to stay awake than that Koala. It looked over the area with one eye closed, fell asleep, woke back up for another scan, fell asleep again, woke up to scratch and itch, let out a massive yawn, and went back to sleep for good. Less than 24 hours on the island and I was two for three. Now to find an echidna!
But first, it was finally time to snorkel. Prior to Magnetic Island, I had somehow gone a month and a half in Australia without snorkelling. Every other attempt had been foiled by poor ocean conditions. The waters were still looking choppy, but I decided I’d give it a go anyways as I was itching to finally try out underwater photography.
One of the most telling signs of how long someone’s been doing photography, in my opinion, is the amount of pictures they take. The first week I bought my camera, I remember taking 400 near-identical pictures of a porcupine. But as you start to understand the components of a good photograph, you get better at waiting for the right moment and knowing when to walk away. It can be disheartening, especially when you’ve been searching for a specific animal for a long time, but accepting that the conditions aren’t right to get a good shot is an important skill.
This knowledge went right out the window the second I hopped in the ocean. There was no sunlight, the water was rough, and visibility was limited. The conditions couldn’t have been worse for underwater photography. Every time I saw a new type of fish, I’d point my camera in its general direction and start tapping the shutter as fast as I possibly could. Meanwhile the waves were tossing me all over the place. I kept at it for a few hours until my camera battery had died. Of the hundreds of photos I took, I think this is somehow the best of the bunch. Underwater photography might not be my calling…
The next day, I started my echidna hunt. Echidnas start breeding in late June, which makes them especially active. My odds were good. I set out at dawn to a spot they’re commonly found with the plan of covering as much ground as possible, stopping whenever I heard any rustling in the bushes.
This simple plan was made difficult by the fact that the area I chose had lots of dense brush, making visibility low. I’d often hear rustling nearby without being able to see the source. Because the area I was hiking was home to a lot of ground-nesting birds (and it’s share of spiders and snakes), I wasn’t able to step off the set path for a closer look. This led to a lot of situations where I’d hear something nearby and wait for a long time to be, only for it to be a bird. Orange-footed Scrubfowl were the worst culprits – the chicken-sized ground birds were everywhere and blend in to their surroundings incredibly well. After a full day and 35,000 steps of echidna hunting, I gave up for the day.
Back at my hostel, I met a fellow Canadian who had seen an echidna earlier in the week. He showed me a video of a completely unafraid echidna walking right next to him on the trail. He gave me the name of the trail and general area he saw it.
“They’re definitely out there, you just have to stop and look whenever you hear anything shaking the bushes nearby,” he advised.
“I’ll give that a go.”
The next morning, I set out to the spot where the echidna was spotted. I was feeling hopeful. However, I accidentally got distracted photographing skinks, and suddenly the day was almost over.
I only had a couple hours until sunset, and I was leaving the island the next day. On the bright side, the golden hour lighting was perfect. If I did happen to see an echidna, the conditions couldn’t be better for photos. After a bit of searching, I came across some freshly dug soil that I figured was done by an echidna.
I walked a little further, and heard something nearby. It sounded too large to be a bird, and it was digging. I got my camera ready, found a good vantage point, and waited. The noise was far off, but sounded to be slowly heading my way. After a good hour of waiting impatiently, I saw it – just another Orange-legged Scrubfowl.
So look… I don’t normally talk to birds. I know the fact I even need to state that isn’t great. But in realizing my last chance to see an Echidna while on the island was gone, I needed to let the Scrubfowl know how I felt. “You are the most useless bird I’ve met in my life,” I said angrily as a pair of hikers came around the corner.
You win some you lose some, I guess. Two for three isn’t so bad! Luckily, Echidnas can be found all over Australia, so there’s still a good chance I’ll see one.
This was the best week of my trip. I saw so much more than Koalas and Wallabies – Monitor lizards, tropical fish, Blue-winged Kookaburras, Gallahs, a Noisy Pitta, and so much more. In the evenings I’d watch the sun set on the ocean, enjoy a beer while listening to live music, and plan out my next day’s adventure.
I’m a mega-introvert and have bad social anxiety. I left for Australia thinking that staying in dorms would instantly snap me out of this, and I’d magically metamorphose into a social butterfly. In hindsight I should’ve known that wouldn’t be the case. Making those changes isn’t a passive thing, and the small steps I’ve made so far have taken a lot of work. I’m still terrified every time I step into my dorm, I still find myself making excuses for why I can’t come along to a bar when I’m invited, but I’m slowly but surely hitting my stride.
I met a lot of cool people while on the island. No lifelong friends or travel companions yet, but I’m getting there. On my first night, I promised myself I’d say yes if I was invited to do anything. As luck would have it, I was walking past the hostel bar when a couple in their late 30s invited me for a beer. They seemed a tad unhinged, but I stuck by my promise and accepted.
My first impression was right, they were indeed unhinged. Bonafide lunatics. I only understood a third of what they were talking about, but I actually had a blast. There’s something very refreshing about having a conversation with someone who is completely detached from all social norms; my guard was down in minutes. That ended up being the first of three nights we shared a beer.
There’s something special about sitting down for a beer with a complete stranger. Someone you’d never talk to in a million years if not for the hostel environment. Each time I do it, the world gets a bit larger. I’m slowly getting better at approaching strangers, and at saying yes to things, and it’s been so rewarding.
I have a better idea of why islands are so great now. I was only on Magnetic Island for 6 nights, but by the time I left it felt more familiar than any of my previous destinations. Each day I walked around the island, I’d piece together a fuller picture. I’d find that one route connects to another, find a new shortcut, or discover a new hidden spot. I’d revisit my favourite pubs and takeaway spots and be greeted by the same friendly faces. By the end of the week, it felt familiar. Magnetic Island is my favourite place on earth. I have a feeling I’ll be back.
“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.” – Anthony Bourdain
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