Magnetic Attraction
OK, so the title is corny, but it’s fitting all the same. Magnetic Island (so named when Capt’n Hook experienced a compass malfunction while passing by) exerts a notable pull. I wish I was back there now. I wouldn’t want to live there, but it would’ve been great to stay a bit longer.
For starters, it is sunny here—most of the time. And there’s plenty of wildlife. 
Only a few yards from our accommodation, we saw what I mistook for a flock of crows, until I saw the birds’ heads. They were red-tailed black cockatoos, gathered under a beach-almond tree which they visit so regularly that there was a sign about them: the clever parrots scar the almonds and drop them from the tree, then return a few days later to feed on the softened fruit.
As soon as we approached the tree, the birds sought refuge in the branches. But as I looked up, a white flash passed overhead. It turned out to be a spectacular sulphur-crested cockatoo. Once again, it felt as if we had stepped inside an aviary.
Not to be outdone, a spur-winged plover stalked across a patch of lawn nearby. It had chicks, so we never got very close.
I was glad that we had opted against taking the bus, but by the time we got to Nelly Bay and sat down to recuperate at the ‘Fat Possum Café’, John’s flip-flops had rubbed the skin of his feet sore. We needed transport.
The traditional mode of transport on Magnetic Island is a form of buggy called a moke. Moke is what the things are called collectively, but they have individual names as well, and 68 dollars bought us the use of ‘Marvin the Martian’ for 24 hours.
We had time on our hands because John’s bunged-up sinuses meant that we had to miss diving the world-famous Yongala (not that they’d let me anyway without a PADI certification, grrr. Once again, time had run out—will I ever get around to getting one?), but Magnetic Island has ample compensation on offer. Zipping around the coastline in Marvin the Martian, I gaped at the amazing views. And on a half-hour stroll on one of the easy paths that criss-cross the national park—while John was chatting to the lady conveniently selling ice-cold juices at the park entrance—I saw my first koala in the wild. It was soundly asleep in a small eucalyptus tree right by the path, barely an arm’s-length overhead.
The koala and the birds weren’t our first wildlife-encounters on the island either. On the previous night, a possum stopped to nibble at my finger, on its way to the beer can under my seat. It didn’t get that far, but the Xbase‘s resident population of possums have adapted to revelling hours and are doing well with the other backpackers. It seems that the local wildlife likes hanging out in bars.
I could hardly believe my eyes when a bush stone curlew (right) blatantly walked into the pub where we had fish and chips for dinner. And as for the kookaburra (middle), it sat on a fence just outside the toilet block, spying for lizards and insects attracted to the lights. Approach any closer, and it would open its enormous bill and see you off. It would not be the only bully-bird we came across on our visit.
Denni
July 1st, 2007 at 16:40
[…] Late-ish one night on Magnetic Island, with the staff all busy inside the bar, a Moroccon expat snug into the Xbase’s smoking area with a full-sized shisha in tow and—so help me—a tin of glowing coals. He invited us all around to share and so it came that I smoked my first shisha under the Southern Cross, until the spoilsports from the bar chased him away. […]