Extinct Volcanos and sore butt cheeks (Lord Howe Island)
After wandering through the Valley of the Shadows and emerging to The Clear Place, the oxygen washed over the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean rides over the blue expanse some 15,000kms from Argentina and enters your lungs — each atom and molecule surfing the air currents unabated or disturbed by anything physical until that all important breath to sustain existence merges into the bloodstream to become a part of the soul forever. Diamonds, gold and everything material pales in comparison against the elixir of existence that is the gift that allowed for evolution to concoct these windows to the mind that can see the outline of Balls Pyramid appearing like a mirage through the mists of an approaching front that are carrying winds of 50 knots and pushing ten meter swells up against this extinct volcano that is Lord Howe Island.
Whatever the forces that dictate the migration of upright apes over continents joined together millennia’s ago, this truly piece of paradise was either missed or inaccessible until we manipulated our thumbs to be able to craft floating forests in search for the edge of the world. A mere grain of sand in the timeline of existence and what surely must have been a chance encounter must have had the explorer on the deck blinking twice as what I hope was his first sight on the horizon being Balls Pyramid. After the initial shock of seeing such an imposing rock is his sight, I imagine him looking into the distance and seeing the silhouette of Mt Gower and setting sail to further explore what this oasis in the middle of a demanding ocean could be. Sailing around the mountain and looking over the serene waters of “The Lagoon” to an untouched by human skin landscape surely conjured up emotions that only he knew. I expect after such a spiritual experience he poured himself a rum, opened the log book and penned the following…….”On this day I decree that in the future only rusty bicycles with extremely hard and buttocks bruising seats will be the form of transportation around the island”.
I had Lord Howe Island on the bucket list for some time and it was only due to an insistent money driven corporate entity that the demand to reduce the accrued accumulation of allocated non finance, schedule keeping, procedure following sun rotations (more commonly known as “leave”) was thrust upon me……”take some leave now” was the narrative. The concept of using these days for painting walls, cleaning garages or trimming gardens around the home is foreign to me, so with frequent flyer points a plenty, I plugged in some time from my island at the bottom of the planet (Tasmania) for another island in the middle of the ocean. The open-ended invitation from blood relatives to come across and stay was activated, and the course was set. Having read horror stories of weight allocations on the eggbeater (Dash 8) that goes from Sydney to Lord Howe I weighed every item twice, allocated various items to various bags and was as ready to roll. Arriving at the departure gate in Sydney for the flight I joined the other six people and boarded the plane (so much for the weight issue…I could have gotten a couple more bottles of whisky in).
I honestly do not think that anything can prepare you for the sight of Lord Howe Island in the distance out your window as you begin to descend to land. Clean blue waters over pristine reefs lead to a blue that changes colour on every blink. Golden sands to green grass with pine trees and palms guarded by mountains at both ends of a beach crescent that reminds you that this was a volcano in another life. This would have to be a Qantas pilots dream gig. Taxiing to the terminal I see bare footed cousins waving and it is not long until the doors open to the fresh air that is Lord Howe Island. I am greeted by one of my cousins with a very smart looking dog on a lead that is designed to search for rats and lizards in what is currently an eradication program on the island. Relieved that no rats or lizards were unknown castaways in my socks I was allowed onto the island for the adventure to begin.
A twenty minute tour of all the roads on the way back from the airport for navigation purposes was jaw dropping enough before arriving at what was to be home for the next seven days (was meant to be five days, but Armageddon winds marooned me and extended the experience). Overlooking the eastern side of the island towards Argentina is a steel dog sculpture that welcomes you to the dream location of city dwellers around the world. A vast veranda around a wooden home nestled amongst the trees with an outlook of ocean and expanse that you only really see in Richard Branson doco’s. The home is filled with memories of a family growing and a large chalk board with the words “welcome cousin Brett” greet me to what was to be my base for the next six nights. A quick reccy around the property before securing some supplies and heading down to Old Settlement Beach for a snorkel and a king fish wrap (you have not lived until you have had a kingfish wrap cooked on the wood fired barbeque overlooking crystal clear waters and pristine mountains — sustenance from the gods). Snorkelling around I could not help but think that some of the coral was bleached — climate change touches everywhere. Still, the underwater world opened up in clear waters with white sands and the colours of the spectrum were reflected in the fish that seems quite content if not amused to see such a whale sized Tasmanian tan shadowing their existence. With the help of the cousins we searched for a Lord Howe island dwelling turtle but alas the turtle footy must have been on and no one turned up (for the duration of the stay — one added excuse to return in the future).
With life on an island not revolving around me, I was shown a rusty bicycle in lieu of a motor the following morning and waved goodbye to children departing for school (love the no shoes uniform policy — have now instigated this for my office) and the large mammals to their various day jobs. The joyful sounds of a young family negotiating positions of power as well as forever looking for a subject to laugh at is always a lovely soundscape…..but…the sounds of the distant hum of the last vehicle departing and fading behind the breaking waves and the calls of Sooty Turns (or Wide Awakes as they are locally known) migrating birds whilst doing their annual mating ritual just off the island (thousands of these birds just circling around each other) captured the sun in the East and beckoned me to just sit and take it all in for a bit. Whilst I am a large human, I had been going to the gym a fair bit and considered myself reasonably fit (ish) and the prospect of a bike as means of transportation did not bother me at all — in fact I was quite looking forward to it. Backpack filled with essentials I pushed off with a confident and comfortable well-balanced dispatch for a day on the bike. Alas, it was not the legs or lungs that where the issue — the leather seats of my Volvo had conditioned my butt for something significantly more comfortable than a Lord Howe Island weathered bike seat made of concrete and whilst a hastily devised towel around the seat helped a little, the allure of island cycling lost its mystic really quickly. Regardless, I pushed on and covered the island in a day. One of the highlights was a decent wander out too Little Island that rests under the watchful eye of Mount Lidgbird and Mt Gower — it is as far as you can walk without a guide. I emerged from deep tropical forests into a clearing that was deserted but for myself and the sun. I laid down on the soft grass and listened to the waves break on the rocks and the birds sing to each other for about an hour before wandering back to my bum numbing machine and embarking on the journey back. After a short snorkel in the lagoon I had the best burger in 750km’s from the local store (it was the best burger — it is true) and wandered back to the house.
Over the next few days I watched this island paradise transform from a post card tropical island into the penultimate reminder that this is an extinct volcano sitting in the sea. The winds came from the South and they came with a vengeance — 50–60 knots winds with a ten-metre swell crashed into the island with little mercy. Palm trees were bent over, waves were crashing into the rocks and beaches, sand bit into the legs if you attempted a beach walk, rain would come from no where and drench the island with sideways bullet drops, the sun disappeared, the washing wrapped itself around the line five times and even Qantas decided to cancel all its flights (not only in Lord Howe Island but also Sydney). Situation dire with that deep deep purple patch on the rain and wind radar being directly over the island — the colour that conjures dread and leaves you marvelled at the force of nature and the realisation that we are simply one species of evolved apes that have a couple of tools — powerless against the forces of a planet circling a giant star…..so it would be stupid to consider jumping into the co-pilot seat of little Cessna and fly into the wind to go look at a giant rock pocking out of the ocean some 20kms off the island above ten metre swells….wouldn’t it? Apparently not.
I have walked on the Great Wall of China, taken a look at Saint Pete’s bones under the Vatican, seen Roger Waters perform “The Wall” live in London, visited a remote village in Papua New Guinea and received the Chief’s pig tusk as a necklace and a myriad of other things that are pretty awesome — but in the top five things I have ever done, hoping into a Cessna 310 with cousins Jim and Max with pilot “Friendly” and taking off from a volcano in madness winds and flying out 20km’s over the ocean to see Ball’s Pyramid is right up there on that list of “excellent”. Watching clouds scoot across the sky at more than twice the speed you are going and seeing nothing but white and dark blue below you as the salt filled misty air in front of you slowly dissipates and you are confronted with around half a kilometre of rock sticking out of the ocean is something, as much as I hate cliches, is …. words cannot describe. So here is a picture.
Three weeks after returning from Lord Howe Island to Tasmania my butt cheeks have finally begun to unclench after “Friendly” asked the question….”just let me know when the light is right and I will get that wing out of the way for your photo” before he dropped the right wing and I was looking at what you see above (thinking one gust of wind the wrong way and I was going to be a memorial on the island). Thankfully it was smooth flying despite the hype and the end result being one of those life moments that I can forever say to the cousins “remember when….”. Outstanding.
Duck curry at Anchorage Restaurant, Burgers at Thommo’s, roasts in the pizza oven at the Cuz’s, Rache’s fish curry and king fish wraps on the barbeque were amazing, but the fish fry at the Lord Howe Golf Club takes the cake. The people behind the scenes are excellent humans and the service of how these culinary masterpieces are delivered are second to none. That big fella who always delivered the fish, chips and coleslaw with a smile and a story about how he braved the ten metre swell in the oceans that morning to catch the fish added to the most excellent of experiences that visitors will be talking about for years…..is what I think everyone who was at the golf club the evening I was on service would be saying! I wear the opportunity to deliver meals and wash dishes as a badge and working with Simon, Tracey, Jim and Haley as well as the rest of the crew allowed me to experience what island life is really about — community. There is a real sense of ownership of this island paradise and it is reflected in the people that live there. From the lifting of a finger as you pass each car at no more than 25km’s an hour, to the smile and genuine interest in where you are from and why you are here to the excitement of the fortnightly arrival of the mail on the ship — it is truly a happy world that is sadly disappearing on the bigger islands of the planet.
So thank you to the fish at Ned’s beach, thank you to the contemplating moments of Little Island, thank you to the sweat and grunts for Signal Hill Lookout (just a small walk they said), thank you to the faint but inspiring silhouette of Ball’s Pyramid off the Clear Place, thank you to the Valley of the Shadows during a downpour, thank you to the cuz’s, thank you to the smiles and the stories — you know you are all lucky humans (you don’t need a “off islander” to tell you that). See you all again someday….in the meantime, you are all invited to my island at the bottom of the planet anytime!
