Magnetic Island, Thirty Four Years Ago

A return to 1991, and my (very) occasional dips into my Australian tour diary. Twenty years old, travelling solo, and a couple of nights on the wonderful Magnetic Island, 8km out from Townsville on the northeastern coast. 

I've cut out the "touristy" bits - this isn't a travel brochure - and the minutiae of meal times, my musings on sardine sandwiches as dry on the page as they were in the mouth. 

Happy memories of BlogCon25 still fresh in my mind, I was delighted to rediscover that I'd met one of my current community's namesakes thirty four years ago, on my travels. Or was it in fact one and the same, travelling incognito with a false Canadian passport (and accent)? 

Sadly, there is no photographic evidence for me to determine one way or another...

Today's soundtrack has neatly avoided the obvious pick of The Magnetic Fields and instead I've gone for songs with 'magnetic' in the title. 

Luckily enough, Sydney-based artist Zankee Gulati had the common decency to release a song called Magnetic Island last October. The other three picks - by Juno Reactor, Sasha and Dub Trees (Youth, Greg Hunter & Simon Posford with Mark Manning aka Zodiac Mindwarp) follow a similarly electronic route. 

Looking at the UK Top 10 for this week in 1991, I can only say that I am glad I was on the other side of the world, and largely spared the horror.

Anyway, enough of the preamble, it's diary time!

Saturday 15th June

I boarded the awaiting minibus and travelled from Picnic Bay to Horseshoe Bay, on the opposite end of Magnetic Island, 10km north. Geoff's Place, as the hostel was called, turned out not to be a hostel at all, but a widespread group of detached log cabins, each having four beds...and nothing else. I took the only bed that wasn't on ground level then set off for the beach.

As it was mid-afternoon, the sea had all but vanished from the bay, leaving dirty-looking sand and anchored boats behind. I explored in one direction for a little while, then settled against a half-submerged log and ate a packet of crisps, my first meal of the day. Exhaustion overtook me and I fell asleep, waking just in time to catch the sunset. The sky was beautiful that night.

Sunday 16th June

My bed was reminiscent of the one in Coolangatta: you could sleep all night long in it, but you would feel like shit as soon as you awoke. The shower and washroom were distinctly undesirable, so I did what I had to do in as little time as possible.

In a strange quirk of fate, rinsing my face after a shave, I looked into the mirror and saw The Swede from Melbourne staring back at me; he had just returned from a week's diving in Cairns. It was good to see him again.

After a brief conversation, we went to the beach, miraculously transformed by the incoming tide into a paradisal retreat, and a had a swim (twice). We were rewarded with unbelievably warm water. I love this place!

We stayed long enough to see a group of horse riders galloping along the beach and into the sea, and witness a beautiful sunset a short time later. 

On our return to Geoff's Place, I met two of my three new room-mates, all women. One is from Bristol and used to work in the clothes shop in front of Tony's Records in the city centre. Her absent friend apparently lives in Frampton Cottrell. It's such a small world, isn't it?

There were two frogs in the washroom, one big, one small, both bright green. I touched the big one. It's skin felt weird.

Monday 17th June

I slept reasonably well, woken occasionally by the sound of wandering possums, one stopping to scratch at the cabin door for a while. My room-mates had a worse night, complaining of the cold. I was quietly relieved that it wasn't my snoring...!

A large number of us were leaving Magnetic Island, so the minibus was dangerously overcrowded with people and packages, but we made it to the harbour unscathed. 

I had been walking around with The Swede, and we had just stopped to have a drink and write postcards when I spotted Chris, one half of the Canadian duo that I'd befriended in Byron Bay. Chris was also leaving the island and heading back to Townsville, albeit on a different ferry, so I made arrangements to meet up for a drink on the mainland.

Arriving in Townsville, I said farewell to The Swede, who was travelling on, and checked in at the Transit Centre Hostel, a very new building with ultra-clean white sheets and nice looking rooms, a complete contrast to what I'd left behind on Magnetic Island. 

After a short walk around town, I popped into The Shamrock Hotel bar and found Chris, with a chap called Rod from Lancashire. Chris' companion Clark had carried on to Cairns and I learned that our mutual friend John had already passed through Townsville on his way home. 

The three of us spent a couple of hours in the pub, drinking Guinness, until their (delayed) coach to Cairns arrived. All too soon, it was time to say goodbye once more.

I returned to the hostel for a much needed shower - imagine having an ice-cold shower in the midst of an English winter!!

Boy, do my boots stink, though...