We expected the heat and the high humidity, but we didn’t expect the hellos.
Every single person you walk past on Thursday Island greets you – probably with a smile but it was hard to see those behind the masks.
COVID restrictions hit the Torres Strait just as we arrived for a three-month work stint. And while it was lucky COVID didn’t get here before vaccination rates were high enough, it still meant doing things differently.
We also arrived at the island the week after New Year, and in the middle of the wet, non-tourist season. That meant it was quiet. No cars on the few streets. Are we the only ones on this island? Will the coffee shop ever open?
Actually, the answer to that last one was no. Not while we were there. You could get a cappucino from the fast food/chicken outlet, and a great coffee from a van, but that was it.
So there we were, on a 3.5 square kilometre island, two plane rides, a bus trip, a ferry and a taxi ride from our starting point.
What would we find to do when I wasn’t at work?
Well, we walked laps of the island – at one stage tromping through swamp because Google Maps doesn’t know the difference between a road and a potential road.
I rode laps of the island. We explored the cemetery – an absolute historic cracker. We tagged along on nights out at two of the island’s three pubs, including Australia’s most northern pub, the Torres.
We hauled ourselves up to Green Hill fort to watch the sunset. There were always others up there enjoying the view, the cockatoos settling down for the night and the bats flying out. When we couldn’t bear the climb to the fort we went to the Bowls Club for the sunset. It only afforded half a sunset, you didn’t have to break a sweat to see it and you had an ocean-side seat.
We hired a boat and a guide and went to adjacent Prince of Wales Island, walking through the bush to a waterfall.
As we were carless, I walked to work in the rain some days. I commuted via an hour-long ferry nine times, when my office for the day was Bamaga on the mainland. I’ve never had a commute that necessitated Kwells before.
We joined the local outriggers for a couple of social paddles, and got to see the island from a different vantage point. Despite our best efforts, we didn’t see any crocs, turtles or dugongs.
After three months of smiles and sweat, our no-car semi-isolation was over and we started the return ferry, bus, flight, flight, drive to Bowen for a week of R and R before heading to Townsville.
I’d love to go back during tourist season to see the island humming, but I appreciate that we probably got to see the “real’ TI, and it was a pleasure.
A sound adventure 