Having “summitted” by reaching Pajinka (the tip of Cape York and continental Australia’s most northerly point) last week the final hop, step and jump to my first lighthouse at Booby Island seemed to be a given. I was to take the ferry from Seisia to Thursday Island (TI to the locals), where I would rendezvous with Sam Scales, a friend’s brother whom I hadn’t met and who would be my host at his home away from home on Long Beach on Prince of Wales Island, which would be my “base camp” for the final assault on Booby Island, a mere 14km further to the west across open ocean. Easy, right!

The first hint of trouble was when I discovered that the Thursday Island ferry didn’t run on Thursdays, which seemed somewhat ironic. No problem an extra day at Loyalty beach wasn’t a bad proposition. The second realisation was when I was told that Monday was a public holiday and there wouldn’t be a ferry then either. So, in addition to the extra day at Loyalty it looked as if I would be having a couple of extra days at Long Beach. Again, this was no bad thing and in the spirit of not planning too far ahead, and taking each day as it comes, I rationalised it as a lesson in “island time”.

As I boarded the ferry at Seisia on Friday morning it was with anticipation that I looked forward to my island sojourn. The ferry departed on time and my first observation was just how many islands there were, the further we went the more island seemed to come into view. The second observation was that it was windy, very windy, and when we arrived and disembarked the full strength of the wind became apparent when it nearly blew me off the wharf!

After a short wait Sam arrived looking like a drowned rat and from there everything went swimmingly, literally, with a very wet ride in an open boat from TI to Long Beach, including a quick stop at Friday Island to drop supplies off for Don a thirty year castaway and my first taste of island life. After an hour of battling the elements I was relieved to find Long Beach was protected from the prevailing south-easterly and we arrived at a pristine white beach that was completely deserted.

No sooner had we hit sand than Greg appeared from the treeline. Greg is well know throughout the islands as “the old man of the sea” and knows the waterways better than most having skippered all manner of vessels around these islands for most of his working life. I was told he escaped an upbringing in Kings Cross in Sydney for a lifestyle as far removed geographically and culturally as possible, and he found the answer here 60 odd years ago! Without needing to do the maths I realised island life must have been very agreeable for Greg as he looked about 20 years younger than he must have been. Having successfully moored Sam’s boat we adjourned to Greg place, a concoction of building materials he’d cobbled together over the past 30 years, for the mandatory welcoming beer.

Once that was done it was into the ute for the short drive down the “esplanade”, a sandy track, to Sam’s place. Not quite knowing what to expect I know I wasn’t expecting to find what I did, an assortment of cabins and outbuildings including a flash safari tent straight out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue.

As most people know northern Australia has two distinct “bipolar” seasons; the dry, which is very dry and usually runs from May until the “build up” in November / December and then full blown wet season usually from January through to April. These seasons are characterised by prevailing winds, SouEast trade winds in the dry with the NorWest monsoon in the wet. Like everything in these parts the wind is extreme, a howling SE trade winds that persisted during my stay and was forecast to continue for the next few weeks. According to Greg, what I had imagined to be a simple boat trip out to Booby was very high risk as the the combination of wind and currents made it a very dangerous, and there was no safe landing point on the island. Another unanticipated problem was that I would need to get the traditional landowners approval. If I’d done my due diligence I would have been forewarned of these issues but that would have been contrary to the ethos of my journey – wherever possible to seek forgiveness rather than permissions. This was probably a lesson best learned at my first port of call!

So, with the realisation that I wouldn’t be setting foot on Booby Island I had to make do with the fact that at least I could see it flashing at night from Long Beach, which brought back memories of my childhood.

I guess I should have been disappointed at this outcome but the reality was that I would never have come to this wonderful part of the World, or met Sam and Greg if it wasn’t for Booby Island. Not only that but I discovered all sorts of interesting stories and amazing facts that I have included in my “Lighthouse Story #1” that would have eluded me had I not made the effort to come and have a look for myself.

And so it was that I spent several days playing Robinson Crusoe, or perhaps I was Friday, exploring the island on quad bikes, discovering the joy of an open air bathroom, keeping an eye out for nasty reptiles and meeting a few more fiendly ones, having as many laughs as drinks and generally remembering that life doesn’t need to be complicated, and, ironically enough, given the names of the surrounding islands, forgetting which day of the week it was!