Aussisms for the day:

• Cockie/cocky – A small scale farmer. A cow-cockie is a dairy farmer
• Spear, get the – To be sacked
• on One’s Pat – Alone (Short for ‘on one’s Pat Malone: rhyming slang)

Location: Heron Island

Weather: Scattered white clouds and bright sunshine. Perfect day in my mind. 24c

There’s deserted islands….and there’s real deserted islands.

If I conjure up the image in my head of exactly what one would look like, I think white sandy beach, thick green scrub, clear blue sunny skies and a crystal clear ocean all around. That is Wilson Island.

As we neared the shore, half an hour after leaving Heron Island, Bec carefully navigated through the reef, which was becoming more obvious on the outgoing tide and powered us to a halt on the coral sands. Our hosts Nathan and Lynda met us (the local Island Caretakers) and what an office and back yard they have!

‘Isolation’ is the name of our accommodation, a luxury safari-style tent on the western end of the island which overlooks the ocean, has our first hammock of the trip and gorgeous goose-down bedding. Somewhere, somehow I’ll fall asleep here, no problems.

There’s a maximum number of guests catered for on the island – 12! Each tent provides a sumptuous sleeping area for two people and there’s a communal day tent too overlooking the water.

The beauty of Wilson is the individuality of the place, you feel personally catered for the moment you arrive and even more so when you gather in the Longhouse for dinner – a hardwood open-sided building and the focal point to the evening’s entertainment where Nathan and Lynda conjure up a gastronomic delight with the limited kitchen they have available; two gas stoves, a gas-powered fridge and awesome wooden counters, plus the grandest of dining tables hewn from dark hardwood.

The Capricornia Cays, of which Wilson is one, support 84% of Australia’s Pisonia forests, which provide cover and shelter for breeding birds hence why they choose this island to bring up their young.

However during the flowering stage of the Pisonia tree, the buds are particularly sticky and this coincides with the Noddy, Shearwater and Heron hatchling season when the young wander from the nest, get caught in the sticky goo and die of starvation there. The body eventually falls to the ground acting as a natural fertiliser for the Pisonia tree. Cruel but extremely necessary for somewhere as nutritionally deficient as a coral cay.

Sunset drinks are tradition here as guests and the host gather on the western shore to share conversation, cheese and a glass of bubbly – awesome. It’s at this time of night that the immediate foreshore becomes a hive of activity too with a bait-ball of small fish racing up and down the beach furiously pursued by small reef sharks and game fish, the occasional group of them jumping clean out of the water in shimmering silver splashes.

Over dinner Nathan told us that on the sand cay in the distance there’s a catamaran which slipped its mooring in Fiji/Samoa, has drifted across the ocean and come to rest here on one of the hundreds of cays on the Great Barrier Reef – its been plundered of all goodies but remains there for now. I wish I had the energy to paddle the sea kayak there to investigate further – real pirate stuff!

Days can be spent as leisurely or actively as you want, the overwhelming feeling to sit on your ass and do nothing is something I initially struggled with – being the sort of person who can’t sit still though means Wilson becomes a playground instead. I tire myself out instead of just relaxing; head for a swim, then have a paddle, a walk around the island, a snorkel, work on the blog and then finally it hits me…….the urge to relax, arghhh at last! Slumped in my hammock Bre awakes me for dinner. The siesta is perfect.

Activities abound; sitting on the beach, kayaking around the island, bird watching and of course snorkelling – something Wilson is famous for.

The Wilson Bommie sits around 70m offshore and is well worth the swim from the island. A huge golfball shaped coral reef towering above the seafloor bustling with life; rays, turtles, squid and all manner of fish going about their individual business!

After an hour of snorkelling downwind, taking in everything below me, I’d chilled myself to the core and made for the island, looking up to search for Bre who’d joined me on the kayak. Where had she gone? I spot her in the distance a good 100 metres away, so I swim towards her and after a while look up again. This time she’s further away and not even paddling – I call out but there’s no response. Interesting what’s going on here!??!

After a good 10 minute swim I finally grab onto the handle at the back of the kayak, “What the hell happened Bre?” I ask. She turns round with a face like thunder “I couldn’t paddle this thing into the wind, so I gave up and was about to abandon ship!”

We look at each other and burst out laughing – I love her little stroppy moments! Clambering on board I grab the other paddle and together we make for the island, now a few hundred metres away, powering against the wind and swell we finally make it to the beach and lay on our backs soaking up the sun’s rays and laughing long and hard.

“Bye Bre” becomes the phrase of the day!

Fact about the Black Noddy Tern – it extends its wing in hot sunshine to kill the parasites on its body and then when it gets too hot changes to the other one. It has a white head to stop the brain overheating! Very clever.

Having lived last year in my roof-tent travelling around Africa I felt a huge connection and instant love for the accommodation here on Wilson; zipping up your door, watching the stars from the hammock, feeling the wind and air flowing through the tent, falling asleep to the sound of the ocean and awaking to the sound of the birds – all slow down the pace of life to what it should be, a pleasure not a grind.

If Robinson Crusoe had been lucky enough to wash up on the shores of Wilson Island and found it as we did, he’d still be there now absorbing it. Tom Hanks (in the film Castaway) would have joined him some years later of course – and finding it already named Wilson would have to choose a different name for the volleyball he befriended!

No need to tell the outside world where you are, far from telephone reception and with the ability to just disappear. The world and its problems can wait…..

Of all the experiences and islands I’ve been lucky enough to spend time on over the last few weeks this was the hardest of the them to tear away from. As we stepped onto the boat and pulled away for the shore towards Heron Island, we sat and watched Wilson Island, our spiritual home for the last few days, get gradually smaller – wishing all the time we were just arriving, instead of departing.

End of day location: Heron Island

Distance travelled: 15kms