The next day, we had a plan. After saying a short farewell to the two Irish girls, we drove down to Cylinder Beach, the most ‘friendly’ of the island’s beaches, off the road just before Point Lookout. It seemed an ideal place for a pair of sea-noobs like us to literally get our feet wet.

I am contradicted (as ever) in that I feel most naturally comfortable and in my element on the deck of a ship, yet I cannot swim to save my life (unless my life can be recovered in less than a minute, because my treading water endurance is on par with my deep space endurance). I am also entirely untrustworthy of the unknown element of the ocean. A particularly unkind observer might declare that I am basically afraid of sharks. But this isn’t quite fair. It’s the Jellyfish that I don’t like.

Anyway, I digress. I only wish to point out that me touching the water wasn’t out of the question, I was just never that enthusiastic on going properly into it. Yet something that day made me change my mind. Perhaps because I hate passing up on things due to negligible, silly worries and risks; it would be most uncharacteristic for me to do so. Whatever it was, we both waded into the crashing waves. I didn’t expect to regret it, and indeed I didn’t; it was immensely enjoyable. The sea was cold; reflecting the time of year more than the weather of the day (which was roasting). But it was welcome and refreshing, bobbing up and down with the waves.

Afterwards, we felt thoroughly revitalised and headed further into Point Lookout to get some Gelato. ‘Gelato’, the Italian ice cream, incidentally stems from the Italian for ‘Frozen’, not ‘gelatine’, a poster informed me. In any case, it was delicious. Lunch was mentioned, thought over, and settled on eventually in Dunwich, back on the other side of the island. This is one strange thing about being on Straddie; being not all that big, you can find yourself driving back and forth to several towns on the same day.

We later saw the tranquil, iodine-coloured Brown Lake. We attempted to see the island’s airfield; a failed venture given that we drove some 15km round trip that resulted in nothing more than a security gate and the kind of disparaging look that only a domestic partner can bestow.

We’d been hoping to catch sight of some of the wildlife and, despite being initially luckless, we were soon rewarded with the sight of two Koalas back at Amity. Lazing about in a tree, they were about the size of cats and about a dozen metres off the ground, so only Lucy’s camera could glimpse a discernible look of them.

We had actually been tracing the shoreline as close as buildings would allow in the hope of seeing the dolphins, that reputedly came shortly before sunset to be fed by assemblies of eager humans. No sooner had we seen the Koala, than I caught a glimpse of a smooth porpoise breaking the surface of the water, heading to the fishing jetty. We hurried back down to the jetty to find several people had gathered, some with various fish and fishmeal, in the hopes of feeding. The dolphins happily obliged, and a mother and infant Bottlenose swam around for some forty minutes or more, the mother gulping all the fish she could and the baby having a lark about seemingly relishing the attention. Dolphins are always a joy to watch, although it must be well over ten years since I’d seen one so close. There were perhaps only a dozen of us sitting and standing by the water, watching them dart and swoop about gracefully.

After they’d left, we read on a bench and watched the sun setting on Amity. The day came to a rather perfect finish with a superb meal at the Italian restaurant La Foccacia; a highly recommended establishment on the road to Point Lookout.

When we returned to Brisbane the following morning, it was with fond memories of a very special place.