HOW IT ALL BEGAN

I come from Scandinavia and until January 2006 my acquaintance with Australia was limited to Sydney, where I had been a few times during my annual holiday to visit a friend of mine who married an Aussie in the 1970s.

On January 4, 2006 I arrived to Australia with my brand new Australian husband.  We didn’t have a home since for a couple of years my husband had been a gypsy travelling around in his motorhome.

So there we were, the two of us plus a couple of oversized suitcases plus four respectable sized cartons we had sent to my friend in Sydney in advance of our arrival to Australia. Travelling a bit too cramped for comfort in the motorhome in full Summer on Newell Highway, wandering here and there, blowing a tyre in the heat, looking for that special place – home.

One night, unable to sleep, my husband was surfing the internet and came across the name Russell Island, Queensland, one of the Southern Moreton Bay Islands. In the morning we made a beeline to Redland Bay. Lucky for us there was space on the next vehicular barge and off we went. The sun was shining hot, the sky was the bluest blue, it was a glorious day on water, and I could swear even the dugong we sighted was smiling. The barge weaved its way from Redland Bay to Karragarra to Macleay to Lamb and finally to Russell Island.

We drove off the barge, parked the motorhome and proceeded on foot to explore the immediate vicinity of the jetty.  We found a nice little cafe, with a view of the bay, next door was pharmacy, doctor’s office and pathology and of course an obligatory real estate agent,  of which we could see several others while walking towards the “centre”.

The atmosphere of the island captivated us, people were friendly and laid back and life – and roads – seemed so unhurried after the hustle and bustle of the mainland.  The small community had the basics: community services office, op-shop, grocery shop, hairdresser, take-away, bottle shop, service station, hardware, bakery, library, nursery, fire station, emergency services, state school and many other things.  All this we either saw ourselves or were told while looking at available houses.

And then it happened – we saw the house – Our House – and that was it. Contrary to all we had said we wanted: we wanted a small house – this one was big, we definitely did not want stairs – this house had two storeys. We tried to walk away, went back to the mainland, looked at other places, other houses, but everything had something wrong:  the windows were too small or too big, the garden was too small or too big, the house was facing the wrong way or if it was the right way it was the wrong colour.  We were hooked.

Now we live in a lovely big house with stairs and a big balcony overlooking the calm waters of Canaipa Passage. We enjoy our hopeful Kookaburras, who come in threes and fours to sit on the railing of  the balcony to chat away the afternoon with a sharp eye for a little snack and a friendly laugh at the peculiarities of human nature.  And with the dark of the evening come the curlews crying, swift careful shadows, freezing in place at the first strange sound or movement. So beautiful and ancient, just like the dugongs and the turtles in the bay.

Oh yes, we also said we would just be retired – now we run a Bed & Breakfast, in a semi-retired way it’s true, but we do it properly with a permit.