It’s 8.50 on a Tuesday morning and I hear the euphoric singing before I see her. A whir of green school uniform and pink bicycle, she races to beat the first bell, pedalling furiously in her bare feet – past the seaside paddocks, the turquoise bay and its ribbon of ivory sand, and the dense canopy of kentia palms hugging the road. The cloud-shrouded peaks of Mount Gower and Mount Lidgbird tower ahead of us both.

The schoolgirl, one of just 380 residents on Lord Howe Island, fades to a dot in the distance, leaving me wondering: Does growing up in a place of such extreme beauty make you oblivious to its specialness? I’ve been here only 48 hours, and already I feel like I’m part of a David Attenborough documentary.