No running water, no escape, but this trip became my idea of paradise

My mate “Burkey” had a brilliant idea: disposable cutlery. Also, disposable plates. He would have been keen to bring disposable tents if such things existed.

The idea was to do as little work as possible, and that included washing up. We’re talking about a bunch of 16-year-olds on a school excursion here. No one is keen to scrub knives and forks and plates.

So Burkey was put in charge of procurement, and sure enough, he turned up on North West Island with a bunch of disposable utensils, which we duly used once each and then chucked in the bin, before sitting around the campsite marvelling at our brilliance while the other groups washed up.

The barge and the tip of North West Island, Queensland.Credit: Alamy

The year was 1996, and in our defence, sustainability wasn’t yet a thing that anyone talked about. Convenience, however, was something, which is why we came out to an unspoilt coral island off the Queensland coast with a bag of plastic knives and forks.

Looking back, I can’t believe we did this. The trip, that is – not the cutlery.

Yet we did a full class excursion to North West Island, a coral cay on the Great Barrier Reef accessible only by private vessel or barge, an island with no running water, no facilities save a block of long-drop toilets, and no escape until the barge came back.

We spent a week out there, something like 50 or 60 of us, including teachers and a few parents roped in to help. We cooked our own meals, slept in basic tents, spent days conducting “science” experiments and wandered the reef shelf at low tide looking for interesting sea life caught in the rock pools.

Experiences, like my field trip to North West Island, become your idea of paradise in adult life.Credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto

I don’t remember loving it as much as I should have, even with Burkey’s brilliant plan. I was an angsty 16-year-old nursing a massive crush on a girl who would never reciprocate, obsessed with my position in the year 12 social hierarchy, trying to be cool without appearing to try to be cool.

I never found the time to realise the brilliance and the beauty of a trip like that. The way Australia offers these opportunities to do things that few other people ever do. To disappear to a coral island, to have the whole thing to yourself, to snorkel or dive on pristine reef, to sleep at night with the sound of wind through the pisonia trees, and shearwaters making a nuisance of themselves.

It’s funny the way the things you’re told to do as a kid – the family holidays and school excursions that feel like chores, the experiences you drag yourself along to because you don’t have a choice – become your idea of paradise in adult life. Especially holidays in Australia.

We used to go camping in Queensland when I was a kid. We’d pack up the station wagon and head out to Carnarvon Gorge or Eungella, to Rainbow Beach or Agnes Water.

We’d go for walks through the national park, swim in waterholes or at the beach, cook up food on our little gas burner stove, chase off various native wildlife that tried to steal our food.

Dramatic hues of the seaside cliffs at Rainbow Beach, a popular camping spot.Credit: Tourism and Events Queensland

None of this felt special at the time, though really it was. If your school is doing it, if your parents are doing it, it can’t be that great, right? And sure enough, as soon as I finished year 12, I left Australia to have proper adventures overseas.

But life takes you full circle. Now, hilariously, I have my own kids and can’t wait to take them on those exact Australian adventures. I want to show them that sometimes the simplest, cheapest holidays are the best.

I’ve got the urge to camp in Australian national parks, to show my little guys the beauty of simplicity, the wonder of staring at a billion stars, the unique brilliance of Australian fauna and flora. I can’t wait to take them out to the reef, as soon as they can swim well enough to experience it.

You can still do that trip to North West Island. There’s still nothing there, save for the toilet blocks and the shearwaters. There’s still no way to get there except have a boat of your own, or charter a barge from Gladstone or Yeppoon.

There are easier islands to visit in that region. Heron Island is very close, and it’s incredible. Lady Elliot is a little further south, and it has its own airstrip.

Regardless, this is a part of the world we shouldn’t take for granted just because it’s close by, or just because you might find a bunch of ungrateful schoolkids there every now and then, eating their food with disposable cutlery.