It helped that the setting I had in mind was a tropical island in North Queensland. There’s something about remoteness that I think consolidates a community, brings people out of their shell and encourages friendships to become very strong very quickly. Maybe I’m just being overly-sentimental, but the friendships I made in six weeks living on Magnetic Island made such a huge difference to my time in Australia. The send-off party we had when we left was the most surprising event of all – with all sorts of people coming out to wish us bon voyage, and I was eager to get back and see them all.

I arrived at Townsville airport not long before Matt arrived back from his latest stint in the mines. When I moved out of my room on the Island Matt moved in, and I was looking forward to spending some time catching up whilst I stayed with him and Anthony, and Matt’s better half Jenna. I say ‘better half’ because I very quickly found out that Jenna was not only outside the airport waiting to take us to the Island in her ute, but she was also going to be stopping off at the bottle-shop to fill the back with lovely cold beers and as many boxes of wine as we could carry out of the shop!

The next few days were spent wandering between bars along the bay front; starting the days with bloody Mary’s and following them with jug after jug of margaritas in Noodies On The Beach, then after a plate of nachos maybe we’d head down to The Marlin Bar for a couple of jugs of beer and a steak, then back to Noodies. There’s not a lot of choice on that corner of the island, but when you have plenty of sun, good company and the bar owner insists on putting a sombrero on your head to commemorate your commitment to cocktails, you can’t really find fault with life. It’s just a great place to while away the days. There were lots of people I wanted to catch up with, and you could guarantee most of them would wander by at some point. So it was mainly outside these bars that I was able to catch up with old friends and make a few new ones as well.

After a week I went to stay with two other wonderful friends, Ally and Danielle, who came over from England a couple of years ago and have been living on the island ever since. Their house is in an amazing setting. Practically opening out into a currently completely parched lagoon, you can sit on the veranda on one side of the house and see lush rainforest trees and plants in any direction, see a dozen different coloured dragon flies around the pond, the sunbird nesting next to the porch door, hear the koalas grumbling in the trees, and the wallabies bounding across the neighbouring gardens.

A new addition to their family is Juno, a little Jack Russell / Papillon with as much character as he has energy and boldness! I learnt very quickly that if you throw him a ball or a bottle-top you will have a friend for life. And he was incessant! I don’t think there was a single occasion where he tired before my arm and my patience! And next door is Natalie who we partied with plenty of times when we lived together a year ago, and who now lives with, amongst others, Juno’s sister Phoebe. Lots of fun was to be had with the two dogs, especially when splashing them from Natalie’s pool and watching the pair of them try everything possible to get the balls out of the pool short of going in themselves. Strange creatures.

The island is full of other strange animals too, and I suppose I couldn’t leave them out of any discussion about the personalities that draw me to the island. There is my favourite spider on the island: the golden orb weaver. A huge and elegant looking arachnid with bright golden bands around its knees, not particularly venomous, but you would certainly notice its fangs sinking into your skin! There are also a couple of species of bat on the island, the large fruit bats which can be heard swooping over head or screeching in the trees where they roost, and a smaller bat which likes to hide in the eaves of old abandoned buildings such as an old gun entrenchments or powder store up on the hill. Also up there are the always fascinating koalas. It’s not uncommon to see them on the island as it houses the largest wild colony of the animals of an estimated 300. The ones that stand out from this visit where a pair I found sitting half way up a tree, and managed to get very close to. I climbed up the cliff face and sat on a rock so I was head height with the mother and four or five-month old Joey, and spent the best part of an hour just sitting and watching. The baby was fascinated by me, but the mother wasn’t so sure. She would steer him away with a firm hand on his shoulders until he was round the other side of the tree branch, but the cheeky little one would clamber and wriggle and sneak round until he could sit and watch me again. Eventually the mother gave up trying to stop him, and they both sat there nibbling on leaves whilst I watched and enjoyed their sedentary company.

I spent some time with other animals as well, which I hadn’t really considered when I was there before: the island’s horses. Danielle was working on a ranch, so one day I joined her and the other workers on a ride out across the island. I hadn’t been on a horse for many years, and think I was probably less than graceful as I struggled to make the beast move, or stop, or just try and hold on without getting too injured in the process. It was certainly a couple of days before I could sit down comfortably afterwards! I’m sure there must be a better design for a saddle, one which takes the male anatomy into consideration; or maybe I just need to learn how to sit in it properly.

It was a great way to see the island, going down a few tracks I hadn’t seen before and then arriving at the end of the long Horseshoe bay beach and pelting down it clinging on to my horse and desperately trying to steer him away from the trees with low branches he seemed intent on trying to brain me with. After the run, we cooled off in the sea, riding our swimming horses bare-back, listening to them snorting and playing in the surf and dodging the occasionally floating accident.

A couple of nights later we were all back down that end of the beach, sitting round a huge fire – drinking, dancing, fire spinning and celebrating. Day or night, the beach is a great place to relax and so it was with a modicum of inebriation I spent another great night on the island with my friends.

I hope you like the photos I took on this visit to Magnetic Island

I’ve been asked many times why I like Australia so much and why I want to live here, and I struggle to put it in to words every time. The country holds so many attractions to me, the mystery of the vast expanse that I have yet to explore, the friendliness of the people I have met at every town I have visited, the honest and forthright attitude of the society, the fact that it isn’t Britain – there are truly too many reasons to possibly mention.

And now I was back in the country I had been missing I had to decide where to spend those first few weeks. It wasn’t really a decision I had much of a part in – my heart led me straight back to Katoomba in the Blue Mountains where I had spent so many happy weeks throughout my previous year here. It was easy to settle back into life at The Flying Fox Backpackers, chopping wood for the evening fires, chatting to the people visiting from all sorts of places, and exploring the surrounding countryside. There is no other time I feel more content than when walking through the bush, and the Blue Mountains has some exquisite national parks in which to seek out Australian nature.

The area around Katoomba is a great place to get a taste the New South Wales bushland, as the walks are accessible, and the wildlife easy to spot. Around Echo Point there are sulphur crested and black cockatoos, rosellas, and the hugely vocal lyre birds, beautiful rock formations, there were waterfalls after the recent rain, and plenty of skinks, bearded dragons and other lizards basking on the hot rocks.

One day I was exploring a national park further down the mountain at Springwood. I had been walking down a path for a while when I saw a sign indicating the location of a pool someway off over the rocks – so away I scrambled. It may not have been entirely the correct route I was taking, or if it was this certainly wasn’t the path for the unadventurous. I made my way under, round, and through the trees covering the track; hopped from rock to rock, and edged closer to a rock wall I presumed must have held the pool. I was close before too long, and saw a huge lizard on a rock in front of me, so slowly squatting down I levelled the camera and made to take the photo. Then I saw something bright moving in the branches to me left – a snake!

I had seen snakes in Australia before, but never an unidentified one quite so close to my face. It was definitely within striking distance if it was so inclined to have a nip at me. Not so big that it would try and have me for dinner, but in a nation where a spider the size of a pea will still try and have a go at bringing you down – and potentially succeed – I didn’t want to take any chances.

So I froze.

There was not a lot more I could do! But he didn’t seem to be bothered by me, so as I felt more comfortable I started to enjoy his company. I took some photos, I must admit I even chatted to it for a while, and then when he began to slide off into the leaves I also made my decision to move on and resume my search for the pool.

I felt good that the snake was behind me, however pleased I was that I had actually seen it, and quickly put a few more meters between us and climbed over the rock wall. My heart still pumping from the adrenaline, I bounded across a few big boulders and was soon at the pool’s edge looking for yabbies and other small critters. I got close to the surface of the water and started peering in, trying to get glimpses under the rocks at the edge where the pretty little creatures like to hide, and in seconds realised I had moved my face within inches of another snake half hidden in the water! It was the same as the last one, but now I knew they were not only fond of lurking at head-height in trees but also were semi-aquatic hunters as well. His head was high out of the water and his gaze was locked with mine. I slowly backed away and sat atop the boulder I had clambered over, knowing that there was at least one snake behind me and one in front.

I gradually relaxed again, and took the time to take some photos of my new friend and enjoyed the sun and the serenity of the pool for a while. I had been sitting still for so long the wildlife was starting to come out all around me. The crimson rosellas and currawongs were close by in the trees around the pool, there were several skinks sunning themselves on the rocks, and I saw a water dragon scuttle over a boulder next to me and perch across the top. But I wasn’t the only one to spot him. At once I saw a flicker of yellow and green and a third snake dropped out of the tree above me, practically on top of me and sprung for the little water dragon. My heart was in my mouth! I hadn’t seen or heard this one approach, and suddenly it was in my lap and on the hunt! I felt claustrophobic despite the vastness of the area I was sitting in, convinced that every rock concealed a potentially dangerous critter, and knowing I was alone and far from the track. That it when I decided to leave, and ever so cautiously, inspecting every branch several times to ensure it wasn’t an animal before moving underneath them or pushing them aside I made my way back to the trail.

With renewed vigour and a rediscovered feeling of security I continued along the track for a few more hours, chasing yellow-tailed black cockatoos, huge lizards, dragon flies, and all sorts of birds – but at least partly to my relief I didn’t see any more snakes that day.

When I returned to the hostel I spoke to my herpetologist friend who helped me identify the snakes I had spent the majority of the afternoon with; A harmless tree snake that probably couldn’t even puncture my skin if it tried. I can’t wait to see them again, and next time I hope I won’t wet myself!

Pictures from those first few weeks, including plenty of the snakes are in my Blue Mountains gallery

When I arrived in Delhi I was instantly hit by the contrast between this developing country and all the other places I had visited. When I went for a walk through a market on the first afternoon I was amazed by what an assault on the senses the place was. It had been a ride on an auto-rickshaw to get out to the market, which is an experience in itself; the wind and fumes blowing in your face, the thrum of the two-stroke engine under the wooden seat, the reckless abandon with which the drivers swerve and race through the streets. It was exciting and a little terrifying!

When I got to the market I was not prepared for what I saw, heard, and smelt. There was a ramshackle tarpaulin pulled over an area of rickety benches and a few street vendors selling samosas and daal cooked in steaming brass cauldrons. The smells were enough to stir an unknown hunger in me, so I quickly moved over to them breathing the air deeply. That was the first mistake I made. The smells in India can change very quickly with the slightest change in the breeze or the passing of an inconsiderate cow, and it so happened that despite my proximity to the delightful and delicious curried foods, it was a smell of raw sewerage that had had just filled my lungs. Not allowing this to put me off my food though I recovered quickly from the reek and was soon enjoying some lovely samosa and strong chilli dip, though I was careful for the rest of the day not to breathe in too deeply.

The sounds in Delhi were also as incessant and insistent as the changing smells, whether it was packs of dogs barking into the night or the constant honking from the auto-rickshaws and cars. As no vehicle appeared to have any seatbelts, mirrors, or effective brakes, and as the roads had no defined lanes or apparent rules, it was necessary for every person on the road to constantly sound their horns to let others around them know where they were. The colours of New Delhi are as bold and vibrant as anything else in the city, and whether it was the saris of the women, the plants and trees, the birds, spices, or fabrics in the markets – it was definitely a bright and beautiful place to walk around.

The other thing that I was struck by straight away was of course the tastes of India. Whether it was the samosas bought for pennies from a guy in the street and served wrapped in newspaper, a take-away of daal, curried goat, and breads, or a banquet in a world class restaurant – the food was consistently amazing. The flavours were often different to our Western interpretations of the same dishes, as the ingredients were often different. The herbs were very fresh and grown in a different soil and fed with different nutrients, the meats had different flavours, the pulses were types that we don’t get back home, and something like a creamy curried dish wouldn’t for example, be made with cream from a cow. I think that there are very few places I have been outside of India where the curries were half as good as the average I had in those weeks. When I could, I would have something tasty and Indian to eat four or five times a day, and only stopped when I fell foul to the expected ‘Delhi Belly’. I wasn’t surprised. In fact I was pleased that it didn’t afflict me for the first five days! And I would definitely eat everything I had again even knowing what gruelling two-day stomach upset I would have to endure. It was all too delicious!

As I was able to work remotely, I packed my laptop and flew to Delhi where I started work early in the mornings, explored the city in the afternoons, and hung out with Mike and his girlfriend in the evenings. I was able to see quite a lot of the place. I visited many markets, explored lots of parks, and spoke to people from all over India about their impressions and lives. It was exciting to hear about the history of the place and the hopes for the future, but also very upsetting to see how families live in the slums.

The contrast between the rich and the poor is so completely indoctrinated in the society that there is very little that can be done about it without massive national paradigm shifts and state overhauls. It was amazing to hear that many nice apartments came with a servant who might live in a lean-to on the roof or in a tiny box room on a different level of the building. Beggars lined all the streets and junctions, many trying to scrape out a living selling old editions of international magazines or packets of tissues, but with so many competing for attention most of them can’t have had much success.

But you help where you can. You buy a banana from a guy on a street corner, give a few grubby children some change from your pocket, and support the local businesses whatever they might be.

One of the other interesting places I visited in my brief time in India was the Himalayan foothills, and there we stayed in the town of Manali. At around 2000m (6500 ft) above sea level the climate is very different to that of Delhi. I had left heat in the thirties and whilst Manali was very pleasant on most days it did snow a couple of times! Although there was still a lot of evidence that this was India (the occasionally sound of a rickshaw’s horn in the distance, or a pile of litter by the roadside) the mountainous and wooded surrounding area is a truly beautiful place. The immense pine trees fill the air with their woodland aroma, the rushing river is a pleasant contrast from the rushing cars in the city, and the remote hillside temples are something quite different from the mighty structures in Delhi. Some of the temples and forts are incredibly ancient and give insight into a time where this area was a significant seat of power. The animals were much more varied and exotic, with monkeys and brightly coloured birds in the trees, vultures, kites and eagles soaring in the air above, and even the occasional sheep grazing on the side of a road.

The many shrines we visited were strewn with items meant to encourage the Gods to bring them success in their daily lives: tridents for fishing, tin houses for safety in their homes, rams skulls for the health of their livestock, and offerings of puffed rice and incense could be bought and immediately discarded in many of them. The people were friendly, the temples were humbling, the views were breathtaking, the food was wonderful, the fires were warm at night, and the weed was everywhere. It was a place I will definitely go back to.

Have a look at my pictures from Delhi or from the Himalayas in the photos section of his site.