Transformation: The grip of Oz

Huge boulders line much of the shoreline. White sand beaches, like those of most of the islands here, are abundant, and the rain forest is thick with possibility. There is only one resort on Bedarra and a few residences on the far side of the island. Accommodations are luxurious, private and unbelievably romantic. We were shown to a villa, one of only 16, with a view to our own beach and the sea beyond. Outside, the mist had turned back into rain, giving us the perfect excuse to do nothing.

Many years ago, when I was in college, I would finish my exams, fly home and sleep for about a week. My mother cooked for me, I’d stay up late watching movies, and no one complained that I wasn’t doing anything. Bedarra made me feel that way again. There was no agenda; just a library filled with books, games and DVDs, remarkable food, excellent wines and an atmosphere so conducive to rest that after an exquisite dinner, we fell into a blissfully sound sleep and didn’t wake up until the first rays of sun filtered gently through the palms outside.

After breakfast we took out a “tinnie” (Australian for a small craft) and lunch to circumnavigate the island. Without stopping, a small motorboat can make its way around Bedarra in about 45 minutes. We, however, had another plan. We were headed to an abandoned resort on the far side of the island. It had been damaged in a cyclone about 13 years before, and the owner had chosen not to rebuild. We’d been told it was interesting, but when we arrived, “interesting” was an understatement.

We had stepped into Jurassic Park. A few bungalows peeked out of the jungle. We made our way to one and carefully entered. It was easy to see that the structure had once been a splendid hideaway.

Ty Sawyer / Islands Magazine

Striking wood floors and intricate architectural details remained, along with a few chair cushions and other small traces of human habitation, but the rain forest had begun to take hold. Vines had found their way in along one of the walls, and parts of the ceiling were beginning to give way to the inevitable takeover by nature. Outside, overgrown pathways led us to an ancient-looking pool, empty and disintegrating. We wandered the resort for hours, expecting at any minute to see a T-rex emerge from the undergrowth.

Suddenly, standing there among the ruins of man’s ambition, I understood the indefinable quality of “Oz” that permeated Australia, the thing Banfield had figured out over 100 years ago. Here in this crumbling oasis, I realized that all the energy and money and time that had been put into building it and running it and making it matter were now just meaningless, abandoned to nature. Life was not about my doing, my succeeding, “the ceaseless struggle for riches.” At last I recognized that it was time to stop worrying so much. Time to stop and watch a sunset and laugh with my children and lie outside on the ground with my husband staring up at the stars. I felt a freedom I had not known for many years. I was, at last, wholeheartedly in the grip of Oz.

MORE FROM DOWN UNDER & BEYOND

Down Under & Beyond Section Front

New Zealand: From Maori culture to Zorbing Top Australian travel experiences Sydney's best on a budget British man begins Australian island dream job Best hotels of Australia and the South Pacific Iconic Sydney pie van celebrates 70 years A journey across Down Under Sexy beaches Down Under Stuck in Tibooburra with the Birdsville blues again Swanky vacation spots Down Under Down Under & Beyond Section Front   Add Down Under & Beyond headlines to your news reader: