Lord Howe Island: Nina Myskow discovers a bite-sized gem in New South Wales

By NINA MYSKOW

Dinner is served: Nina Myskow takes a dip with the kingfish at Neds beach


A blood-curdling scream rang out, so piercing that it startled the handful of people dotted some distance away on the vast beach. It frightened me, I can tell you, and I was the one making the noise as I struggled out of the water as fast as I could.

It was all my own fault. I had been standing knee-deep in the tropical waters off Neds Beach, a deserted golden bay in the north of Lord Howe Island, with slices of bread in my hand, waiting to feed the fish.

I wasn't quite sure which fish, but it was one of the experiences that had been suggested so I was giving it a go. Years before, I'd hand-fed dolphins off the west coast of Australia, a magical and thrilling experience, so feeding fish on this island off the east coast sounded wonderful.

This was not part of an organised trip - more of a casual 'Oh, and if you go to Neds Beach, take some bread and the fish will come to you.' On the Unesco World Heritage list, and described as the last paradise on Earth, the island is surrounded by pristine, crystal-clear water which is home to more than 500 species of fish, so no shortage of hungry mouths.

And sure enough, as I stood there, lovely silvery fish started swimming around my legs. Then larger dark ones, darting around me, almost took the bread from my hand. It was enchanting. And as larger, foot-long black kingfish started to arrive, Grant, my Other Half standing ankle-deep, got out his camera. Then vanity kicked in; I remembered I looked very different from the bikini-clad beauty pictured doing the same thing in the brochure. There was no way I wanted my thighs captured for posterity, never mind my posterior. 'Hang on,' I said. 'Wait! I'll just go a bit further out.'

As I headed out, the fish came with me, and were joined by others. The deeper I got, the bigger the fish and the more of them: great big firm kingfish, swirling around me, eager for the bread. Three feet long. 'Wow!' Grant said excitedly. 'That's great. Hold the bread out and look towards me.'


Back to nature: The flightless woodhen is unique to the island


Now almost waist-deep, I was surrounded by a seething mass of vast fish, coming straight at me, with their massive jaws wide open. 'I'm not so sure about this,' I shouted, panicking. I was nearly out of bread. 'They're very big.' 'Don't be silly,' he called back. 'Smile back at me again.'

It was at this point that one bit me on the bottom. Yes, I know, who could blame it? Hard to miss. I screamed and thrashed my way to the shore, where thankfully I discovered that only my pride had been injured. The nip hadn't even ripped my swimmers. But did Other Half have to laugh? You bet.

This trip to Lord Howe had been planned for him, to recapture a cherished childhood holiday. Lord Howe is a secret place, 435 miles north-east of Sydney and less than a two-hour flight. It is technically part of New South Wales but until we went there, other than Grant I had never met an Australian who has visited.

'I believe it's lovely,' they say. 'I've always wanted to go.'
You're lucky if you can. The crescent-shaped island is just seven miles long and less than two wide, bounded by a coral reef that forms a turquoise lagoon. Tethered at the southern end are two towering peaks, Gower and Lidgbird. The eroded remnants of a large volcano, lush forests, vast banyan trees and abundant bird, plant and marine life make it a magnet for nature-lovers. With a population of just over 300, the number of visitors is restricted by law to 400 at any time.

But Grant's mum Joy - aptly named - managed to visit in 1967 with two kids and a couple of bottles of Johnnie Walker in her case (the off-licence was open for an hour a day). They spent a week in a guesthouse. Which is how I knew about the wonderful wildlife, the fact that there were no cars, and that Grant and Joy had climbed Mount Gower.

Three years after she died, it seemed fitting that we should make a trip there and he should climb the mountain again. I even thought I might join him. Until I saw it, a massive 2,870ft. It was going to be no stroll in the park.

Back in 1967, they had arrived in style, on a Catalina flying boat that landed in the lagoon. These days it's a 32-seater Dash 8.

Lord Howe is almost forgotten by time. Of course there are cars now, with a 15mph speed limit - but only six for hire - and most people cycle or walk. There is no mobile reception (hooray!), no cashpoints and the off-licence still opens for only a few hours a day, and not on Sundays. There are no nightclubs and no celebs. The closest you'll get is counting the shooting stars in the ink-black, non-polluted southern sky.

To quote the T-shirt: No mobile phones, no crowds, no keys, no watches, no worries. Also no snakes, but plenty of spiders, plus the flightless woodhen, unique to the island, which wanders about unconcerned. It is a lovers' hideaway-too. There are excellent restaurants, with a free lift home if necessary. No camping is allowed, and you can do the luxury spa thing at Capella Lodge or Arajilla Retreat. At Pinetrees, the Boatshed bar overlooks the lagoon, with the mountains as a backdrop.

We were in self-catering luxury in Earl's Anchorage, a private bungalow, all wood decking and stunning architecture, set in a kentia palm plantation. It was a bit like being in a giant version of the palm section in Ikea. All those palms in offices around the world? They originate from Lord Howe and are second only to tourism as far as the economy is concerned.


Perfect peace: Mount Gower and its companion Mount Lidgbird loom over a deserted beach


We lazed, walked, relaxed, swam and read in utter peace. From the other end of the island, Mt Gower loomed. What could Joy have been thinking? It looked horrendous.

But despite having climbed nothing more strenuous than our stairs in London, Grant booked a climb with a guide - you can't do it solo - and set off in darkness at 5am. I fretted, I worried, I agonised. But eight hours, eight miles and 2,870ft later, there he was, on the beach as I pulled in from a glass-bottomed boat trip.

The guide had told him to get straight into the water to soothe his aching leg muscles.

If I had been terrified, he told me he had felt ten times worse. There were sheer drops, much dangling off ropes, hand-over-fist edging along ledges, times he thought he could never go on, or get back. But he did it. He had done it for Joy. He was utterly exhausted and totally exhilarated.

That night, having a wonderful dinner at Arajilla, we toasted Joy in good Aussie sauvignon. I too had my little triumph, a beautiful piece of kingfish, grilled to perfection. I savoured every bite.

Don't get me wrong. I am entirely grateful to the fish. When I saw the shots of me in the water, I made a vow to climb my own mountain. I've lost a stone since then.
Getting there

For information on Earl's Anchorage visit www.earlsanchorage.com. Bungalows sleeping two start at £240 per night, including airport transfers. Qantas (www. qantas.com.au) flies from Heathrow to Sydney and on to Lord Howe Island from £1,260 return. For further information on holidays in Australia, visit www.australia. com. Inclusive packages are available through Discover the World (01737 218800, www.discovertheworld.co.uk)


source: dailymail