Twitching her body and lifting up her claws, the female red crab releases her fertilised eggs into the sea.
It is 4:00 am and still dark on the beach at Flying Fish Cove. I keep moving my feet to avoid any of the hundreds of crabs touching me; they do creep me out a bit. I think it is the way they move; scuttling side to side, with their claws reaching out and the larger pincers grabbing. There is a little bit of menace about them.
I am lucky to be here at the time of the migration. The crabs have been moving in small numbers to the beach in the early mornings . If the rains come then there is a mass migration, all in one go, with millions of crabs moving from their jungle burrows, herded by the road guards over the crab bridge or under one of the road tunnels, down to the sea to mate and release the eggs. To be honest, the number of crabs on the beach are quite enough for me and to think people are wearing flip flops!
Seeing the large number of crabs crawling back across the road, climbing up walls and wire fencing and occupying shoes left out by accident makes me shudder.
We stand, leaning on the railing, overlooking the blowholes and the jagged limestone rocks that line the shore at this point. Chris, the island’s taxi driver, who picked me up from the airport, is taking me on a tour of the island. He has a great passion for the both the wildlife and the history. It is great to listen to him and to engage in conversation. We visit a couple of beaches, an amazing cave that you could swim through if the tide was low and meet my first Robber crab. We appreciate the views of the island from the different highpoints and watch the Golden Bosun (a bird native to the island ) soar in the air currents.
I also have time to explore a little on my own, viewing the local buildings, taking photos of the crabs from various angles and enjoying relaxing by the beach; the breeze there making it a bit cooler.
The people on the island are so helpful and friendly. The guy at the pub helps me find local grocery stores that are open on a Sunday . The ladies at the bank patiently assist me through the long winded process of getting some money out (the only ATM on the island is broken). The lady from the tourist centre, who is at the airport when I arrive, phones the taxi for me, and her colleague, at the office, gives me useful information on the island.
The only thing that isn’t so great and maybe affects the way I see the island is my accommodation. It is interesting how much the place you are staying impacts on how you feel. Let’s just say sharing the ‘outback’ style tinned roof toilet with a couple of lizards and meeting a huge cockroach in the middle of the night did not help to change this view. Luckily the cockroach, after a severe talking to, has the good sense to squeeze back down through the drain cover and leave me alone.
So what are my thoughts on Christmas Island. Living there is like going back 20 years, getting used to waiting for the technology we expect to be immediate and take for granted. It is a place where you can leave your house unlocked and not worry; where you know everyone around you, and are able to take life more slowly. The island itself is a beautiful place, with stunning trees, secluded beaches, a jungle interior and of course the crabs. It is slightly marred by the scars and machinery of the phosphate industry, which provides the island with its income. The main conveyor belt and accompanying sheds cut right through the settlement area. There is probably some way to go in the tourist industry on the island, with more information and better services being needed. As to whether this would spoil the island as it is now, I don’t know.
I am glad that I went. and I was very lucky to witness the crab migration. I think the island deserves another visit, although when that would be I don’t know. There is lots of the world left to see.
Journeys with my pencil 