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“Oh my God! Over there! I see one!” I exclaimed. “That’s a log,” said John, as he steered the boat away from the mainland. Embarrassment flooded my body and colour filled my cheeks. My inner ‘city-slicker’ was clearly showing. “On that note,” Brock interjected, “what is the deal with crocodiles?” “Be vigilant. Don’t go in the water. Stay away from the shore at night. It’s basic shit,” John, our no-nonsense, leather-skinned boat driver replied bluntly. Sweating profusely in the humid air, memorised track notes that specified creek crossings and long beach-treks swirling around my head, I was far from reassured. Brock and I exchanged incredulous looks and laughed. All thoughts of crocodiles vanished when I lay my eyes upon it: Hinchinbrook Island. It’s the closest thing I’d seen to the fjords of Norway - grey, rocky cliffs, dropping into the deep blue sea and topped with stretching green planes, eventually shifting into Jurassic rainforest lined beaches and coral reefs. It was my 21st birthday gift to myself - a five day, 32km hike along the Thorsborne Trail. Why? I, Zoe, wanted to stand at the top of Zoe Falls and look out over Zoe Bay. Had I hiked before? Nope. Was I going to let that stop me? Hell, no! “I left the track notes on the mainland,” I groaned, as we stood on the beach, with boots and backpacks ready, John long gone. My companions had faith in my memory, our spirits remained high and we set off. The adventure had only just begun. Leaving the beach, we trekked through dense Aussie bushland, climbed to the top of Nina’s Peak, admired the 360 degree view of the island, and descended to our first camp by mid-afternoon: Nina’s Bay. Tents pitched, with a prime view of the beach, it was time to explore - and more importantly, to find a fresh water source. With the last of our water supply reserved our dehydrated dinners, the situation felt dire. What we found was a dried up inlet at one end of the bay and a crocodile lagoon at the other. Tired, track-note-less, dehydrated and desperate for a swim, all we could do was look up… to see an abundance of young, green coconuts. Hallelujah! Thankfully, on our second day, after hiking along steep ridges and long beach stretches, we found a stony freshwater creek. Water supply replenished and thirst quenched, we immersed ourselves in the only pool big enough to fit us. My tent set up only 2 crocodile-lengths away from the shoreline, I started feeling anxious. Being on an uninhabited, Jurassic-like island, the threat of giant reptilian carnivores felt all too real. I had Brock construct a fort out of large rocks and logs to set my mind at ease. After 10.5km of hiking, we encountered our arch nemesis on the shell scattered shores of Zoe Bay - not crocodiles, but swarms of March flies which seemed to attack more vigorously the hotter and more flustered you felt. We ran across the black and white sand and through the forest to escape. Steering away from yet another crocodile warning sign, we finally happened upon the irresistibly iridescent turquoise pool at the base of Zoe Falls. Tropical perch fish watched us expectantly as we cooled off in the clear, blue water. We soon discovered that our enemy’s enemy was our friend, as we swatted the March flies towards the water’s surface for the perch to eat in an oddly wholesome and entertaining symbiotic game. As the sun descended towards the horizon, I scaled the cliff to reach the natural infinity pools at the top of Zoe Falls. Exhilaration and pride rushed over me as I looked out over the breath-taking Zoe Bay. I'd made it. Two days later, after hiking through marshes, rainforest, dry bush, traversing long beaches, clifftop plains, rocky ridge trails, crossing (potentially) crocodile infested creeks, combating swarms of March flies and chasing waterfalls, John’s aluminium boat was like a mirage on the horizon. This venture into the unknown had been stunning, challenging, awe-inspiring and unforgettable. Though, I was secretly disappointed that I didn’t see a crocodile.