Sienna Writes

This was my third trip to Kangaroo Island.

The first time, we took our French au pair, because we wanted to show her somewhere uniquely Australian. We stayed in an Airbnb, squeezed as much sightseeing as we possibly could into a few days, and spent most of the trip trying to see everything.

The second time was for school camp. We stayed in dormitories, climbed over rocks, slid down giant sand dunes, and somehow managed to get sand absolutely everywhere.

So, when Mum said she was heading back to Kangaroo Island for work and asked if I’d like to come along, I wasn’t exactly counting down the days.

I’d already been twice.

I thought I knew Kangaroo Island.

Turns out, I didn’t.

Like every road trip, ours started with snacks.

We left home, picked up Mum’s friend on the way, stopped at Aldinga for what were apparently essential bakery supplies, and eventually made our way to Cape Jervis.

There really isn’t much to do while you’re waiting for the ferry.

I took a travel sickness tablet because I remembered the crossing from previous trips and wasn’t taking any chances. While we waited, we bumped into someone Mum knew, which helped pass the time.

The ferry itself…

Let’s just say I was very grateful I’d taken the tablet.

When we arrived on the island, we were picked up and driven to where we were staying.

Sea Dragon.

I don’t think I was prepared for just how beautiful it would be.

Sea Dragon doesn’t really feel like accommodation. It feels like someone has quietly handed you the keys to your own little corner of Kangaroo Island.

Perched above rugged coastline, surrounded by bushland and wildlife, it somehow manages to feel luxurious without taking anything away from the landscape around it. The huge windows make it feel as though the ocean is part of the room, and every time I looked outside there seemed to be another incredible view waiting.

You don’t get the feeling that nature has been interrupted.

You feel like you’ve simply been invited into it.

That afternoon we wandered down towards the lighthouse and discovered a secluded little beach tucked beneath the cliffs.

It felt almost secret.

The sort of place you hope never becomes crowded because part of its magic comes from believing you’ve somehow found it yourself.

Dinner that night was incredible.

Fresh local produce, seafood, beautiful desserts, and one of those meals where everything somehow tastes better because you’ve spent the afternoon breathing in salty sea air. And did I say there was unlimted sparkling apple juice?

Everyone else settled into long conversations about work, life and all the wonderfully adult things that adults seem to enjoy talking about.

I tried to keep up.

I really did.

But I was tired.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be there. I was enjoying myself. My brain had simply reached the point where it needed somewhere quieter to exist for a little while.

Thankfully, retreating wasn’t exactly a hardship.

I escaped back to our room, picked up one of the many books I had optimistically packed, curled up beside the window and looked out across the spectacular coastline as the sun slowly disappeared over the ocean.

The funny thing is, I don’t think I even read very much.

Every few pages I’d find myself looking back out at the view instead.

The ocean somehow became part of the story.

It occurred to me then that maybe I’d packed all those books for the wrong reason.

Not because I thought I’d read them all.

Because books have always been where I go to recharge.

Sometimes I need silence.

Sometimes I need music.

This time, I just needed an unread paperback and a spectacular view.

The next morning, after a breakfast that somehow tasted even better because of the view, we headed off to explore the island.

Of course we saw kangaroos.

You almost expect that on Kangaroo Island.

But we also saw sea lions (and was told the difference between seals), and somehow seeing them in the wild felt completely different to seeing animals anywhere else.

They weren’t performing for visitors.

They weren’t interested in us at all.

We were simply guests in their home.

As we travelled around the island, we also heard the stories that don’t usually make it into holiday brochures.

The bushfires.

The wildlife that was lost.

The people who rebuilt.

It’s impossible not to admire how resilient the island and its community have been.

That resilience seems to show itself in another way too.

Every person we met was kind.

Not customer-service kind.

Just… genuinely welcoming.

It made me wonder whether Kangaroo Island creates a different pace in people.

Maybe when you’re surrounded by that much nature every day, life naturally slows down.

Maybe people have more time for each other.

Or maybe I was simply paying more attention this time.

When it was time to head home, I realised something that felt a little embarrassing.

It had taken me three visits to properly appreciate Kangaroo Island.

The first trip was about showing our French au pair somewhere uniquely Australian.

The second was about school camp adventures and sliding down enormous sand dunes.

This trip was quieter.

I noticed the wildlife.

I noticed the coastline.

I noticed the people.

Most of all, I noticed how differently I experienced a place I’d already visited twice before.

I don’t think Kangaroo Island changed.

I think I did.

Maybe that’s one of the nicest things about travelling.

Sometimes you don’t discover somewhere new.

Sometimes you discover a new way of seeing somewhere you’ve already been.