On a remote Australian outpost at the edge of Southeast Asia, dedicated locals are bent on preserving their unique wilderness for the future.

*Left to right:* A Christmas Island red crab; underwater enthusiasts can explore the island’s surrounding reef by sea scooter. (All photos courtesy of Christmas Island Tourism)

There’s a scratching noise coming from my bathroom at Villa Papaya, making me slightly edgy. But when a small, red leg extends through the wooden window shutters, I laugh, gently dislodging the intruder. My would-be roommate could not be more iconic. It’s a Christmas Island red crab, a creature found nowhere else but on this far-flung speck of land in the eastern Indian Ocean.

Though I’m just 350 kilometers south of Java, Christmas Island is in fact an external territory of Australia, whose nearest mainland lies 1,500 kilometers to the southeast; the only regular flights into its little airport are from Perth, three and a half hours away. First settled as a British possession in the late 19th century and for a time administered from colonial Singapore, the jungle-draped island is currently home to some 1,700 residents, many of whom trace their descent from earlier generations of Chinese and Malay inhabitants (Buddhism and Islam are the most prominent religions). As for its festive name, that was bestowed by the English sea captain William Mynors, who sailed through these uncharted waters on Christmas Day in 1643.

Despite its diminutive size — about 135 square kilometers — Christmas Island harbors an intense concentration of plants and animals, many of which are endemic. “Welcome to our Jurassic wonderland,” says Chris Carr when he picks me up in a minivan for my first day of exploring. As if on cue, three wide-winged frigate birds swoop overhead like a squadron of pterodactyls. A guide for local tour operator Indian Ocean Experiences, Carr explains that his remote island home is the limestone cap of a volcanic seamount that rises more than four kilometers from the ocean floor; over the millennia, various species were carried here by the wind or the waves, and evolved in Galápagos-like isolation. A case in point is the forest-dwelling (and occasionally, bathroom-dwelling) red crab. At the start of the island’s wet season in October or November, millions of these crimson crustaceans scuttle to the rocky coast to mate and release their eggs in the water. Some roads are closed to traffic during this spectacular migration; others feature underpasses and overpasses that funnel the crabs to safety.

Christmas Island is also home to a bevy of avian life, from land birds such as the Christmas imperial pigeon to an assortment of boobies, noddies, and tropicbirds, including the endemic golden bosun, shimmering yellow and white on the wing, elegant tail feathers trailing. As we make our way around the coast, Carr also shares some of the darker aspects of the island’s human settlement, which started with the importation of indentured laborers from China after the discovery of phosphate in the 1880s. The working conditions were horrendous. Thankfully those days are long gone, though phosphate mining remains the lifeblood of the economy, as witnessed by the storage and loading facilities that sit beside a vibrant coral reef at Flying Fish Cove, in the main village of Settlement.

Yet it’s Christmas’s ecotourism potential that impresses me most. The saddle-shaped island is girdled by steep sea cliffs that intermittently give way to hidden beaches, enticing limestone grottos, and blowholes that send jets of water into the air. Offshore, a narrow coral reef teems with dive sites with drop-offs where manta rays, trevally, dolphins, and even whale sharks can be spotted. Back on shore, more than 60 percent of the territory is now protected as a national park, with numerous rainforest trails to explore.

*Left to right:* A nesting site for brown boobies; a Christmas Island sunset.

Preserving this unique wonderland is now paramount for locals. To share some of the challenges they face, Lisa Preston, the owner of Indian Ocean Experiences, brings me to Greta Beach, a pretty little cove on the east coast. Or at least, it would be pretty were it not for all the rubbish. As Preston explains, during the dry season from April to November, currents deliver masses of ocean-borne debris from Southeast Asia, mostly in the form of hard plastics and polystyrene. “I think it’s important for visitors to see this, to understand that a lack of garbage disposal options in other countries has global impacts, it affects us all,” she says as we both stuff rubbish into bags. Turtles nest here, Preston adds. It’s distressing to imagine their babies struggling through humanity’s refuse.

Fortunately, community groups and the local high school are now conducting regular beach cleanups. Other resourceful islanders are turning some of that trash into treasure. Upcycled jewelry and souvenirs are stocked in island boutiques. Community art workshops weave old ropes into colorful baskets, while discarded flip-flops have been given a second life as the soft-fall base for a playground. At a leafy lunch spot in a rehabilitated mining site, even the picnic table is a reuse triumph. It was made by local social enterprise Eco Crab Industries using 150 kilograms of recycled plastic debris, mostly from Greta Beach.

I round out my visit with a stay inside Christmas Island National Park itself, at Swell Lodge, an eco-luxe retreat with just two canvas-sided chalets perched on an isolated bluff above the waves. It’s as scenic as it is sustainable, with rainwater showers, odorless composting toilets, and solar-powered everything. There’s no restaurant, but a personal chef drops by in the evening to whip up a three-course dinner while I watch the shimmering ocean from my wooden deck, chilled bubbly in hand.

Swell Lodge comprises just two low-impact chalets.

Stays at Swell Lodge include daily guided tours. One stop is the Pink House, a Parks Australia reptile breeding facility helmed by Kent Retallick. In 2009, Retallick’s team conducted surveys of endangered endemic lizards, collecting 66 blue-tailed skinks and 43 Lister’s geckos.

“Three months later, when we went back to get more, there were none there,” Retallick says. They were being gobbled up by a quartet of introduced predators: the Asian wolf snake, the giant centipede, yellow crazy ants, and feral cats. Both species have since been declared extinct in the wild.

Peering into the glass enclosures, it’s sobering to realize the survival of these reptiles hangs in the balance right here. Thankfully, the captive breeding program is working, and has been expanded to Sydney’s Taronga Zoo and the Cocos-Keeling Islands, some 900 kilometers farther west.

We also stop by the park’s community-funded seabird rehabilitation facility, where I watch as a volunteer plies two young Abbott’s boobies — an endangered seabird that nests only on Christmas Island — with fish. Like all the conservation initiatives here, it wouldn’t happen without a team of dedicated and passionate locals.

“There’s definitely a groundswell of conservation-minded people on Christmas Island, because you’re literally tripping over the nature,” Preston told me earlier. “We don’t have much manmade infrastructure, but you could have a robber crab tapping at your back door, or seabirds squawking in your backyard. Nature is our whole world.”

An elevated walkway leads to a series of blowholes on the island’s southern coast.

Christmas Presence

GETTING THERE

Virgin Australia runs twice-weekly flights between Christmas Island and Perth. There are also monthly charters from Kuala Lumpur operated by Malaysia Airlines; for details about flights times and other practicalities, visit the Christmas Island Tourism Association website at christmas.net.au.

TOURING

The author’s visit was organized by Australian Wildlife Journeys, a not-for-profit alliance of ethical wildlife tourism operators that includes Indian Ocean Experiences.

WHERE TO STAY

Swell Lodge
Stays at the only lodging inside Christmas Island National Park start at US$1,165 a night, for a minimum of three nights.

Villa Papaya
A one-bedroom self-contained villa with an open-air living room and lush garden hidden in a quieter part of Settlement; from AU$295 a night.

This article originally appeared in the June/July 2024 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“An Island Called Christmas”).

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