Pursuing Thrills on Kangaroo Island: Australia’s Galápagos

As I touch down on Kangaroo Island under a cloudy sky, the signs of the recent burns are initially unnoticed. My attention is swiftly captured by the kangaroos. This island, located off Australia’s southwest coast and just a short 35-minute flight from Adelaide, truly lives up to its name; with around 65,000 marsupials roaming, they outnumber humans by about 14 times. Having never encountered a kangaroo in the wild, their presence is overwhelming: they pause mid-feed in a field to watch, lounge by the gently flowing river, and bound off into the seemingly endless horizon.

From the airport, we head toward Cygnet Valley, renowned for its conservation park and the striking red gum trees lining the Cygnet River. With four of us in tow, we decide to swap our van for electric trail bikes to explore the island. Guided by Michael from Exceptional Kangaroo Island, we receive a few tips and take off. Accustomed to navigating bike lanes amidst the traffic of New York City, the open dirt roads here make me feel like a kid again. Switching my bike to “power,” I zoom through the countryside, legs working hard beneath the sprawling gum trees. As the clouds part, sunlight streams through the trunks, illuminating sheep that frolic in the lush pastures to my right.

After thirty minutes, we stop near a serene bend of the Cygnet River to check for koalas in a nearby grove. Michael manages our expectations: “You might see one, but it’s not likely.” We approach quietly, and to my surprise, I find myself speaking: “There.” There it is: lazily munching on a sizable chunk of eucalyptus, this koala resembles a well-aged grandfather who’s indulged a bit too much but still commands respect. We coo and gasp, standing reverently at the base of the tree, marveling at this marsupial, whose survival is jeopardized by the bushfires we’ve all heard about.

Eventually, we hop back on our bikes and ride onward—returning to the car, then to town. In the 25-minute journey to Kingscote, the island’s largest settlement with a population of 1,790, I spot five rainbows. We settle in for dinner at the Odd Plate, a charming restaurant housed in a colonial-style building from 1927, indulging in dishes like buttery kingfish sashimi with spicy black bean paste, chorizo jam with cherry tomatoes and toast, and smoked salmon pastrami paired with pickled fennel. I’m informed that the ocean is just across the street, but by this time, darkness has blanketed the 3,400-square-mile island, Australia’s third-largest. Stepping outside to find the restroom across the courtyard, I can hear the gentle waves lapping at the shore, but the minimal streetlights mean I still can’t see the ocean, the greenery, or the remnants of the burn.

Before visiting Kangaroo Island in June, my knowledge was limited; I knew it was dubbed the “Galápagos” of Australia, home to around 900 Australian sea lions, seals, the world’s tiniest fairy penguins, ancient echidnas (the only egg-laying mammals besides the platypus), dunnarts, and glossy black cockatoos. There are about 8,500 koalas, considered an “invasive” species, and approximately 4,500 permanent residents.

However, just a few years ago, almost half of the island—over half a million acres—was engulfed in flames. On December 21, 2019, lightning sparked fires on the northern coast, and ten days later, it struck Flinders Chase National Park on the southwest coast. Fires ravaged forests, businesses, grazing land, and infrastructure, destroying 87 homes before the area was deemed safe on February 6, 2020. Firefighters from all over Australia joined forces, while Army Reserves distributed water and supplies. Tragically, two lives were lost, along with 60,000 domestic animals and livestock, with the fate of countless wild animals remaining unknown.

Before the fires, Kangaroo Island was rapidly becoming a popular destination, attracting an annual average of 125,000 domestic visitors and 47,000 international travelers from December 2017 to December 2019. During this period, it boasted the highest percentage of international visitors in South Australia, with highlights including “island wildlife,” “unique rock formations,” and “local produce” as major draws.

In the wake of the destruction from the fires, I learned that Kangaroo Island was on the path to recovery—its residents were collectively choosing to shift their focus from past sorrows to future possibilities. This attitude fostered a sense of hope: a belief that visitors would eventually return to this South Australian gem, and when they did, the island would be better than ever. I was there to witness this transformation firsthand.

For the next two days, I’m staying at Hamilton House, a charming four-bedroom bungalow located just minutes from Kingscote on the northeast side of the island. Originally built as a family beach retreat in the 1960s, the home underwent renovations in 2018. It has remained in the Young family for decades, exuding a warm and welcoming ambiance, decorated with a blend of international and local art, Shanghai carpets, and baskets overflowing with cozy knit blankets. As I brew a cup of coffee, I slide open the glass doors to the expansive deck, where the sun rises over the three-mile expanse of Emu Bay, only 400 feet away. I contemplate a swim, but realize Michael will be arriving soon.

Michael, who has been a tour guide with Exceptional Kangaroo Island since 2018, is friendly and quick to chuckle. His previous experience as a primary school teacher shines through; whenever we pose a question, he not only answers but also connects it to related topics we might not have considered. He possesses a wealth of knowledge about the local flora and fauna: As we bump along the dusty roads toward Flinders Chase National Park, he highlights mallees, eucalypt species known for their high concentration of flammable eucalyptus oil. When the bushfires ignited, these trees became the perfect kindling, allowing the fire to spread rapidly.

Forty-five minutes later, we arrive at Cape du Couedic on the island's southwest coast, where the familiar sounds from the previous evening return: the crashing and whipping of the Southern Ocean. This time, I am greeted by its stunning view—the deep blue waves crashing against the rocks, sending sprays of water high into the air. We’ve come to descend to Admirals Arch, a striking geological formation sculpted over thousands of years by erosion. From the parking lot, a wide wooden boardwalk gently descends toward the arch, and as I stroll along, I pause to admire the plants thriving in the area. Noticing my stop, Michael circles back to engage me in conversation, reminding me that not all effects of bushfires are detrimental: for millions of years, they’ve played a vital role in shaping Australia’s ecology, with many plant and animal species having adapted to thrive after such events. Despite 96 percent of the park being scorched in the 2019–2020 fires, signs of recovery are evident, with patches of greenery emerging from the ashen ground.

A chorus of delighted squeals escapes me as I spot baby fur seals blinking sleepily and nestling into the jagged cliff face. While the initial three-quarters of the path to Admirals Arch is accessible, the final section requires climbing stairs to reach a viewing platform at the base of the arch. Gazing through the arch is like peering into an enormous jaw. Adult seals lounge on the rocks, undisturbed by the waves that swirl around them.

Less than ten minutes later, we find ourselves at the entrance to another of the park’s wind-carved wonders: the Remarkable Rocks, a stunning collection of granite boulders that have been sculpted over centuries into an array of mind-bending shapes. During our drive, Michael described these rocks as reminiscent of Dalí's artwork, and it’s easy to understand why: they are colossal, imposing formations that twist and arch into forms resembling elephants, falcons, skulls, and even inverted bowls. Some boulders have been so eroded by the wind that they are partially hollow, while others lean against each other, creating a cathedral-like passage to explore. With the winds gusting today, we carefully navigate around these giants, mindful not to slip or tumble into the depths below. Aside from our small group of five, we enjoy the solitude of this spectacular place.

As we walk along the boardwalk back to our vehicle, I spot a small sign adorned with yellow flags: REGENERATION AREA, it reads. “Please allow the plants to thrive by staying on designated paths.” While vibrant greenery is present, the skeletal remains of trees—black, gray, and ashen—reach skyward. Despite their charred appearance, they possess a haunting beauty.

As part of the tour with Exceptional Kangaroo Island, Michael serves not just as our driver and guide but also as the resident comedian and field chef. In a picnic shelter near the Remarkable Rocks, he lays out a crisp white tablecloth on a table and unveils a delightful spread: creamy gouda with fennel, sharp cheddar, and a block of quince paste—all locally sourced. While we indulge in cheese and nuts, he prepares the main dish—cold poached chicken served with pea greens and sweet onion jam, accompanied by a salad of sprouts, romaine, mushrooms, tomatoes, and peppers. In my effort to support local producers, I select a bottle of Cooper’s pale ale brewed in nearby Adelaide. This has undoubtedly become the most luxurious picnic experience I’ve ever had.

Somewhat astonishingly, the day is only halfway through. After we pack up, we make our way to the site of Baillie Lodges’ renowned Southern Ocean Lodge, which was devastated by the bushfires. Before its destruction, this hotel was Kangaroo Island’s premier luxury lodge, featuring curved guest suites with breathtaking views of the ocean. Thankfully, all guests and staff evacuated safely, although two managers and several senior staff had to take refuge in an on-site bunker, activating sprinklers as they sheltered in place. Reconstruction of the new property commenced in earnest in February 2022, and as we drive toward the site, Michael, who first visited Kangaroo Island a decade ago to work on the Experiences Team at the lodge, visibly struggles with emotion. This is his first visit back since the lodge was completely obliterated.

Despite the destructive and frightening impact of the bushfires on the lodge, its owners are viewing this as a chance to rebuild better than before. The new lodge will consume 25 percent less energy than its predecessor, and diesel usage will be reduced by half. Plans include rainwater harvesting, a hybrid solar-and-battery system, and raised boardwalks to minimize the ecological footprint on coastal plants. Thoughtful landscaping will create a protective buffer around the lodge; on the day of my visit, I noticed juniper and fire-resistant succulents encircling the foundation. While the site was mostly barren, it was easy to envision the suites lining the coastline. For a brief moment, we all stood in silence, gazing east toward Cape Gantheaume, which extends into the crystal-clear sea.

Regeneration, revival, renewal: these were the themes I sought, and now that I am here, they manifest at every turn. Before the sun sets, I will find myself on pristine white-sand beaches near Karatta, exhilarated by the water’s clarity. At Seal Bay, I will quietly witness a male sea lion laboriously emerge from the surf to assert its territory against another male, their bodies colliding with a startling thud. Before I retire for the night, I will dive into a different stretch of frothy surf, relishing the invigorating chill of the Indian Ocean.

If my first day on Kangaroo Island was about witnessing regeneration in action, my second day focuses on learning from experts driving this effort. In contrast to yesterday, the morning is cool and overcast. We head west to meet ecologist Heidi Goffen, who is part of the conservation initiative Kangaroo Island Land for Wildlife. As if scripted, rain begins to pour the moment we step out of the van.

Goffen, however, is in high spirits: Together with the Australian Wildlife Conservancy and private landowners, Land for Wildlife now safeguards over 900 acres of vital habitat for endangered species. They have erected a five-mile-long fence protecting parts of this habitat from feral cats, the leading cause of mammal extinction in Australia. According to the Australian Wildlife Conservancy, the post-fire landscape has favored feral cats, as they hunt more effectively in these conditions. Nationwide, cats kill over one million native mammals, two million reptiles, and one million birds each year. Dunnarts—tiny marsupials that resemble mice—are Australia's most endangered species, with only around 500 remaining, and over 90 percent of their habitat was incinerated. Yet, Goffen notes signs of recovery: increasing numbers of Kangaroo Island echidnas, vulnerable bassian thrushes, near-threatened western whipbirds, vulnerable heath goannas, endangered southern emu-wrens, and endangered southern brown bandicoots have been observed in the protected area.

As we squelch through the mud, Goffen highlights shelter tunnels constructed from chicken wire and shade cloth. There are 18 of these strategically placed across the island, designed to facilitate safe movement for dunnarts (and other “priority species”) while the burned areas recover. Upon reaching a clearing, Goffen kneels to inspect a motion-tracking camera and scrolls through the recorded footage: we exclaim at the sight of a dunnart, but our excitement wanes when a cat saunters past, prompting Goffen to express her disapproval. Her spirits lift again as she explains that her team will analyze the footage and use the cat's markings to track its movements and habits.

During my time on Kangaroo Island (or KI, as the locals affectionately call it), I have encountered many of its iconic species—kangaroos, sea lions, koalas, dunnarts, and bandicoots. However, one creature has remained elusive: the short-beaked echidna, a small animal that resembles a mix between an anteater and a porcupine, and is one of the only living mammals, alongside the platypus, that lays eggs. It holds the title of the world’s oldest mammal. Therefore, I am thrilled that today’s picnic guest is Dr. Peggy Rismiller, often referred to as the “Jane Goodall of echidnas”; she has been studying this unique animal since 1988 and is recognized as the world’s leading expert on it.

Naturally solitary, echidnas are difficult to track, and Rismiller concurs with my (amateur) observation that they are challenging to spot: they employ their sharp claws to burrow swiftly and can traverse several miles daily. They have thrived over millennia, adapting and evolving while responding to environmental cues. Though I do not encounter an echidna during my stay on KI, I find comfort in knowing they inhabit this small island, a true center of renewal.