Appropriately shaped like an Aussie boomerang, thrown and not returned, Christmas Island flounders out in the swells of the Indian Ocean much closer to the tropics of Indonesia’s Java than the edges of the Northern Territories and Western Oz. The land itself pokes just 300 meters above the sea; the flat-topped tip of an underwater volcano that’s been relatively untrodden since it was discovered back in the 1600s. Today, visitors come to be wowed by the extreme biodiversity and curiosity of its backcountry. There are spots like the Dales, trickling amidst the undergrowth of dense rainforest and carving out plateau caves where blue crabs cling to the rocks. There are the sheer-cut cliffs with their squawking red-footed boobies, not to mention the mind-boggling phenomena of the great red crab migration each year on the beaches below. Secluded sands like West White are a favourite of Christmas Island tour guides too, while Lily Beach is washed by great rollers and Flying Fish Cove is a quaint conglomeration of diving jetties, fishing spots and islander cottages.