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Set amid the vast blue haze of the Indian Ocean, Christmas Island is a unique tropical mix of Chinese, Malay and European cultures.
Its incense-scented Buddhist temples, bright green mosque and Malay kampong or village make the Australian-administered speck of rock the least Australian place imaginable. But the jungle-clad island, which lies closer to Java than Australia, fears that a decision this month by politicians in faraway Canberra could spell the end of its distinctive way of life.
The federal Government announced a ban on new phosphate mining, the industry which has been the cornerstone of the island's economy since it was incorporated into the British Empire in 1888.
Environment Minister Malcolm Turnbull said new mining would put "an unacceptable impact" on threatened species, including the rare abbott's booby, the frigate bird and the pipistrelle bat.
The ban was hailed as a victory by conservationists, who were appalled at plans by the Christmas Island Phosphate Co to bulldoze pristine rainforest to extract the rich deposits of phosphate below.
The new mine would have killed up to 1.5 million of the 60 million red land crabs believed to inhabit the forest floor. Each year the crabs go into a breeding frenzy, turning roads and beaches into a crimson carpet as they scuttle to the sea, inspiring Sir David Attenborough to call the island the "kingdom of the crabs".
The end of mining will also enhance Christmas Island's boast to be the Galapagos of the Indian Ocean, for the fearless boobies, tropic birds and robber crabs - the world's largest invertebrate - which inhabit its cliffs and forests.
But the ruling has dismayed many of the 1200 islanders, who fear a mass exodus as 140 mine employees, their families and dozens of dependent businesses are forced to leave in search of jobs.
"The economy of the island is the mine - there's nothing else," said Gordon Thomson, head of the miners union. "I believe up to half the island will leave - there'll be nothing to keep them here. The community will slowly disintegrate."
The descendants of indentured labourers imported in the 19th century by the British, ethnic Chinese and Malays make up 80 per cent of the population. They have either Australian passports or the right to permanent residency, and many have already moved to Perth, 2700km to the southeast.
A few may find jobs at the highly controversial, multimillion-dollar refugee detention centre the federal Government is building on the island to stop asylum seekers reaching Australian soil. Dubbed by islanders the "Dark Side" and capable of holding up to 800 refugees, it is due to open by the end of the year.
Although phosphate mining turns virgin rainforest into a virtual moonscape where nothing but scrub will grow, the pro-mining lobby argues that two-thirds of Christmas Island is already protected as national park. Sacrificing 270 more hectares - around 2 per cent of the island - is justified if it saves jobs, they argue.
"Any time you chop down a tree, that's a big decision," said mine manager Alfred Chong, rattling down a rough dirt road in a four-wheel-drive vehicle. "But you have to weigh the environmental impact with the social impact. A lot of the older workers don't even speak English - they won't get new jobs in Australia."
The mining ban has sharply divided Christmas Island, with many islanders supporting Canberra's decision and hoping to promote the tiny territory as an eco-tourist destination.
"This is the future for Christmas, not mining," said Linda Cash, from the island's tourism authority, emerging from the sea after a scuba dive over corals and clouds of tropical fish.
"We can be a niche tourism market, bringing in people from all over the world to see the crabs, the birds and our amazing marine life, like whale sharks. From a tourism point of view, cutting down rainforest is a death wish."
Despite the expense of getting to the island - a return flight from Perth can cost as much as A$1800 ($2030), and from Sydney up to A$2800 ($3156) - others have even more grandiose plans.
Russell Paine, president of the chamber of commerce, envisages a private hospital offering plastic surgery to wealthy Asians from Malaysia and Indonesia.
"We'd be able to offer nips and tucks, knee jobs and boob jobs for the idle rich of Asia," he said. "Cut'em up here, then send them to the Cocos Islands [a neighbouring Australian territory] to let them recuperate on the beach."
But the history of the island is littered with ventures which initially promised economic salvation then ultimately failed, including a casino, a Miss Asia pageant, a South Korean-run film studio and a satellite launching pad - still to be built despite great fanfare in the early 1990s.
Nearly 50 years after Christmas Island passed from the British Commonwealth to Australia, there are still lingering reminders of the colonial era.
Until recently the Administrator - the Queen's representative - lived in a grand mansion overlooking the Malay kampong and picturesque Flying Fish Cove.
The house - now empty - still bears a wooden plaque commemorating the act of possession by the commander of HMS Imperieuse, in the name of "Her Most Gracious Majesty Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, Empress of India" in June 1888.
Nearby is a gun emplacement and a plaque commemorating the murders of five British soldiers, who were killed by Indian troops in a mini-mutiny which preceded the Japanese seizure of the island in World War II.
The present Administrator, a former politician and mayor from Victoria, has dispensed with the trappings of empire.
Neil Lucas believes the future of this Australian outpost on the edge of Asia lies in a new age of eco-tourism, rather than the heavy extractive industry of the past.
"We have a natural wonderland in marine and terrestrial life which really makes us the Galapagos of the Indian Ocean. The challenge is to get that message over to people. This is one of the last frontiers of Australia."
