The Thunder From Down Under

Best known as the god of thunder, there’s so much more to Chris Hemsworth than those ridiculous biceps

- Mike Christensen

3.24am

It’s pitch black and I’m standing in the middle of nowhere, six minutes early. The dicey maxibus ride I’ve just endured through the winding roads of Byron Bay’s hinterland hasn’t helped. Though, requesting a taxi at 3am to be dropped off in God knows where – what did I expect?

Suddenly a rumble – an engine in the distance. Immediately I’m relieved that I must be in the right place, as who else would be passing through here at 3.30am?

‘Hi mate, jump in!’

Fifteen seconds later, we arrive, and what felt like the middle of nowhere, was in fact the bottom of Chris Hemsworth’s driveway.

‘Jump out, we’re taking Chris’ car,’ says Hemsworth’s assistant.

Chris Hemsworth is standing all majestic in the kitchen, in the middle of a long, deep stretch.

He sees us through the darkness and waves as he walks towards the front door. ‘Mate, good to see you,’ he offers, leaning in for a man-hug. ‘How’s your daughter?’

Hugging it out, I’m struck by two things – his memory to recall I have a daughter (we met once, nine months ago) and his arms. The 692 000 Google search results for ‘Chris Hemsworth arms’ are entirely validated.

‘All set?’ asks the assistant. We both nod and jump in a 4x4. Adventure, here we come – Hemsworth the designated driver.

Two days earlier, after weeks of back and forth about what, when and where best to conduct this interview, I received the following directive: ‘Chris would like to hike up Mount Warning. If you could meet at this address at 3.30am on Friday that would be great. Please bring a head torch, sturdy footwear, water and some snacks.’