After a night out with Julian and Lydia, last and hot day in Melbourne with Lydia. Lunch on her terrace.

Beautiful wild trail with urban setting just beyond. Distinctive gummy smell of eucalyptus trees.

Late flight to Hobart. Arrived in a strange sort of motel, unsure how to get in to room as no indications about rooms being round the back. Two local drinkers (who’d just been thrown out of the casino bar) helped us out.

Startling clarity of light over Hobart Bay. Numerous Tasmanian red flowering gum trees, of fluorescent orange, red and pink. Got ourselves kitted out for the duration (car upgraded for free which turned out to be very lucky indeed and allowed us to sleep at the back). Went to Explora, an outfit operating from Sebastian’s garage and super efficient.

A trip to the supermarket and we were away. Ate picnic lunch with sheep nearby in a recreation area in the middle of nowhere.

Drove on Westwards to Lake Peddra/ Huon campsite in a blazing luminosity. This summer has been particularly dry, especially on the east side and everyone longs for rain. Stopped for cherries and an icecream at last outpost of civilization, though we didn’t realise at the time.

Sighted our first ( live) wallaby at 16h45. We slowed down and got a good viewing. Unfortunately we have seen far too many dead animals on the way ( roadkill). Carrion crows clawing at the carcasses, walking away in a dignified manner as we approach.

Drove on and on, for hours on a dirt track and reached Huon lake and campsite, realising as we approached we’d gone off the grid. The campsite is in the woods and Roland set up the tent in a jiffy. We invited our neighbour, Pete, for a glass of wine. He brought his mug. He wondered wittily if we were able to turn wine into water (note the alliteration), since we’d forgotten to bring water with us. Not doing that again. We can of course drink the rain collected water, boil it and use purifying tablets. There is lots of water.

In the evening, after dark, we saw a curious spotted tailed quoll (a wild Tasmanian carnivorous cat) who was probably interested by the smell of our sausages. Pete caught it on his camera and said we were really lucky to have seen it and so close. We could have stroked it, which we didn’t attempt to do. Just as well as apparently it has a very large range of teeth.

Next day, we drove up to Red Knoll for the glorious view. 

As the terrain is even more wet than in Scotland, most trails are wooden, at least when crossing marshes.

Walked or a maybe skied a tiny part of the Port Davey trail, until it began to rain pretty badly. We wanted to go further and start climbing but the weather was not in our favour. 

My hunch that we should buy gaiters, nay-sayed by the men, proved premonitory. A lot of peaty mud. We got back to the car in the nick of time before the heavens really opened. Now understand better why people hire camping cars and don’t tent camp (apart from on hikes) as we have been stuck in the car ever since. It’s tipping it down! We talked to 2 serious hikers coming back from the Port Davey trail, who said the wet tent stuck to their face in the night time. 

The walk was incredible, most beautiful wild forest we have ever seen. You have to disinfect your shoes before you enter. A strange mixture of landscapes.

Gargantuan trees of all sorts. Primeval forests. Huge ferns. Unending swathes of nothingness, one of the wildest places we have ever been to. I am bowled over by the breath- taking wild beauty.

Sensational views on ascent at Mount Anne (1250m). Confession – we didn’t get to summit, too tough after a night in the car. Gorgeous day. The trail neatly constructed as a wooden stairway gave Roland aches and pains in his calf muscles for several days.

We then drove back into civilisation and had another ice-cream to celebrate. Drove on to a well organised and friendly campsite at Wayatinah by a lake. The beginning of our late arrivals at campsites where we were mostly welcomed, despite our late, perhaps inconsiderate, European hours. Tasmanians have dinner around 6pm, most places close at five and lights out around 8-9pm.

Drive next morning took us to Lake St Clair, via Tarraleah. The campsite was basic, with a good camp kitchen and plenty of big super annoying but inoffensive flies, when we had a quick lunch after setting up. We went for a short walk in mid afternoon. Walked though a dense forest to Platypus Bay. We later discovered you needed binoculars, a lot of patience or a telescopic lens to see the platypuses. Another couple showed us their photos, taken at 50m later that evening. However, on our way back, along the beach, we did have our first encounter with a beautiful black tiger snake 80 cm long. I saw it first and gasped. Note I did not shriek or scream. We watched as it slithered off and stayed off the path nearby. No photos allowed.

After supper at the restaurant and a local rum (to calm our nerves or send us to sleep), we retired early, as befits campers. We were amused by a lodge-user holding, or even leading, what was clearly an impressive board meeting (in Dutch) on zoom in the hotel lounge. A black- tailed possum greeted us near our tent at bedtime.

Next, we drove to Zeehan via Horsetail Falls (with some jolly travellers who took a photo of us), via Queenstown, a mining town, where we should have probably stopped but I vetoed the idea.

We were headed for Strahan (West coast) where both of us had a sort of idyllic image of a picnic on the beach. Strahan did not live up to out expectations, for a number of reasons. The beach (Ocean road) involved a dirt track road and a beach where the roaring 40s were rather hostile and impressive. No question of a picnic there. We eventually found a very late quiet picnic stop, on the way to Maquarie Heads.

photos

We didn’t like Strahan at all. The (so-called) wild Western coast was teaming with people (all the campsites were full up), the golf-course over-flow chock-a block, so on we went away. Being obstinate was worth it this time round as our next evening stop was glamping at Zeehan, the most memorable camping stop because of the relative luxury and the obliging and several very tame pademelons grazing on our lawn.

My new definition of bliss: a hot shower.

But Zeehan is such a typical street village that it is also a famous film set for Australian westerns and modern Tasmanian cinema.

We drove on to Corinna the next morning, which involves taking a short ferry across the river. The actual boatman of the ‘fatman boat’  operating the ferry was a Frenchman from Rouen who gave us several Tasmanian tips. We walked along the Savage River Trail, which proved quite exerting, lots of ups and downs, in the most beautiful wild Tarkine forest. Had a picnic at the pontoon where you can see the remains of the sunken Croyden (1919 shipwreck with 10-12 000 ft of cut wood – terrible loss). Such a contemplative peaceful place.

When we asked, naively, in Corinna, if there was accommodation, we were told, bluntly that the next available slot was in one month’s time. Julian could say ‘I told you so’, but is too generous. We then embarked on one of the most challenging gravel dirt tracks roads we have ever driven on (Lyell Highway). I wasn’t driving off course. It lasted 75 kms and resembled a roller coaster. It took a jolly long time and even though I wouldn’t necessarily do it again, I am glad, retrospectively, that we did it, as the scenery was utterly spectacular.

We arrived end of the afternoon at Smithton. A noisy campsite but fine, though I didn’t see the hot water instructions, so being myopic definitely has disadvantages, even if I can read without my glasses.

From Smithton we drove to Stanley the next morning and climbed the (volcanic) nut. This turned out to be fun, especially when we caught the roaring 40s again.

We didn’t stay to see the penguins, which only come out at dusk, though we did sight several pademelons and a penguin hiding in the undergrowth on the penguin trail.

From there we drove and drove again. Along the North coast (ugly) and veering South/East though not having a precise idea of where  we were going. Fortunately we found a basic, but very peaceful, campsite at Gunns Plains, called Wild Wings. The other advantage of the place, aside the much recorded by Roland bird song was that I got talking to two serious hikers (Tasmanian women) who gave us lots of tips and ideas. We both slept like logs, despite,  or because of, the simple conditions of camping in a field.

We then drove on across from the motorway on the Highlands lake Highway ( a sealed road)! Following the tips of our Tasmanian hikers, we stopped for a short and challenging ascent at Projection Bluff, where we picnicked at the top.

On a drive onwards, we stopped near Shannon Tiers at the Steppes to see the 14 statues of Stephen Walker, open to all in the most beautiful forest.  Many black swans in the lagoon of the lake, just like in the statues.

There followed a long drive to Bothwell, which was a dump and the camper ground was vastly unsuitable for tents and undesirable into the bargain. We ended up in another field in Oaklands, beating our own record of a late arrival at nearly 8pm. A gorgeous red sunset was perhaps the most memorable part of that stay, unrecorded as by that time it was eat now or never and everyone else had already gone to bed.

From there, we drove all across to Nubeena, near Port Arthur. An early start as Roland was bothered by the irrigation of the neighbouring field in the night. The hike and earplugs meant I was out for the count.

We are now settled in Nubeena, not far from Port Arthur (SE Tasmanian peninsula). We decided we needed to stay put and have rented a  functional, if somewhat ugly, bungalow on a campsite, in a well situated spot. Beautiful walk along a beach (Roaring Beach) we had to ourselves this afternoon. Rejuvenating briny smell of the sea, we walked along the sand and wet our feet after an encounter with a friendly echidna on the way.