“Let your work feel like holiday and not your holiday feel like work. ”
I’ve learned a valuable lesson. A lesson I will surely impart on everyone I meet who’s considering living the working holiday life. Turn down your damned expectations and savor the ride. When we moved to New Zealand, we were excited. We bought guide books, hatched grand plans (half of which wound up getting scrapped), wrote down punch lists, and more or less planned everything we could in advance. That’s all well in good until things go awry and you feel that sharp FOMO sting. Contrast that with Tasmania, we were too busy making the most of our New Zealand time to make too many plans. That lack of expectation, has yielded some spectacular results. Every trip, is fluid and open, we savor the sites we see and we relish possibly the last time we’ll have in the forseeable to just relax and enjoy life. Because that’s the key of working holiday, let your work feel like holiday and not your holiday feel like work.
It’s for this reason, that I simultaneously have heaps to report, and no blockbuster trips or experiences to relate. Hobart is really starting to feel like home. We’re loving our roommates, they’re first crew we’ve actually gone on outdoor adventures with (see the Mt. Hartz pics above). Our jobs are comfortable and engaging, but minimal enough to keep any notion of stress at bay. Tasmanian summer has proven to be an absolute peach: most days are dappled with clouds, highs in the mid 70s and a nice sea breeze. While Tasmania may not be quite the looker that NZ’s South Island is, there certainly is plenty to keep you occupied at all points of the compass.
“Safe to say we narrowly escaped.”
Of late Meredith and I have taken off west, into the high country. We’ve gazed across the sparkling waters of Lake Saint Clair (Australia’s deepest lake in fact) and hiked up into some of the highest mountains in the state (although the elevation is pretty laughable even by island state standards). We’ve added another Tassie classic wildlife sighting to our list, the wombat. These fuzzy buggers look like big teddy bears, but we were thrown off pretty quickly when one spotted us, came out of the brush, and started backing us up the trail while letting out a blood-curdling battle screech….Turns out they’re actually pretty territorial, and can run almost 30 mph. Safe to say we narrowly escaped.
I’ve pointed our faithful Outback, Dolores, south to explore the renowned south coast. After you leave Hobart you have about an hour enjoying a drive through the famed Huon Valley orchards that earned Tas the nickname ‘Apple Isle’, but after that it feels like you’ve driven off the edge of the map. Pavement ends and you’re left cruising through misty old growth forests before, as it always does, things comes to an abrupt end and naught but the great Southern Ocean sweeps out between you and Antarctica. This is where Tassie shows it’s true colors. From this southern point all the way up the west coast to Strahan is nothing but untamed bush. Many outdoorsy yanks look at maps of the unimaginatively named Southwest National Park and think “Wow that park is huge there must be some great hiking in there!” No, such luck. That corner of the island is still mother nature’s domain. Untouched forest is so dense in its sprawl that it has stubbornly refused nearly all attempts at development. I’ve sought out some viewpoints that look into this untamed no man’s land (at Cockle Creek and Hartz Peak), to gaze into this jungly abyss and the wild mountains contained within. It may not have the drama of New Zealand landscapes but I defy anyone to visit these remote wilds and not feel humbled.
“But Derby sowed the seeds and so they reap the rewards.”
Most recently however, I took a northward trip of a different nature. Meredith took off to the US for the holidays, and I (finally) got myself a bike, so it was time to head off and check out the famed Blue Derby bike park. Derby, is a former tin-mining town tucked away in the woods of the island’s north east. It may well be a ghost town today if not for a bold investment by the local council to start building mountain bike trails. In the way these things happen trails begat more trails, which led to new shops popping up, which led to demand for accommodation in town, which led to interest from international events, all of which has created a compact hub of mountain biking bliss right where you’d least expect it. The most surprising thing about Derby is how average the location is, the trails are a mix of loam and gravel interspersed with slabs of granite, the hills are steep but rather squat, the climate mild if trending a bit on the wet side. In other words, this could be just about any town in Tasmania. But Derby sowed the seeds and so they reap the rewards.
I pulled up a few days before Christmas into a shady camping spot down by the river, threw the car in park and hopped on the bike for four days straight. They’ve built a tremendous trail system in those rolling green hills with everything from remote adventure trails, to massive jump lines, to some of the rowdiest tracks on the EWS circuit. I particularly enjoyed that while shuttling was a possibility, it wasn’t a necessity. Great, purpose built, climbs bring you to nearly every part of the park, allowing masochists like me to pedal for hours on end linking up massive loops through the ferny bush. Suffice to say this is my favorite bike park I’ve ridden, and is the future of cycling that I’d love to see.
So that’s the latest. Life goes on here down south and we try to make the most of every day. With Mere soon to return and the best weather of the year on the horizon I’m not sure what we’ll get up to in 2019, but I sure am excited to get to it. See you on the other side!