Tassie Crash Course
Our time in Tassie is coming to a close but we’ve been making the most of our remaining days under down under.
So This Is Why They Say It’s Like New Zealand
Of late I’ve been going on and on about the value of turning off one’s expectations when living abroad, of just letting the wind take you and finding serendipity around every corner. While that has still largely been the modus operandi down here in Tassie that doesn’t mean that these dog days don’t blaze on even as our time down here draws to a speedy close. As such, the past month has been a bit of a whirlwind with new sights at all corners of the island calling our names. It started off with a grand adventure that took me as far afield as I have been to date, out to Tassie’s wet and wild west coast.
“It’s a whole hell of a lot like, oh I don’t know, say the Southern Alps of New Zealand.”
Living in New Zealand we were constantly referred to Tasmania as somewhere we should check out, and even at first glance you can see the similarity. Remote islands, sparse populations, untamed nature, it all rings very true. What I didn’t realize until this trip is that they’re physically quite similar as well, you just wouldn’t know it hanging out (as I largely have) in the dry eucalyptus forests on the east coast. For this trip I loaded up Dolores and first headed north west to check out one of the island’s most famous sights, Cradle Mountain. Thrusting up from the central plateau Cradle Mountain is the northern most tip of Tasmania’s highest range. Here the quintessential grey dolorite peaks still show clear signs of recent glacial carving with hanging, u-shaped valleys, thundering waterfalls, and deep glacial lakes, what’s more these peaks catch the abundant moisture that blows in off of southern ocean. It’s a whole hell of a lot like, oh I don’t know, say the Southern Alps of New Zealand. To be sure, the peaks are less dramatic and pronounced but with waterfalls tumbling over sheer cliffs and ferns clinging to every crack and crevice the resemblance is striking nonetheless.
“The peak spends most of its days shrouded in the mists. ”
They say the most famous picture taken in Tasmania is the view of craggy Cradle Mountain reflected in the crystalline waters of Dove Lake, I headed up in the morning (along with every tour coach within a 100km radius) to catch an eyeful of this beauty myself. Well what they don’t tell you in the brochures is that those mountains are quite effective at catching clouds coming off the ocean, and that the peak spends most of its days shrouded in the mists. This was one such day, no iconic photo op for me. Oh well, there was still plenty of good hiking to be done in the drizzle below the cloud banks. After a couple hours of dodging soggy ferns and craning my neck at plunging waterfalls I could’ve sworn that I was back in NZ.
My day of battling the crowds at Cradle Mountain left me craving something a bit less travelled so I continued my journey off into the veritable rainforest that covers Tassie’s west coast. Before long the roads ran completely empty, glacier-carved mountains rose all around me as banks of low clouds clung to their sides. I was back in heaven. The rest of the day was spent (literally) chasing waterfalls and doding the rain until sunset found me camped up on a far flung head outside of the westernmost town in the state, Strahan.
The next morning was one of curious discovery as I stopped for a coffee in Queenstown (Tasmania). Aside from the name this little mining outpost could not have much less in common with the buzzing tourism mecca of the same name in New Zealand. This town looked like it could’ve been dropped right out of the American west, and with soaring mountains surrounding on all sides I felt like I was home. It’s remarkable how architecture of gold-rush era towns could be so consistent the world over, almost as if this trip had run me through the past year of my life and right back home again.
Always Seeking Adventure
Of course all that’s how I live my day to day life out here on Tassie’s east coast where we’re busy soaking up one stunner of a summer. Merciful rains have quenched the fires that were ripping across the state in my last post and we’ve been left with balmy days that beg to be used to their utmost. Fortunately opportunities lie at every turn for those on the hunt.
A few weeks back Mere and I had a beautiful day line up together so we headed back down south through the rolling orchards of the Huon Valley and into the southern forests. Hidden back away in these wild woods are the Hasting’s Caves, a series of limestone caverns of indeterminate length that dot the country side. Fortunately some enterprising Taswegians discovered these marvels and promptly got to work giving tours of the joint. I’m by no means a cave expert, but these have to be one of the more undersold systems I’ve seen. Down a few steps below the earth and chamber after chamber branch off filled with all your classic cave formations: towering columns, dripping stalactites, and the ever-tasty cave bacon. A solid day trip made all the more sweet with a visit to the local cider-house where the bounty of the Huon is put to good use. If that’s a “boring” Sunday, I’ll count it as a win.
“We cracked open a few cold ones and gathered around the fire as the sky came alive with all the glory of the milky way.”
The next week our group of Tasmanian friends proved to be worth much more than just good company on the wine tour, when they had me out for a little classic Tassie camping trip. We’d already explored the Tasman Peninsula a bit, but these guys know it like the backs of their hands. So, even though I was a bit late to join the party they were able to say park your car here and walk west until you hit the ocean, that’s where we’ll be. Where, turned out to be, Lagoon Beach where a short hike paid huge dividends. We camped up right on the sprawling white sand beach, splashed around in the sheltered bay, and gathered wood for a good ol’ fashioned beach fire. From there we cracked open a few cold ones and gathered around the fire as the sky came alive with all the glory of the milky way. We chatted, and sang, and solved the problems of the world together, because that’s what friends are for.
Maria Island Mania
And that all brings us to this week. To what was likely our last major trip here in Tasmania. It’s really hard to believe, thankfully it was one for the record books. Maria Island (pronounced Mar-eye-uh) sits off the east coast just an hour north of Hobart, and epitomizes so much of what makes this side of the state beautiful. The whole island is a national park so it has become a veritable ark for endangered species and haven for cyclists as there are no cars to be found there.
“We left any semblance of civilization behind.”
We jumped on the ferry one misty morning to cross the Mercury Passage over to the island’s lone settlement, Darlington. As one may imagine this settlement was mostly the remnants of a penal operation, apparently just being shipped to the far side of the world wasn’t punishment enough. In any case we weren’t too interested in hanging about with all the tourists right by the ferry drop-off; we’d brought our bikes over, so we saddled up and headed south. Fortunately for us it was a cool morning as we wound our way down the island through open eucalyptus forest past a string of pearlescent, untouched beaches making for breezy riding as we left any semblance of civilization behind.
A day’s (or hour’s) hard riding needed to be well rewarded, and thankfully Maria provided. From our tent at one end a shimmering-white beach stretched for miles south with not another soul to be found. The sun poked his big yellow face out to set the waters ablaze with colors you’d expect in a Caribbean travel brochure. So we settled in for a back-breaking day of floating in the tranquil waters and walking the vast stretches of beach. It’s a pretty tough life we live here way down south.
“Scores of kangaroo jumping elegantly through the underbrush.”
Of course, sighting some wildlife is another huge highlight of visiting Maria. Wombats, who you may remember from our encounter a few months ago up near Lake Saint Clair, are less the territorial meanies we met and more a bunch of amiable fuzz-balls on the island. And they are everywhere. Another big goal for the trip as well was to see a Tasmanian Devil, for as famous as the little buggers are they sure seem to be hard to encounter. A couple years ago devils were introduced to the island to give the species a new stronghold, they’ve taken well to their new home but remain as elusive as ever. Fortunately, other creatures were a little more forthcoming, as Maria is also home to many Forester Kangaroos. By now I’ve grown quite accustomed to the millions of wallaby that hop through the woods, so I was delighted to poke my head out of our tent in the morning to see another hopping biped that was distinctly new. Then I was thrilled on my morning run to find scores of kangaroo jumping elegantly through the underbrush.
Six months ago we moved to Tasmania with no plans and no expectations, and it’s gone by in an absolute whirlwind. We’ve made some of the best friends that we’ve gotten to know since coming abroad, and been blown away by how much this ragged little island has to offer. But man, it felt so fast. In two weeks we’ll be boarding the Spirit of Tasmania with our faithful car packed to the gills with all of our worldly possessions, to start our next chapter in Melbourne. I’m excited about the prospect of discovering a new city, of exploring the mainland, of meeting new friends, and I feel very much like I’ve done Tassie the right way. That doesn’t change the fact, though, that I’m going to miss it.
Our Route
Van Dieman's Life
As the summer gets into full swing Meredith and I have been knocking off some classic sites near and far down here in Tassie.
Tackling Tasman Peninsula
The weather is heating up here way down south so Mere and I are back on the road with a whole new island to explore. We’re getting settled into our new lives down in Hobart, establishing ourselves at work, and starting to get bit once again by that ever persistent travel bug. No need to go too far in this part of the worth though, adventure always sits close at hand when the largest city in the state is about the size of Boulder. Our first adventure took us just across the River Derwent out onto the Tasman Peninsula, which encapsulates so much of what Tasmania has to offer.
“Hidden campsites along remote beaches tucked between towering sea cliffs.”
The peninsula juts out to the east of town in dramatic fashion, dominating the landscape. About an hour’s drive saw us cruising down dirt roads through the eucalyptus forests. The peninsula offers adventure in droves with hidden campsites along remote beaches tucked between towering sea cliffs. Mere and I camped up at one such beach, made friends with the local wildlife- seeing a wallaby with a joey sticking it’s head out of the pouch will never not be cute- and got to walking on our first proper hike of the trip.
We elected to follow the famed Three Capes track in day-walker fashion. This quintessentially Tasmanian hike follows the coastline in skirting narrowly along the edge of some of the most dramatic sea cliffs in Australia. In our day hike we boogied all the way out to the end of Cape Hauy to be treated to views over some truly dizzying heights. Much of the rock in this part of the world was formed in vertical, pipe-like chunks. Over the millenia the sea has carved this away into some staggering, and staggeringly tall formations. The cliffs plunged off below us for hundreds of feet while isolated spires rose back up in defiance of the waves. It’s not hard to see why this is considered such a quintessential Tasmanian hike.
The adventure didn’t stop at a little hike out on the peninsula. We made short work of some other great sites as well. Blowholes, sea caves, carved arches, and a cheeky gin-tasting had us giddy. Not bad for a trip just out of town.
Frisky In Freycinet
Naturally, though we are keen to get out further afield, and while we wait for weather to properly warm in the high country there was one area properly begging to be explored. Freycinet. An absolute Tassie classic, Freycinet is a peninsula jutting from the east coast a couple hours north of Hobart. As we drove in we were immediately confronted with why this place is atop so many travel lists.
“Looming over the park are a series of red granite peaks that would look more at home rising from the deserts in Utah.”
Looming over the park are a series of red granite peaks that would look more at home rising from the deserts in Utah than from the wild Tasman Sea. But there they are, in all their incomparably photogenic glory. These peaks, dubbed The Hazards, make the main attraction for Freycinet and draw millions of visitors to the park every year. We were glad to get in before the high season, so we could easily get a secluded campsite with in incredible view.
There was another wonder we needed to explore in the park though. We laced up and hoofed our way through those piles of rock to look out further down the coast, wherein lies Tasmania’s most photographed beach, Wineglass Bay. Sitting just south of The Hazards, off down the narrow peninsula, is Wineglass a near perfect semicircle of white sand filled with the aquamarine waters you’d expect to find in the Bahamas. Our hike took us down to soak up what has apparently been rated as one of the world’s best beaches. We’d be hard pressed to disagree. Although, if I’m being honest, at that time of year the water isn’t exactly calling you to jump in sans wetsuit.
We enjoyed our romp around the hazards, soaking in the beauty of orange rock plunging into electric blue water at every turn. But we may have enjoyed more, stopping off on our way out of the park for to nose a fine glass of the local Sauv B and tuck into a basket of fish and chips as we looked back over at those improbably beautiful piles of rock.
In The Nearfield
As we learned well in NZ though, not all adventures require venturing very far at all. That couldn’t be more true from our abode perched on the side of Mount Wellington. A quick jaunt up the hill, past all of my new favorite bike trails, will put you exploring the Organ Pipes the set of dramatic cliffs that overlook Hobart. The vertical structure of the local granite is once again evident as these walls draw climbers, and onlookers, up the mountain from all corners of the state.
“Russell Falls plunges in tiers from the mountain above making a beautiful scene, even if getting a clear shot of it is a little difficult.”
Just up the river from town lies another local treasure in Mt. Field National Park. Although, to be fair, this one did have us a little more reminded of peak season New Zealand with camper vans and tour groups abounding. But for all that it’s a nice slice of wilderness, with what has now been nominated Meredith’s favorite waterfall. Russell Falls plunges in tiers from the mountain above making a beautiful scene, even if getting a clear shot of it is a little difficult.
Heading down south, and I mean all the way south, like as far south as you can drive in Australia south, another adventure is tucked away. One of Tassie’s most famous tramps, the South Coast Track, explores (as you may imagine) the southern coast of the state. It’s an epic, 8-day adventure where one must fly to the start by bush plane. That’s a little too full on for me right now, so I made do with a speedy day trip to hike the final section soaking in views of remote coasts and the southernmost point in Tas, Southeast Cape (creative I know).
So, there you have it. Life goes on in Tas, sights are seen, friends are made, and plans are laid. We have some exciting trips lined up that we can’t wait to get into. Hopefully, that will help with any homesickness this holiday season!