Hobart – Devonport
Almost a week ago I handed in my house keys, filled up the tank, and hit the long road. I don’t get on the ferry to Melbourne for a few more days, so this last stretch of time in Tasmania has been reserved for goodbyes. Not just goodbyes to my friends, but goodbye to the wonderful world that is this island. Beaches and breweries, sand dunes and sunrises, mountain peaks and marines with little boats that squeak. I want to take my time.
I drove out of Hobart and took a final glance at kunanyi as I headed up the east coast. As she disappeared behind a bend in the road, I finally felt as though I was on the way. I was inundated with questions; why haven’t I learned to change a tyre yet? Did I remember to cancel the internet? And what the hell am I going to do with all these cans of beans? Ans: 1. Cross that bridge when you get to it or just ask dad if he can teach you. (Dad? Are you reading this?) 2. Yes, I’m certain I remember this phone call. 3. I don’t know. It’s like, a LOT of beans.
First stop – Poppa’s house in Orford. I dropped by in the afternoon (just in time for a glass of whiskey before dinner), and as I was explaining my plan he said something that’s stuck with me for a few days since, “How exciting is it to have the beginning of an adventure, and no end.” And, I mean, I do have an intended end to this trip and an idea of when I think I’ll want to tie things off, but realistically there’s no knowing how everything will pan out and whether or not my intended end is in fact the end is still completely unknown which is pretty exciting.
Camping with a view of the Hazards.
With a few nights on the coast, I started to get a sense of what it was like to travel alone again. I’ve done it plenty of times before, but there’s definitely a formula to alone time vs putting yourself out there socially, and I need to relearn my own perfect ratio. I spent these few days drinking coffee in car parks, reading on the beach, and swimming at every available opportunity. But by the time I set off on a hike up Mount Amos, I remembered the joy of meeting new people. A group of friends were on the trail just behind me, and I pulled over to let them pass because, let’s be real, they were powering up the slick granite slopes while I fumbled for the right footing, anxious of slipping 400 metres down the cliff-face. Once I’d let them overtake me, I noticed that one of the girls seemed just as nervous as me, her legs shaking while her friends encouraged her onwards.
Knowing how nervous I get when I can feel another hiker breathing down my neck, I said to her, “Take your time! You’re doing great!” Visibly relieved after hearing these words, she thanked me and slowly shimmied up the thin crevice. From that moment, the two of us walked together while her friends powered on, lending a helping hand and plenty of encouraging words. I was really proud of myself for finishing this hike because I’ve tried to complete it twice before, each time the rock face feeling like someone has poured soap all over the surface. This time though, with the sun beating down, the path was safe to walk on and we got a stunning view of Wineglass Bay and Hazards Beach from the peak. Afterwards, I met up with a friend for a swim (despite the wind having picked up significantly) and a beer at the pub to close off the day.
Happy as Larry at the top of Mount Amos.
A long drive to Devonport in the treacherous wind, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, had me considering pulling over. But the roads have too many sharp corners for this to be safe, and I was keen to finally catch my good friend, Alex. Once we were together, we drove further west to Sister’s Beach to spend the night with her family in a stunning home right on the waterfront. Massive windows opened to the ocean, and Alex’s uncle told me that just a few days ago a pair of orca were seen. From here we drank pinot and Boag’s Red (a rogue combination but I guess you can’t take the north-west coast out of Alex), hiked from Rocky Cape to Sister’s Beach along the inland route, and ate an entire cheesecake in under 18 hours.
Rocky Cape to Sister’s Beach walk where the 25% chance of less than 0.2ml of rain was very wrong.
Since then I’ve had an admin day in the Devonport library, accidentally ripped a roof rack off poor old Deloraine (don’t try to reverse under low hanging branches – but don’t fret for me, no cars were damaged in the poor judgement of Layla’s parking), and finished reading my fifth book for the year so far. Right now, I have a belly full of chipotle scrambled egg roll and coffee, and I’m sitting looking out over the beach in Penguin while my bathers dry in the morning sun. Today I’ll hike up Mount Dial with Luke and Darcy and I just can’t get over how bloody amazing it all is.
Man – there’s so much to say! I don’t know what people are interested in reading about and I don’t know if a detailed daily itinerary is really my writing style, but when I sat down to create a post about my last few days, I was stunned by the small memories that had stuck with me. I keep thinking about the morning that I walked along the beach and just cried because I was so overwhelmingly happy. I keep thinking about the colour of the sunset and how strange it is that purple and orange can melt together so perfectly. I keep thinking about the woman singing and dancing her heart out while she walked her dogs, not caring in the slightest what I thought. I keep thinking about what I’m going to do with all these goddamn beans.
