Tasmania Day 7: Skipping Bail for the Beach

Breaking out of the rich atmosphere of the tent – rich from the three of us having nachos, cheese and dip, with about half a bottle of tabasco added, before going to sleep – we took stock of our surroundings that we’d stumbled into the night before. We really had just driven down some side forest track and happened upon a part wide enough to get away with pitching a tent on. Still as intent on seeing Fortescue Bay as we were on not paying to get in, we drove back up to the park boundary and walked in the half-kilometre to the camp-ground and beach. The bay is well sheltered and quite idyllic, nothing to rave about at least from our viewpoint, but definitely worth chilling out on for an hour while we woke up.

On to Port Arthur, we were a bit disappointed to find that, although being clearly marked on the map as a town, it was completely fenced off and the only thing we could do for free was look over part of the site from a lookout round the side of the visitor centre. It was something like $17 for basic entry, which I’d probably pay if I went back, but the group consensus – after taking in the view for a while and wondering if we could get away with jumping the fence at the lookout – was there were better things to do with our day.

Following the main road round the peninsula, we’d heard that Roaring Beach had some good surf, so we turned off west at Nubeena to check it out. Not deterred by the suitably roaring, and nippy, wind Kevin and I jumped in while David exercised better judgement and took photos from a distance. The rip was way too much for me, so after spending a few minutes almost hopelessly trying to get back to shore – even though I was only waist deep in the water – I bailed out, while Kevin, typically, swam so far out I couldn’t see him and assumed we’d be called the SES in.

That pretty much summed up our time on the historic Tasman Peninsula before we headed back through Hobart, once again not really bothering to explore the place, only stopping so David could get his glasses fixed, while we made ourselves look like bums playing shit-head on the street. Kevin made friends with a couple how now live in Tassie, when he worked in a restaurant back in Perth, and after a week of uncivilised camping it was the perfect time to call in on them and crash in a proper house again, so that evening, we arrived in Huonville, an hour or so south of Hobart, and met Roy and Liz. For a temporary home while they find their dream spot on the island, their pad was pretty idyllic, set up the valley just outside town, looking over a sweeping bend in the Huon River, not that we really cared though, we were meeting up with some very welcoming people, not sleeping in a tent or a car for the night, and, most importantly, would have a hot shower for the first time in a week!

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