No Fixed Abode: Back to the bush.

Tue 16 Feb 2016 - Freycinet National Park

With the prospect of dry, if cooler, weather we left nice and early for Freycinet National Park, a thin peninsula on the southeast coast of Tasmania, that Keith and Libby had recommended. It was a long drive along windy roads, reminiscent of NZ, and after a brief stop for some snack provisions we arrived around lunchtime.

After we’d munched lunch at a layby overlooking a small beach we headed to the visitor centre and the park proper. The visitor centre was full of useful stuff and Glenn discussed the hiking options with one of the rangers. Armed with a map and some recommendations for hikes we set off for the trailhead car park with a warning to ‘be patient as we’re busy today’. As well as an influx of orientals for the Chinese New Year holidays Libby also warned us of the ‘grey army’ who mobilise after the school holidays.

Sure enough the car park was mobbed with many cars parked along the approach road but luckily a space became free just as we arrived. Yvonne had felt out of sorts all morning and declared disinterest in joining Glenn on the planned 11 km walk, which the signs indicated should take 5 hrs. Despite Glenn’s confident prediction that it should take nowhere near that long, Yvonne has been around too long to hold much stead in that so elected to remain at the car.

After preparing his pack Glenn set off to join the throng heading to Wineglass Bay, the main draw of the park, noted as one of the 10 best beaches in the world by some US authority. True to form there was a small army of orientals all snapping photos of anything and everything so he upped his pace to try to escape them. The peninsula is made of red granite and the extremely well made path wound its way up stone stairs and round huge boulders towards a viewpoint over the bay - the objective for the majority of walkers.

The viewpoint afforded the first view of the turquoise waters in a crescent bay supposedly shaped like a wineglass. It was packed with hordes of orientals, all tussling to get to the handrail for an endless string of photographic poses. Eventually a corner became free and Glenn darted in, snapped a couple of photos, shot some video, albeit with the din of the oriental directors and their models in the background, and got on his way.

Down at the bay it was like holiday time in Shanghai so Glenn walked a few hundred metres along the beach to find some space to himself and some peace and quiet. The bay was beautiful but top 10 in the world? Maybe not. Anyway, after 15 mins Glenn left the throng, nearly all of whom returned the way they’d come, and set off on the rest of his circular route. He didn’t see another sole for over an hour - perfect.

The first 2km was through bush, across the neck of an isthmus to Hazard beach on the far shore. Luckily the Aussie bush is much more airy and attractive than the Kiwi bush so the walking was very pleasant.

The opposite shore was a different place altogether. Gone was the sheltered bay with timid waves lapping gently at the beach. Here was a vast body of windswept open water with waves crashing against a long shoreline. The path turned along the beach for 1km and Glenn strode off, occasionally scurrying to avoid the incoming waves, to the far end where it turned inland to climb above the cliffs and then contouring round the side of one of the Hazard mountains.

Many ups and downs and viewpoints later Glenn caught up with the first people he’d met since the Chinese party beach, overtaking several others before reaching the car park. When he got back to the car Yvonne was just waking up from a three hour nap which had a) improved her demeanour no end and b) confirmed his estimation of the length of the walk.

A short drive later we were at Romance Bay famed for its pink sands. The bay is a tiny arc, probably only 100m across, set amongst red granite headlands that provide the eroded material that colours the sand. We clambered over the rocks a while taking photos of the weather worn formations then returned to the car park where a small kangaroo was being hounded by a group of orientals all keen to get a photo progressively closer to it. Luckily it didn’t seem that bothered. Then it was off another 30 miles north to the small town of St Mary’s, where we were stopping for the night.

After a long twisty ride up through the bush we came to the rather odd, ramshackle place and drove up and down the main road to find somewhere to eat. Noting one small cafe that looked open we returned to the old hotel on the intersection of the main roads. From the outside there was no sign of life so Glenn went over to try the doors, stepped inside and found a lively throng and best of all the wood burning fire was lit - it had become quite chilly once the sun set.

Keith and Libby had warned us of Aussie pub portion sizes but when our meals arrived we were pleased to see that half the large mound on our plates was vegetables - seven different types in all. Although they looked like they’d come out of a plastic bag they tasted ok. With our meal finished we savoured the last of our beer people watching - an eclectic bunch - then set off for the B&B.

We arrived at the old period house and were shown around by Diane, our host, before settling into our dark old room with two old electric heaters and the electric blanket on full.