Autum

 Driving through the higher elevations, the air temperature told us winter was coming. Even at sea level the air was crisp and the lazy wind went straight through you. Autum was here.

 

Throughout, the trees were putting on a spectacular display, the leaves changing from green to all shades of orange and red through to yellow.

 

 

While the colors of the landscape were changing, so was the length of daylight hours, nights were getting longer and days shorter.

 

As soon as the sun lowered itself toward the horizon the bitter cold came down on you with icy fingers grabbing at your face and any exposed skin.

A good fire made being outside comfortable, and our fire pot began to get a workout. While inside, Ned wrapped his arms around us and the diesel heater made the space a cozy haven. We have braved a Tasmanian winter before and were prepared for the coming weather.

Still a few weeks left of our Tassie adventure left, so onward we go, soaking up the sights and filling our senses with the changing seasons.

Lorinna

 

Leaving Dee, we made our way back to Forth and our mate, who, we had promised to give a hand to do some needed repairs to his house, and cut a long dead tree down on his property.

 

The jobs were done quickly, though spread out over a few days. With these out of the way, and some nights around the fire in his front lawn, we once again took to the road. This time it was Lorinna we set our sights on. Lorinna is on the shores of Lake Cethana, another hydro lake on the Forth River in the mid north of Tassie. We have been there a few times before, a couple of times with our mate and his Australia day fishing trips. It is somewhat out of the way so not many campers go there. Lorinna is a small collection of houses with a few permanent residences perched on the mountainside just above the Lake, a place wonderfully lost in time, mostly people looking for a simpler and more natural way of living dwell here, and there aren't that many.

Driving down to the campground, you come to the shoreline, the mirror flat lake, with trunks of long dead trees standing like sentinels in the water, sacrificed, when the dam wall was built and the area flooded.

A small, wooden shelter, built a long time ago, is where we squeezed the truck between the tall trees and made our home.

Out came the fire pot, table, chairs and cooking gear. Next was the shower tent, we had moved in.

Beautiful sunshine sparkled off the calm lake water as we walked along the edge. A splash caught our eye and a small shape glided in and out of the standing dead trees, a platypus, casually diving for his daily food. We watched for a long time, spellbound, enjoying this special moment.

 

Day three and four were not so glorious, clouds rolled in and rain showers followed. So it is this time of year here, a few beaut days and then a few not so beaut. We take it as it comes, a good fire keeps the cold at bay,and if we can’t have that, out heater in the truck is a lifesaver, a haven away from the blustery weather outside.

 

We had enough good days there to make it worth the trip, but as always, the time came to move on, and we did.

Cockle Creek

 Ned's wheel stud still needed fixing, our friends, on the farm up at Nieta was the place I chose to do the job, he had the tools and equipment if needed if anything went wrong.

As it happened, nothing was needed, just parked up on the front yard and removed the back hub and replaced the offending broken part.

when all done and all caught up on the local goings on, thanks were given and farewells said, the southernmost point of the island was beckoning.

 

We wound our way southward, and I mean wound, Tasmania is a land of mountains and large hills.  Except for the midlands part, driving around involves a lot of steep, winding mountain roads.

 

Taking the inland route, we entered the highland lakes area. The largest o these lakes is called, appropriately, The Great Lake. There is a hotel overlooking the lake and we called in as it was approaching lunchtime. A crackling fire in the large fireplace welcomed us into the dining room, nice and cosy, as the temperature outside was dropping fast. Having had a very nice meal and a cool refreshment, we continued on our way.

 

Less than an hour later we drove along the shores of Bradeys Lagoon, a smallish lake with a free camp which we decided to make home for the night.

There are many lakes in Tassie, a lot of them are man made, creating storage reservoirs for the many hydro electric power stations dotted around the state. These lakes also provide recreation opportunities for the population, trout fishing being very popular. Water sking and swimming are also done, though I think you would have to be mad or Tasmanian to do ether.

 

Ended up staying for four days enjoying the good weather. We were at a high elevation, which meant temperatures were low, but not unpleasant.

 

Again the time came where we should move on, and so we did. Dropping down from the highlands, we took another few days to get past Hobart and onward to Cockle Creek, the most southern point you can drive to.

A free camp just outside the national park is where we parked for four days. A short walk takes you to the beach and a short drive through the national park deposits you at the states edge. We had been there before, but visited again and Din kissed the whale sculpture at the point as she had done before.

Dull and sometimes rainy days saw us leaving after the four days, still, it was worth the trip.

 

On the way north again we called into Hobart, where a friend of ours lives. Spending a night parked outside his house we caught up and were on our way the next day.

 

Heading north again, we took a different road into the lakes, we were headed to Dee lagoon, another lake in the highlands. Tasmania being the size it is, destinations aren't  that far apart, though times are longer given all the slow, winding mountain roads.

 We arrived at Dee in the late afternoon and set up camp, which consisted of pulling up and opening up the side awning. In the morning, I scouted about and found we were all alone again, just how we like it.

Another five days spent there, a couple of fishermen the only people seen. Fly fishermen are interesting to watch, deftly swishing the line backwards and forwards in graceful arcs until dropping the fly in a predetermined spot where the trout sees it as a tasty bug to pounce on.

 Unfortunately, no one caught a fish while we watched, but we were entertained anyway.

 

 

 

Tasmania

 Devonport welcomed us with clear skies and cold gusts of wind. Driving only a few ks around the coast, we arrived at Forth Sports grounds, our usual first stop when disembarking. 

After catching up with our old mate Rodney, we moved on further east, to a spot we discovered on a previous summer tassie visit.

There was a long weekend coming up, and this place was a little out of the way, so hopefully, not too many people would be there. Also, the spot was close to, or at least in the same direction as the shop I needed to go to, to pick up the wheel nut I needed.

After calling into the parts place in Berni and picking up the wheel nut, we headed out to the camp spot.

 They had had good rains in the previous weeks and so the track in was a bit eroded with a few bog holes along the way. Nothing that would stop us though. Winding along the sloping track, we passed through dark, damp, temperate rainforest, finally breaking through to a clearing beside the river.

Recent heavy rain had washed out the creek crossing to our former camp site, so another site down river was selected for camp. An equally pleasant spot, the river a short stroll away and the area clear enough to let the warming rays of sunlight in.

For the next five days we had the whole place to ourselves. Nothing but the gurgle of the water flowing over the smooth worn rocks and the echoing calls of currawongs in the treetops. 

All too soon, the time came for us to move on. Rain clouds were gathering over the nearby hills, the track in was sketchy as it was and we didn't want to climb out of there after bad weather. After packing up and making sure we left only our footprints, we crawled away up the track.

A new year roaming free

 

Well here we are,

 last time we communicated we were heading south after our adventure exploring the very tip of this amazing country.

Being so close to home, we called in and got caught up with repairs and improvements to the property. After some time spent with family and friends Dins feet started to itch and the order was put out to finish up all jobs and head out.

Summer was in full swing, the heat and humidity was oppressive, we said farewell and pointed towards cooler climes.

Calling in to our friend's place in the mountains west of Camilla, we spent some time catching up. Then it started to rain and didn't let up for a couple of days. We said bye to our friend and continued our journey south. Rain followed us, we turned westward at Rockhampton and slowly left the wet weather behind.

This was to be the start of a big wet for all of northern Australia. Our departure could not have been better timed.

Tassie was our goal, but we travelled to SA and met up with Deb and the Camels for a while first. While there, I helped shade cloth the verandahs of her stone cottage as well as other odd jobs that needed doing.

Geelong and the Spirit of Tasmania were beckoning us, so with a fond hug for Deb and the camels, we drove out her gate.

While the Malley, where the camels are, was fast heating up, as we travelled south, cooler weather enticed us further. Down to the southern coast of S.A. and then following the coastline east, we slowly made our way toward Geelong, where the Sprit would be waiting to whisk us away to Tasmania.

Crossing the border into Victoria, the cooler weather continued. Winding our way along the cliff edge path of the Great Ocean Road we took in the sights of the southern coastline.

Eventually, Geelong appeared around the corner. I found online the address of a truck parts store I needed to visit as some ways down the road I had discovered a rear wheel stud and wheel nut had parted company with the truck. The wheel stud had snapped off at some point and taken the wheel nut with it. There were still four nuts holding the wheel on, but I needed to replace the broken one as soon as possible. Fortunately, the parts store had a stud in stock, but not a nut. I bought the stud and would have to source a nut when we arrived in Tasmania.

Geelong, like all cities, frown upon people overnighting in public places. There are no areas for travelers like us to camp up, except for the show grounds, which fill up quickly since the ship made Geelong its mainland port and moved from Port Melbourne. Saying that, it is a much better place to board the ship. Not being afraid of a challenge, we went for a scout about. Finding an out of the way car park on the bay not far from the Spirit dock, we parked up for the night and waited for boarding time in the morning to roll around.

A day sailing leaves early in the morning and arrives in Devonport that evening. We try to get a night sailing and have a good nights sleep before disembarking, but when that's not possible, we still get a cabin so Din, who is not good on the water, can lie down and be miserable in comfort.

Time to leave

 

With some reluctance, we again broke camp and went into Bamaga to resupply for our return journey down the cape.

Just before the Jardine ferry, a track goes close by the river, we followed it, as we do. There was evidence of it once being blocked off, as in a barricade lying on the ground. We continued, being prepared to turn back if necessary. About half way down we came to a huge washout in the track, obviously the reason for the broken down barricade. There was a bypass track around, a bit tight and rough, but I considered it doable, around we went. The dip we had to negotiate had a steep departure and the tow bar dug into the base of the dip on the way out, threatening to leave us stuck, but Ned grunted, lurched, and heaved himself free. Huge anthills are all over here, standing proud against the elements. A few tight turns, and we were back on track again.

Made the ferry for one of the last crossings for the day, we considered camping on the bank and crossing the next day, but the fly's there were gathering in droves, so we decided to cross and camp up the road a bit. Boarding the ferry, we waved to the operator and he threw it into gear and hauled us to the opposite bank. An old roadworks quarry, not far up the road, was our stop for the night.

30k south of the ferry was the picture plant creek camp we found on the way up, so next day we set our sights on there. Arriving, we were glad to see it deserted. Quickly setting up camp, we felt at home at our little oasis again. During the day, as we sat and watched the crystal clear water cascade over the small waterfall, a freshwater turtle glided by, gracefully sailing from the depths of the small pool to the surface and poking his head out for a breath of air.

Soon he was joined by two others, they effortlessly floated about poking here and there looking for a tasty morsel to pounce on. When they noticed that they were not alone, they didn’t seem to perturbed, the bigger one would surface close to the bank and have his head out of the water and quite intently stare into our eyes. 

Din soon had some mince out and threw them bits. They would scramble to the mouthful and had to fight for it with the several small fish who honed in on it too. We were surprised we didn’t notice them last time we were there, maybe we were too busy looking at the wonderful plant life surrounding the creek and didn’t notice the aquatic inhabitants.

They, however got our attention this time, being unafraid, but cautious, they would come to the small pool each day from further up the creek, and frolic about, stopping at times for a breath and stare at us saying hello. With water so clear, a sandy bottom scattered with fallen leaves, they were easy to observe, playing out their daily lives, foraging and interacting with each other. 

 

Also, while observing the goings on in the creek, a ulissies butterfly alighted on an overhanging branch, it’s large wings pulsing, revealing flashes of brilliant blue as it rested. Unfortunately, it fluttered off out of sight before I could get the camera. Another special time spent communing with nature in all her glory.

We spent six days there, observing the turtles and relaxing, cooking bread, another roast, a cake, enjoying the solitude. However, we couldn’t stay forever, so the day came when we broke camp and headed south.

Back to Mutee

 

Back to Mutee Head and the turtle beach, we pulled up and our old spot was free, though another two campers were set up not far away. It was Friday, so we set up camp for at least till after the weekend.

New turtle tracks were evident along the beach, we tried our luck at fishing, but, with no big ones taking to our hooks, or even little ones for that matter, we gave it away and retreated to the shade of camp. A couple of bush turkeys were hanging around camp, scratching about for any crumbs. While collecting firewood I stumbled on their nest, a huge mound of scratched up sandy soil around some saplings.

In the afternoon, a boat with three indigenous fellas pulled up at the beach and two got out and began digging in the sand. Din went down to chat and soon called for me to bring the camera. When I arrived the men had pulled out a dozen or so eggs from their hole. They told us these were Flat-back turtle eggs and good tucker. 

They, as indigenous to the area, have the right to harvest the eggs for eating, as well as Dugong and turtle and other sea life that is off limits to others. They never completely deplete a nest but take just enough for a feed, there could be over a hundred eggs in one nest alone. When done they offered us two eggs to try if we liked. With that opportunity presenting itself we could not refuse, thanking them, we took the eggs and they continued on their way. We think it was very welcoming and generous for them to share with us, these interactions are what make our travels so enjoyable.

In the morning, I boiled up the eggs, as was instructed, and had them with toast. The yoke cooks firm but the white is more like a jelly, when put in front of Din, she studied it for a time then decided to forego the experience. I ended up eating both eggs. Not tasting like chicken eggs, but not unpleasant ether, as was told to us, they taste like turtle eggs. Tried one with salt and hot sauce as recommended by our egg digging mates, it was well worth the trying. 

Five days spent at Mutee Head, this was one of our most favourite camps. More turtle tracks and hatch ling tracks in the mornings, but even getting up at two in the morning to catch high tide, no turtles spotted.

On the last evening spent at Mutee, Turtle Beach, high clouds rimmed the sky, making the setting sun appear as a huge orange globe as it approached the horizon. As it descended, the colours transformed the scene into a real life depiction of the aboriginal flag, a fitting farewell to our Pajinka adventure.

Punsand

 

Back on the Pajinka road, travelling south we came to the Punsand Beach turn off. At the intersection, the Crock Tent sits. This tent, literally a tent, is a souvenir shop, lots of cars were parked and every one was shopping for their cape nick knacks. Unfortunately, most were made in China. It didn’t stop them though, they bought up big, everything, with I’ve been to the cape plastered over it. Din did get some little things for the grand-kids.

Leaving them to it, we continued on to Punsand. The camp ground was also doing a roaring trade, booked out for weeks, not that we were interested in camping there.

As Din missed out on seeing the actual tip of Australia, we inquired about the helicopter flight operating from there. It would be a shame to come all this way and not be able to go the last 800m. We booked a flight, we don’t often spend up big on non essential things, but this was worth it. After being delayed for an hour or so because of rain squalls around the tip, we were told it was on. 

With the rotor of the helicopter rapidly gaining momentum, our pilot checked all was good with his machine, and us, then said, “OK we’re off”, as the skids left the sand and we gained height over the ocean the islands dotted around the coastline came more sharply into view. Skirting the coast, we travelled north. Din in the front, next to the pilot and me in the back, with the noise of the rotors and shuddering of the motor, as well as the wind blowing through the open doorways filling our senses. Then, banking to the right, we were rounding the very top of Australia. The rugged, rocky point jutting out into the ocean with Wamilug(York Island) only a stones throw away from the tip. Hovering for a few moments, then moving down the east coast for a bit we surveyed the craggy coastline, then retraced our flight path, a bit further out this time, over some small islands and eventually landing back on the beach.

Another experience that will stay with us forever. Thanking our young pilot, we headed for the bar and had a drink and recounted the experience.

Up the track a bit was a free camp by the beach, off we went up the somewhat rough, sandy track, with poor old Ned tipping at impossible angles at some parts due to one wheel track dropping down far below the other in some washouts, he kept his balance however and we made it through. Finding a level patch by the beach we set up camp. Next day it was back south for us, as more and more campers were turning up where we were. We called into Uncle Toms place, the man we met at Loyalty beach camp, and had lunch with him, of chicken and chips, which we had bought at Seisia on the way through.

He was slow cooking a huge fish on a grill, over a small fire, he had caught the fish in the creek that morning.

“Him a bone fish, going to be for the cat”, he said, “too many bones” although he said he would probably have some himself. He was very welcoming, but we didn’t camp as I think he had others coming to stay. After another good chat, we said a fond farewell, and continued on.

Somerset and beaches.

 

Eleven k from Pajenka, the turn off to Somerset veeres to the left, so did we. Another 7k on, after another rainforest drive, we turned onto the road that takes you to the beaches. Around the headland of Narau beach followed the road down the hill side to a point overlooking Nanthau Beach. The ground was not very level, but we found a reasonable spot at the bottom near the road. No one about, and spectacular views, convinced us to stay.

Stands of Pandanas were dotted about the rocky shoreline. Strong gusts of wind blustered in from the ocean, we didn’t mind, everything on Ned was secured and the wind fought oof the heat and even the most determined mozzie or sand fly could not compete against that wind.

While sitting in the doorway and looking at the sea and shoreline, turtles could be seen raising their heads for gulps of air as they foraged for food amongst the rocks. Glimpses of them could be had as the sun shone through the swells, they seemed to surf the waves underwater.

The track that continues on to Somerset from there winds across headlands and down onto beaches. A couple we met at the turtle beach camp came by and stopped for a chat and informed us the track was very tight in places and it would be hard for us to get through. With this information on board, we decided to back track and get to Somerset by the main road. Glad we came this way to have a look.

Somerset, the site of a former cattle station and the first administrative centre at Cape York established in 1864 by John Jardine, who the river is named after.

There is a camp site on the beach, which we called into. A beautiful spot with mangroves at each end of the beach and Albany Island not far away.