Tasmania - All in Good Time

December 28-31, #15

First Impressions

Over breakfast, the clouds began to drizzle, a beach-type mist, but it never lasted long enough to warrant wearing our PNW rain gear for more than a few minutes. We rejoined the gravel road just a few kilometers before reaching the intersection with the Balfour track leading to the coast. We had heard that track can be a mud bog and from what we could see at the intersection it was indeed - confirming our decision to head inland at Couta Rocks probably saved us some undesirable slogging up that track.

Continuing on, we started to realize the Western Explorer was actually quite impressive - it was more than two car lengths wide, giving us plenty of room to navigate when a car, ute, or caravan brigade passed by. The grade was manageable, the descents rewarding, and the 360 views of wilderness felt never-ending. Riding under the comfort of a could-laden sky, I discovered my perfect Tasmanian riding temperature, 15c. Rounding each corner began to feel like riding across an oil-painted canvas - every treetop highlighted in flashes of new growth, looked like paint-brush dabs of the brightest green, and across the hillsides dots of white outlined the flowering bushes scattered along the hillsides.

Lindsay River

It seemed too soon to stop for the day when we arrived at Lindsay River, the first of our three water sources. But the timing turned out to be in our favor. After setting up camp, filtering water and exploring the river, we had just enough time to take our own showers, before the ones from the sky settled in, continuing off an on at a steadier pace throughout the night.

Leaving Lindsay, we weren’t sure what to expect of the weather, the terrain and attempting to ride the 30km to the next river in one go. Nivaun decided to bring the remaining filtered water after filling all our bottles that morning just in case. The forecast indicated more rain was coming, but as we had experienced thus far, the rain fall was a cloud-by-cloud gamble - some let go and others would pass us by. I was just thankful we had another day of clouds holding back the intensity of the sun.

Ahead of us the hill tops were starting to take on a mountainous demeanor appearing both inviting and formidable. Within a few kilometers, the road reflected exactly what was ahead of us - a never-ending string of winding, rolling ascents with grades that quickly began to defy our will and ability to independently push our way to the tops. And if that wasn’t enough, the frequency of the water-laden cloud, accompanied by gusts of wind in our face, added a grim element that apparently made us look as though we might be in need of assistance. Almost every other vehicle that came upon us while we were pushing a bike, asked if we needed anything - giving us some reassurance that the motorists were considering our well being from inside their temperature-controlled environment.

By late afternoon, we were only half way to our next water source, Donaldson River. The storm was intensifying, as was our angst for finding a reasonable spot to camp. Nivaun had found a river, named Leigh, on the map that was supposed to be nearby, but as we passed, nothing was visible. Feeling more desperate, I began the last-ditch mantra - “please, give us a spot atop the next hill, please…” - repeating it with each pedal stroke. Unbelievably, as we crested the hill, the width of the road doubled - not only was there room alongside, there was a small rise high enough we could camp above the road.

Granite Hill Top Oasis

Nivaun managed to pound the stakes in between the granite rocks (with more than a few expletives) and setup the guy lines while I dove in the tent to setup our “house” before the next wave of wind and rain kicked in. All was coming together just in time, until I realized Nivaun’s mattress wasn’t holding air. He quickly identified the source - the tab on the intake valve had somehow fallen off inside the mattress. Within minutes, he was back inside the tent with a new tab from his repair kit, a few minutes more, it was as good as new. Wow - I guess we were actually prepared for anything…

Once we were both in the tent, dry and getting cozy, we decided the situation was dire enough to warrant using one of our two “emergency meals” so we could simply boil water and eat. As the wind gusts grew more violent and the rain pelted the ground all around us - our little home stood firm against it all. Needless to say, one of us didn’t get much sleep. I lay awake most of the night listening to the tent defend us against the elements - ever so grateful that we decided to invest in a Hilleberg. We weren’t on Everest, but it sure felt like a solid trial run.

The next day, the storm had worn down to intermittent bouts giving us a chance to reemerge for short intervals, but we agreed that morning, it was better to conserve our water by staying put. This was our second time under “weather quarantine” after riding out the thunderstorm in Smithton, which had given us the opportunity to discover how “comfy” we could be in our tent. After years of perfecting the contents of our “house on wheels” - we had a bed with a quilt, lounge chairs, a stove with a grill, a fireplace/firebox, a shower, a wash bag - the only thing we were missing was a couch - that is until we realized our bed could be folded into a futon of sorts by propping it up against the wall of the tent. Magically, we had a place to kick back and watch the storm clouds roll on by. Not a bad way to spend a day inside, whilst outside.

Late afternoon, we noticed a car had parked just aways behind us and from what we could see they looked to be putting on loaded backpacks. Curious where they would be hiking from this lone spot atop an expanse of dense bush and hills in all directions, we had to go find out. It was a group of five heading out on an orienteering trip over the holiday. After telling them about the storm the night before, they were glad to have been delayed a day to start their trek. We watched them load up and step over the waist-high brush-covered berm walking out into an expanse as if they were casually starting up a trailhead. It was refreshing to finally meet some backpackers and filled us with thoughts of all the hikes we hoped to take before leaving Tassie.

The next morning, the cloud pattern finally looked to be breaking up giving us enough of a window to pack up dry and head for Donaldson. By now, we knew what to expect with every bend, another hill to climb - at least this time without the threat of rain and wind gusts.

Donaldson River ~ an Unexpected NYE

If anyone had asked me where we would be at the end of 2023 - I could not of envisioned being camped alongside the Western Explorer at Donaldson River in Tasmania, but that is exactly where we found ourselves after our first year of traveling under our own power. It felt surreal. We continued to wonder when this new reality would sink in - our longest trip had been 2.5 months in 2022 riding from Washington to Wyoming and Utah. Our official 2023 start in Alaska was cut short after only 6 weeks. Now just shy of two months riding/living in Australia, I still had to remind myself this was for the long-term, not a trip that would end in a few weeks time.

The rhythm of the daily traffic on this side of the Pieman River, we surmised, was somewhat dictated by the operating hours of the barge at Corinna because the road went quiet every evening around 6 or 7, and then picked up again around 7 or 8 in the morning. We happened to notice the last couple vehicles pass and then heard nothing for about an hour, until the sound of crunching gravel was undeniable and heading toward us from up the hill. The only logical reason we could come up with was maybe they were going to the river to fish, or maybe this time, someone other than us actually did need help.

As it turned out, it was the latter. A young woman had come to let us know they were atop the hill having transmission trouble, and wanted to know if we were planning to reach a town the next day and would notify someone they needed a tow. Even though we had discovered a couple bars of service at our hill-top camp two nights before, road signs warned motorists of no cell service along the Western Explorer, not even in Corinna. They were concerned, since it was New Years Eve, no one would be traveling the road the next day or longer. Although we doubted that would be the case, we assured her we would reach Corinna the next day and check for reception as we rode. Nivaun offered to come take a look at the engine as well, but she thanked us, and started back up the hill.

With no other “plans” for our New Years evening, we decided to walk across the bridge and up the hill that was waiting for us on the other side, to see if maybe we could get reception at the top. After walking around two bends, the canopy of trees still far above our heads, we realized the hill was not ending and neither was the tree line, and retreated back to the bridge.

Looking over the edge into the dark depths of the tannin-stained water, I was mesmerized by the bubbles swirling around the eddy, where the river had carved out a deep pool, before flowing around the bend and off into the wilds of the forest. Just then, I noticed a small figure leaving a trail of bubbles behind it, before it briefly disappeared. When it resurfaced, I couldn’t believe we had happened upon a Platypus. Nivaun even managed to get a few photos before it rounded the bend. Delighted with our New Years find - we decided to turn-in so we could get an early start and hopefully help the stranded couple find a rescue.

But our New Years Eve was not over…

From the darkness, we again heard footsteps crunching through the gravel until they stopped just outside our tent. This time it was the woman’s other half - letting us know they were indeed stranded. As we talked through the tent wall, scrambling to get ourselves presentable again, we emerged from the tent just as his wife joined him. We began a casual get-to-know each other chat, like two couples meeting up for an evening out in town, only we were standing tent-side, swapping travel stories under the night sky. I was thinking it was odd how their misfortune had made for us an enjoyable, chance meeting. And then, before leaving, they surprised us by sharing sparklers with us, so we could properly wish each other a Happy New Year! Definitely, 2023 NYE was one we will not forget.

The next morning, they returned while we were still packing up to let us know after the engine cooled over night, it roared to life. Their plan now was to gun it back to the nearest town with services to get more transmission fluid, and then try to continue on from there back to Devonport. They thanked us for simply being there to help them stay calm through a stressful night.

Right when we were about to start across the bridge, we looked up the hill behind us to see a fast-moving vehicle heading towards us with no signs of slowing down. We waved them on as they shot by us and up the hill on the other side. In just a few minutes, another car came by and let us know they were following them to make sure they made it safely.

Relieved they were back on the road, we crossed the bridge and began our push up the hill. Unsure where we would be the next night, but knowing wherever it was, it would be exactly where we were meant to be. Welcome 2024 - living life a moment at a time and not a second too soon!