Tasmania - Decision Time
April 15-25, #33
Triabunna ~ Spring Bay in late Fall
After an amazing week on Maria Island, we returned to our Warm Showers host to retrieve our gear and decided to spend a few more days in Triabunna at the Caravan Park to assess our options. Our original plan was to continue up the East Coast, over to Derby, Launceston and then back to Devonport to figure out a base camp and do some backpacking. However, each morning we were reminded the seasons were changing, and soon the winter weather the locals advised us to avoid would be upon us.
Recalculating…
The time had come to attempt contacting Immigration by phone to see if we could get answers to the questions we had been mulling over. Despite our best efforts to wrap-up our lives in the States there was now more than one thing to take care of in person before next year. We had checked the box on our initial application to be able to leave Australia within the year, but learned that didn’t stop the clock. To extend our visa, we would have to apply again near the end of our current visa for another year. Having already spent almost half our year in Tassie, we reluctantly decided to head inland and booked our ferry back to Geelong for May 12th, still undecided about when to make a trip home. For the remainder of our visa, we would head North on the mainland following the warmer weather. At least for now, the Northeast corner of Tassie and our backpacking trips would have to wait.
Faced with re-charting our final leg to Devonport, after covering more than half of the circumference of Tassie, we were both feeling the need to get off the beaten tracks, out of the caravan parks and tourist destinations, to just explore a bit of the unknown. Nivaun put together a route into the Buxton & Tooms River Forest Reserves giving us 3 days to wander the forests on back roads much like the routes through our own backyard on the Olympic Peninsula. From there, we would travel across the Midlands on country roads through small historic townships to Devonport.
Southern Glow
The one thing we had yet to see before leaving the coast was - the Southern Lights. In Fairbanks, where we started almost a year ago, we saw the Northern Lights for the first time together, standing atop a hill in thigh-deep snow above Chena Hot Springs. Once we reached the South of Tassie, Nivaun had been checking the forecasts, and finally our last night in Triabunna showed some promise. Close to midnight, we headed down to the shoreline searching the sky - all that appeared was a faint glow on the horizon, but the camera lens revealed enough for us to say we had now seen the lights in both hemispheres.
Gum Leaves
After spending 5 days off the bike, we decided to keep our first ride short before embarking on to forest roads, and found a campground not far off the main road. As we passed the entry sign, we were amazed to find the number of venues around the sizable park - it was like a kid’s summer camp mecca with deer, horses, birds, pigs, chickens, more than one swimming hole with water craft, an obstacle course, playground, tennis courts, and cabins surrounding the perimeter.
There were just a couple caravans in the campground allowing us to pick our own spot below the dam under the trees. Nivaun was still hoping to catch more of the Southern Lights that night, now that we were away from town. In the clearing above the dam, they magically appeared once more.
The next morning we still wanted to wander the park and decided to stay one more night. After visiting the deer and horses, we met the family camping next to us, and their son, who had been riding his BMX up and down the hillside next to us. Nivaun quickly realized the bike was in serious need of an overhaul and offered to “fix” the brakes; even I noticed they were sitting perpendicular to the rim. A few more tweaks, and the son was ecstatic, his mom relieved, commenting, “Santa must of been in a rush when he put that one together”.
As the temperatures continued to drop and the night sky cleared, we decided to make our own campfire for the first time, finally putting our Firebox to use, not only to cook dinner, but also to warm our hands over morning coffee. Another sign fall was slipping away and winter creeping in.
Goldilocks Syndrome & the Ant
The next day we said good-bye to the main road following the eastern coastline and turned inward to weave through the farmland and disappear into the forest. We felt the instant relief of no longer looking over our shoulders for the next oncoming truck or caravan and began to just soak in the sites, smells and sounds around us. After a cyclist’s favorite snack break, PBnJT, we started scanning the road sides for potential campsites.
The first pullout we looked at was too damp, another was too rocky. Not finding the ideal spot, we decided to just keep looking ~ which is of course, when the pullouts disappeared. After several more kilometers of dense bush and steep slopes, dusk was approaching and our regret growing, realizing assumptions in unfamiliar terrain never end well. We started to rationalize camping at the edge of the road when finally…a Tooms Lake Conservation sign appeared up ahead with a sizable pullout and abandon track heading away from the road. It was “just right” - and just in time, as the sun quickly left the sky.
We busied ourselves setting up camp as usual, until Nivaun heard me screeching from inside the tent, “something is biting me!” I was frantically trying to pull off my sweats without getting bit a third time. Whatever it was had first stung my butt, and as I tried to get my sweats back off, managed to attack my finger, and then latched itself to the inside of my pants. Nivaun had to work to pull off what looked to be either a Bull ant or a Jack Jumper. As I sat there in disbelief, Nivaun feared whether I would have any allergic reactions. Thankfully, none developed. I took a Benadryl and tried to ignore the throbbing in my finger and buttock. Of all the things to happen deep in the forest, in the dark with no cell reception - Ants in the Pants?! Really?? I surmised the bugger must of been packed away when we left camp that morning and was pretty pissed off about being stuffed in a pannier all day.
The next morning, what I thought would be somewhat like a mosquito bite, was now an itchy, red, dime-sized lump. I was just grateful I could still sit on my saddle.
Water Quest
On our many back country trips in the US, using maps, weather and trip reports, we were always able to find water. However, in Tassie it was proving to be more of a challenge.
Whether hiking or biking we try to top off our bottles with filtered water wherever we can, so if the unexpected happens, and we have to stop, water is not our first concern. Although we still had enough to stretch our water until Lake Leake, it had become a quest to simply find any suitable water source, preferably moving, or at least bigger than a puddle.
Thus far every nearby creek on the map had been dry, even though the bush was dense and green. Just ahead of us, the map showed another one that was supposed to cross the road. As we searched around on both sides to no avail, I noticed what looked like a paddy lying in the middle of the road a few meters ahead. On a hunch that it had attempted to cross the road at the “wrong” time after visiting the creek, I decided to check it out. And there it was - a small pool several feet below the road. On the other side it was barely visible from underneath the brush and trees. Sadly, paddies, even in what should be their home range, were still victims of speed.
After collecting just enough to top off our bottles, we rode into the Tooms Lake Forest Reserve and saw the lake far off in the valley, out of reach. Further along, we descended to the valley floor, where we were supposed to be riding through a vast section of swamp, but from what we could see grasses now covered the area and only small pockets of stagnant water remained. After stopping for a late lunch break, we decided to look around for a camp spot and setup before dark, giving us time to enjoy our surrounds, toast Jessica’s memorial and watch the sun paint the forest in a golden glow.
Before dawn, logging trucks were barreling up and down the road we had traveled. Fortunately, our route was now taking us on a side road heading to Lake Leake and the edges of civilization. A short distance up the track we came to a section of the Macquarie River that was probably not too far from its’ headwaters, near Tooms Lake. It was mostly choked off by debris just above the abandoned bridge, reduced to standing pools of water that trailed off into puddles between the rocks. A puzzling site to see, for a river that continues on for 117 miles through the Midlands.
Just as the road grade went beyond our abilities for probably the last time in Tassie, we arrived at the intersection to a gated fly fishing/birding Retreat center. Resigned to pushing each other up the hill, we watched SUVs filled with freshly showered guests in town clothes pass us by, leaving their “retreat” at the same time we were leaving ours - ironic. As the dust settled behind them, the road was again our own to enjoy the last few hours riding amongst the birds and the trees before reaching the main highway and cell reception in time to secure a spot at the campground on Lake Leake.
We headed across the highway, onto the side road to the lake, and found an Inn with a pub, a pup and a friendly fishing community to help ease our transition back onto the beaten path.
