Tasmania - Weather Rules — Journey's Flow

January 29-February 3, #21

Lake King William - *looking a bit drained*

Lake King William Respite

Within less than 8 hours we had been transported from the hillsides drenched in rain to a lake-front campsite watching the sun paint the clouds as it sunk below the horizon. We had the area to ourselves and decided to bask in the warmth another day before moving on. From Derwent Bridge, we now had several roads to choose from - at this point the direct route to Hobart on the Lyell intersects with roads from the North and the East connecting smaller towns in the central Lakes region to the highway. Nivaun had mapped an off-road route after talking with some of the people we met in Queenstown but knowing we had other options with places to explore left us undecided.

Leaving camp on our regular schedule, we decided to stop at the “Hungry Wombat” cafe for lunch. On the way we pulled into the roadside rest area to check out the sign boards and met a man taking his Dad to see “The Wall”. Also a cyclist, he gave us a convincing recommendation on another route that he described as scenic with minimal hills and plenty of spots to camp along the lakes in that area.

Letting the Trail be our Guide

It felt great to be back on our bikes rolling through the landscape under our own power at a pace that allowed us to soak in the scenery. The skies were again partly cloudy giving us occasional breaks from the intensity of the sun as we cruised along the bitumen shoulder. No longer in the dense rain forest, the undergrowth became noticeably sparse and the dominant trees changed over to pine, creating a sense of familiarity, as if we had left the Cascades and were now traveling through Eastern Oregon.

After 25 kilometers, we reached the turnoff to the route Nivaun had mapped. Still undecided about whether to abandon this route and follow our newest recommendation, it was time for another flip of the coin - trusting fate to be our guide. We pulled back onto the highway to follow our newest recommendation.

Bronte Lagoon - Center of Tasmania

In another 8 kilometers, we arrived at Bronte Lagoon and decided to take a break at the road-side picnic area before deciding where to camp. This spot also happened to be the Geographical Center of Tasmania. After spending the last two months exploring the West Coast, we had officially entered the central region, exactly 3 months to the day after starting our journey to Australia - breaking the record for our longest cycling trip.

A few minutes later, a car pulled over and out jumped our Spanish neighbors from the caravan park in Queenstown to join our celebration, and give us fresh strawberries. As they left, we were still undecided on where to look for a campsite. Just ahead was the turnoff to our chosen route, where we would have to take our chances finding a spot, or we could back track a couple kilometers to the Bronte Lagoon free camping area. Not finding a reasonable spot near the monument, with another flip of the coin, we back tracked to the free camp.

As we walked the perimeter of the campground area looking for a level spot, Nivaun noticed a man sitting in front of his tent fiddling with a broken tent pole. Instantly, Nivaun sprang into action, returning with his repair kit. In a matter of minutes, he had the tent pole repaired and his audience in awe. A few minutes later, we had cold beers in hand and continued chatting with him and his son about gear and adventures. It wasn’t until well after sunset that we finally sat down to make dinner. The next morning, we were of course on target to be the last of the campers leaving the area and had a nice chat with an older couple still out traveling and fishing as they had done for many years.

Dee Lagoon Refuge

After backtracking to the gravel road turnoff and riding a few kilometers up the hill, there were no obvious places to camp, reinforcing our coin flip decision the night before was the right choice, even more so because it gave us the opportunity to help out fellow travelers. Many more rolling and not so rolling hills later, the forest had been fenced off on both sides, leading us to question whether we would be able to find a place to camp. But after 15 kms, Dee Lagoon came into view through the trees, and up ahead a blue campground sign pointed down a gravel road.

As we passed by a Hydro sign instructing users on campground etiquette, our attention was drawn to the strange beauty of the lagoon dotted with rotting tree stands surrounding a small island and a mossy wetland lining the banks. On the opposite side of the camping area was a water catchment ramp and dam used to regulate the water levels based on Hydro’s demands. What we weren’t expecting to see was the vile display of trash and TP wads with human waste scattered all along the edges of the camping area. It was disturbing to say the least. Grateful to find there was still a reasonable spot next to the lake under the mature Eucalypts, free of biohazards, we setup camp and spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing under the magnificent trees with the campground all to ourselves.

Pepperoni Intoxicant

Just before dusk, the wind picked up to the point we decided to take refuge in front of the tent to make our pizza dinner. Little did we know how enticing the residual pepperoni smell would be to furry critters lurking in their burrows just waiting for nightfall.

Nivaun was still locking up the bikes for the night, and the Quolls couldn’t wait any longer. They burst on to the scene full of curiosity, zipping back and forth all around our tent, excited by the smells, and I think just generally full of themselves. It was hilarious to watch them dart back and forth, jumping erratically like cats on too much catnip. Our food and trash was stored in scent bags inside our panniers, so we set our bike alarms, just to be sure they weren’t raided during the night.

Summer Weather ~ Tasmanian-style

By now, we were well accustomed to monitoring the weather apps every morning and watched closely as “Severe Weather Warnings” were issued for the surrounding area. The prediction was for wind gusts up to 100-110km an hour starting Thursday mid-day and subsiding by Friday afternoon. It was clear we had no choice but to ride it out. Once again, we were grateful that our decisions up to this point had put us in an ideal place. If we had taken the other off-road route we would have been closer to the heart of the storm, where the winds were far worse than what we experienced.

After we relocated the tent away from the trees, I felt compelled to clean up what I could of the campground trash. Fortunately, our host in Gormie had given us a couple trash bags to keep our gear dry. We circled the campground picking up whatever wasn’t a biohazard, including a couple of tires and then posted on WikiCamps asking that someone do the “right” thing and take it to a Tip (rubbish collection center). As the winds picked up we were glad to have bagged what we could before it blew into the lake. Nuf said.

And so we found ourselves waiting out another of nature’s gales, as it bent the tree tops sideways, sent the bushes waving to and fro, rattled our senses, and chilled our bones, our tent still remained steadfast and indestructible. It wasn’t until late Friday afternoon that the wind finally stopped - a sense of calm and body warmth restored. We were amazed at our luck, to have taken this route and found a protected place out from under the trees. A bikepacker we had met in Queenstown texted us during the storm to let us know he had tried to push on after leaving Hobart and been blown off the road into the gravel, thankfully with no other injuries than road rash, he was able to camp in the yard of a nearby resident.

Tasmania - Weather Rules