Tasmania - Back for More!
November 28 - December 1, #9
On the road walk back through Sisters, before we knew our host was coming to rescue us, I couldn’t imagine getting back on the bike the very next day.
By morning, it was decided, we were staying another day. After ambling down the hill for a cafe breakfast by the sea, we took a short walk down the road to what would have been our exit point and did a bit of an explore. The track was covered in chunky granite rock, overhead a white granite spire rose up above the bush, underneath a few pademelon were still out grazing, tempting us to go further. A short ways up, the track dropped down on to a small section of white sandy beach covered in shells, and then picked up again on the other side heading into the forest. Of course now we couldn’t resist seeing what else lie up ahead.
Postman’s Track
Start of Postman’s Track with our host setting the pace
Surprisingly, our host offered not only to shuttle us back up to the start of the track in Sisters, but also to walk with us up to a local landmark before leaving us to explore (warily confident that with only 3 miles to cover and the entire afternoon, we should be back this time, before dark).
The track traversed the ridge weaving in and out of Eucalyptus forests, then dropped to just above the rocky shoreline and at about the half-way point almost disappeared in the grassy meadows leaving just a faint line to side-hill back into the forest and down to another rocky section of shoreline. I cant imagine a more spectacular coastal-postal route to travel on horseback.
This time the only wildlife we found was a small lizard curled up in the leaves at the edge of the trail and a brief glimpse of a Sea Eagle high up in the canopy. It was almost 6pm when we arrived back at Boat Harbour, feeling satisfied that we made it back before dusk and left nothing unexplored.
We gave ourselves another day to upload photos and update our blog in the cozy studio. Our side-trip to escape the rain for a couple days, had magically turned into an unplanned resort excursion, thanks to our amazing host and the most scenic perch we could not of imagined.
From Boots to Pedals
The next day - the sky cleared, tracks explored, cafe sampled, beach walked - the only thing left undone was to ride the hill back to the highway and continue on.
The shoulder remained just wide enough to safely transport us to the other end of Rocky Cape National Park, and then all but disappeared, right as we approached the only road-side caravan park before Stanley. It was a 180 from our last accommodation but fit into our evolving plan perfectly. Nivaun had found a back road route just a few miles ahead that would take us the rest of the way into Stanley. Certain that we would need a full day to tackle the hills and unknown terrain, our plan was to start early the following day.
After finding a secluded tent spot next to the creek at the back of the property, we had time to sample a bottle of wine from the bottleshop, took a wander along the creek, and then ordered dinner from the backyard patio. Another stop perfectly suited to our present needs.
Over the Hills and through the Woods to Stanley
Ready for a day of the unknown, we packed up and headed out on the no-shoulder highway to our back road turn-off. We hesitated only briefly at the corner before continuing on a well-graded gravel road that meandered between cattle farms back into the surrounding hills. A much welcome change from watching over our shoulders every few minutes for the next oncoming Dairy truck, Caravan or Ute.
We cruised along at a reasonable pace past the farms and into our first managed forests, or plantations, as they are called. Atop our first set of climbs, it was early afternoon when we entered a clear-cut area and decided to take a snack break and call ahead to the caravan park in Stanley to make sure we could arrive after hours. At the next intersection, a brief dilemma over whether we could continue on our back-roads route and arrive before dark, or needed to save time and detour back to the highway. We of course, continued on, preferring the gravel climbs, trees and bird song over the bitumen, guard rails and road noise. It wasn’t until we crossed paths with a local cyclist driving by on his way home from work that we discovered we were heading into a section of rainforest and old growth trees to marvel at while we pushed each other up the longest/steepest hillside before reemerging atop the hill at the edge of sprawling farmland. Feeling exhilarated that we could once again see the Nut, now looming on the near horizon, indicating Stanley was only a few miles away - in reality it was still about 13kms with many rolling farmland hills to go.
Unwelcome Hitch-hiker
One of the small-town cultural adjustments we are still trying to master is the operating hours for any shop - grocery, pharmacy, retail, restaurant included. We intended to resupply in Stanley, having run out of our reserves with an extended stay in Boat Harbour. Grocery stores were now becoming increasingly sparse further West. Unsure whether we would make it to Stanley before restaurants and the only grocery store closed, we were pleasantly surprised to ride up on a small corner grocery store atop another hill in a rural town called, Forest.
After doing a quick reconnaissance lap inside the store, I reemerged with one question - “which ice cream bar do you want to try?” After that was sorted and in our hands, ready to be inhaled. I went back into gather a few essentials for dinner and breakfast, leaving the rest to sort out once we were in Stanley. Relieved to have a sugar boost for the last few hills and meals in our bag, we were about to mount up, when I saw a sizable eight-legged creature crawl out from under the shoulder strap on Nivaun’s backpack. Not knowing what type of arachnid it was, evoked more fear, than its appearance.
Huntsman Spider
Nivaun hurriedly began to brush it off his pack as I squealed “Don’t touch it, don’t touch it!”. It scurried to the safety of the wall and sat there - probably as confused as we were about where it was and why? After a frantic Google search, we were fairly confident it was a Huntsman’s spider - not deadly, but not one to get between your clothes and a backpack for sure. Relieved it had decided to make itself known, and not go along for the ride to Stanley, we departed. Myself even more relieved to know we had booked a room and not a tent spot for the next couple days - as if that made a difference.
After finally crossing the highway, we were now on the final stretch of mostly flat road heading out onto the spit leading into Stanley, and at the end of the road, the Nut. Nivaun spotted a section of walking track between the road and the bay, so we side-stepped over to the track and followed it out to the shoreline and up to the caravan park entrance just before 7pm.
We happily moved in to our cozy room with just enough space to store our bikes and gear, so we could explore the area over the next couple days.
But before we could get too comfy, another hitch-hiker raced out of one of our panniers and up the side of the couch - almost as big and just as unwelcome. After quickly dispatching it to the lawn outside, we realized they must have come aboard on the last grueling hill in the forest that we had to push-a-bike up; more than once leaving our bikes and Nivaun’s pack pushed up against the berm or laying in the brush.
Well, whether they liked it or not, one was now a resident of Stanley and the other the outlying town of Forest. We speculated over whether they might have been a “couple”, and then Nivaun jokingly remarked, “if they were, we probably saved his life!”