A Tasmanian Requiem (the north Tarkine to Penguin and Launceston)

It was a pity we didn’t have more time to spend in such an idyllic place dear reader. It was also a pity that we didn’t sleep better because we were up at 5:00am to commence the tent pack down before breakfast at 5:30am and a scheduled walk out of camp at 7:00am.

The good news was our guides eased up on the breakfast this morning and Dave and I passed on the porridge. We made good with a cup of tea and our last bite-sized cherry ripe and a muesli bar. After all we were only walking 8km today. Too easy.

Available in green.

Everyone was ready to depart camp at 7:00am however the sun was still not up and it would not be a great idea to ford Eastons Creek in the semi darkness. While we waited for the light our guides talked to us about the Palawa people and their enduring connection to the land. They also spoke of the ‘black wars’ in Tasmania. Like most other parts of the country, the black wars and fightback of the first inhabitants was down played and often dismissed as myth. And like other parts of the country, this is absolutely untrue

Also in purple.

The local aboriginals fought hard for their land and the battles are chronicled in The Black War by Nicholas Clements. It saddens me that in 2026, Australia as a country still cannot own its past. Today’s title represents a 2018 musical piece composed by Tasmanian Helen Thomson. The piece features nine movements telling the story of Tasmania’s past and the fifth movement, The Black War, features Palawa voices crying “Parrawa! Parrawa!” (“Go away! Go away!”).

The Eastons Creek ford.

By 7:30am, the light was strong enough for our first of three water crossings for the day, thankfully with boots on since the ford at Eastons Creek was only metres from our camp. The track winding back to forestry trail where we would meet the bus was, as usual, fundulating and mostly on tracks wide enough to walk two abreast. Of course, there were the usual obstacles of fallen trees and some parts of the track were severely overgrown. At one point we followed a Bastian Thrush up the road. The wildlife increased the further we were from the rainforest.

The second river crossing was at the Lyons River. While all of us ditched boots for our sandals and reef shoes, Lani suddenly appeared on the other side of the waterway fully booted having found an easier section to cross further upstream.

Upskirting was sanctioned in the Tarkine.

Once we had dried and reassembled our footwear we walked for another hour along the same kind of undulating track before hitting the final river crossing of the trip. Here, we recrossed the Arthur – the same river we had crossed on our first day. While we had been spared the rain, the upper limits of the river had not. It was wide and flowing much faster than when we crossed it on the first day. Definitely boots off. Again.

The final crossing.

As we crossed the river, three wedge-tailed eagles could be seen circling and climbing ever higher in on air currents. Usually only seen hunting in pairs, we assumed the third was a young bird being trained by its parents. Shortly after, a small flock of yellow tailed black cockatoos, Mangana, made an appearance. They greeted Dave and I on our first morning and were now bidding us farewell. This was goodbye from Palawa elders who had looked after us throughout the week and gifted us a wonderful experience.

Boots back on, we walked the remaining 500m to the waiting bus. Lunch today would be at the Penguin Tap House. Beer and burgers in the perfect sunshine. What an excellent way to finish our trip.

About to head to Penguin for lunch (and a beer).

It was a 2 hour drive back to Launnie to our hotel where a hot shower awaited. We did a couple of loads of washing and headed down stairs to the restaurant for dinner. A comfortable bed and crisp white sheets ensured we slept well. Not even the bells on the nearby church could keep us awake.

The flight home was uneventful, except for the trackwork in Sydney which forced Dave to take not one, not two, but three trains, once we were back in Sydney.

Another trekking adventure over, we are already planning for next year.

Weather: blue skies and sunshine.

Distance covered: 7.9km.

Total distance: 63.6km

Until next time.

The Road to Nowhere (Launceston to Penguin to the north Tarkine)

We were up at 6am to ensure we started the day with a pie and sausage roll from Banjo’s. There was a very sad and crumpled someone sitting in the corner, head on table, looking very much the worse for wear, dark hair spread out before them like a congealed oil spill. The brekky pie would provide sustenance for the long walk ahead, for us at least. I’m not sure how person in the corner faced the rest of the day.

Dave got a small sausage roll as he isn’t one for breakfast on a good day. I settled for a pie and was accidentally served a singular party pie by the youth behind the counter. A second party pie was purchased to bring me closer to full pie. It was not the same. Ah well, next time.

Pick up on Sunday morning was 7:30am. We were downstairs, checking out from the hotel when we saw the bus parked in the drive. As we moved towards it, it drove off. We would have been out earlier had we not needed to discuss storing our luggage at the hotel while we were in the Tarkine. I had assumed storage of our one bag would not be a problem, since we would be returning to stay at the same hotel for our last night before we headed home. Incorrect. The Sebel Launceston does not store luggage. I have never encountered this before. Anywhere in the world.

Somewhat annoyed we dragged our gear out to the driveway to await the return of the bus. While we were enjoying the fresh morning air, a flock of yellow-tailed black cockatoos flew south. I regard Mangana, the yellow-tailed black cockatoo, as my totem and see it as a sign of good fortune. Apparently the Palawa people view the cockatoo as a messenger, guardian or ancestral spirit. It was an excellent way to begin our trek.

The penguin in Penguin.

After we had picked up the remainder of the group, we drove to Penguin. Coffee for us, shopping for supplies for our guides. The penguin in Penguin was sporting the same shirt as last year which makes sense, given it was almost a year to the day since we were there. We did not have a lot of time so I broke one of my life rules and ordered take-away coffee in a sippy cup. I know, dear reader, I am ashamed, but it was going to be my last real coffee for a week.

No idea, pretty and it didn't bite me.

Back on the bus, we headed for the middle of nowhere. More precisely, a fire or forestry trail in the middle of nowhere. As our guides explained, there were very few map reference points to show where we were going. The walk would take us in a rough horseshoe shape from the drop off point, through parts of the north Tarkine, back onto the forestry trail a little further south. It looked impressive on the map and in retrospect, looks even more impressive on my Strava flyover. The predicted weather was variable but it all ended in rain at some point. Well, it is a rain forest.

All set.

After final instructions and the careful placement of the food bags, we donned our packs. Before I commenced walking, I grabbed a handful of dirt and let it trickle through my fingers as I introduced myself to the Palawa Old People. I was introduced to this by an Aboriginal guide in Purnululu (the Bungle Bungles) and have continued the practice whenever walking.

The final pack.

Our packs weighed somewhere beyond 15kg but the guides were carrying much more. We left the trail for wet sclerophyll forest (see, I did pay attention in Science class in Year 10) and our first river crossing; the Arthur River. It was too deep to ford in our boots so we swapped them for sandals or reef shoes. On the other side we dried off and put our boots back on. Within half an hour they were off again to cross the Keith River.

Dave crossing the Arthur River.

Eventually we ended up back on the forestry road and had a long steep climb before we entered the rain forest proper; a cool, temperate rainforest. The sounds of birds and water across rocks were about the only sounds we heard beyond our own chatter as the group got to know each other. And then … engines. Hard to define at first, perhaps a helicopter or some 4wd vehicles in the distance.

There were hives everywhere.

Then they appeared. About four people on dirt bikes, followed by three 4wd buggies. The last contained the grandparents of the group. Nanna was swigging from a can of bourbon and coke. Allegedly. Not what we expected to see or hear out here in the Tasmanian wilderness. About 30 minutes later, they passed us again returning from whence they came, never to be sighted again.

It as we climbed the forestry trail that I began to hum The Road to Nowhere by Talking Heads from 1985. One of our group heard me and quipped that was she how she felt at the moment. We had been climbing on  the trail for some time.

Coral fungus.

It did not take long to reach the campsite after we left the trail. Awaiting us were some small tent sites and two tarps strung from the trees that would serve as shelter for the kitchen and for us to sit and chat and eat.

The first camp site.

Given the remote nature of where we were, toileting is obviously an issue. I shall explain this only once. Any tree can be a lavatory or lavatree. Ah, bush humour. For more substantial needs there was a trench away from the camp. It was limited so one needed to be mindful of usage. A spade across the path denoted occupancy.

A sight that became very familiar.

It had been a long day for everyone and the listed distance of 7km was well off target according to Strava and my Apple watch. As usual, once the sun went down, it was time for bed.

Fungi came in all shapes and colours.

Weather: humid, cloudy, no rain.

Distance covered: 13.2km

Until tomorrow.

 

I've done all the dumb things (Sydney, Launceston, Penguin, Rocky Cape and Stanley)

It's that time of year again, you know, when just lying in bed thinking about the day ahead makes you break into a sweat, dear reader. Ah, Sydney humidity, you are not my friend. What to do? Head for Tasmania and another trek with Trek Tours Australia. We, Dave and I, loved the Larapinta experience so much last year, we decided to join them on an exploration of the the Tarkine in north-west Tassie. A much cooler option.

A security guard at the airport asked me a question I'd never been asked previously, as I dropped my bag to go through the x-ray machine ... "Do you have metal hips or knees?" "Sorry?" I replied. Question repeated. Ah, no. He directed me to the body scanner. Ageist!

Just to mess with my brain, Qantas surprised us by having the plane leave on schedule and arrive on time in Launceston, just after the Virgin flight touched down, which made for a very crowded luggage collection area. Interestingly the airport people thought having all the luggage from both flights being unloaded on to the same carousel would provide some Friday afternoon amusement. They tired of that quickly enough and moved all the Qantas people to a different (the other) carousel. 30 minutes later we were in a taxi and heading for the city.

The 'fixed' price fee proved not so fixed and there was a surcharge that wasn't listed on the information at the airport. So, $39 magically became $49. We will be using Uber for the return journey.

The Grand Chancellor Hotel is, well, grand. It is just a place to sleep before our 7:30am pick up tomorrow. A quick search of places to eat for dinner, and cafés that would allow us to purchase food prior to 7am and we were off to reconnoitre the neighbourhood. Dinner at the Schnitty Bar was more than passable and then it was back to the hotel.

Banjos Bakery was one of the few places open, where we could get breakfast. A mere five minute walk from the hotel. A brekky pie and "traditional sausage roll" for breakfast. Worth the walk and popular with the locals even at 6:30am.

Back at the hotel, we waited for the Trek guides and met a couple of fellow travellers. On the bus we did the rounds of a couple of other hotels to pick up the remainder of our group. We are 9 in total plus 2 guides. As we wended our way up the hill out of Launceston, I realised I had left my phone (with all my cards) in the foyer of the hotel. Hence today's title, Paul Kelly from 1987. Dave made a quick phone call and my phone was soon secured and living in the hotel safe.

Dr Who visits Penguin.

First stop was Penguin for supplies and coffee. A beautiful little town on the coast, the locals are obviously proud of its name - there were penguins everywhere. Not the live variety, paintings and statues. They even had a tardis. The coffee at the Post Office or Letterbox, whatever it was named, was excellent.

A penguin with a cause.

From Penguin we drove to Rocky Cape National Park for lunch. Sort of. Lunch was the reward for walking down to a remote beach. As National Parks go, it is not particularly popular with locals or tourists and Nick, our lead guide, was surprised that we came across more than one person on the track in (we saw no one on the way out). It is quite a delightful walk through the varying vegetation.

We're heading down there somewhere.

The track to the beach was well worn but narrow due to the lack of foot traffic. The heath gave way to some magnificent views of the coast. Then tide was low and the rocks were visible, the crystal clear water was spectacular shades of blue. It all looked very inviting, except for the temperature.

Wandering to the lunch spot.

On reaching the beach we turned to the west and scrambled across the seaweed, shells, sand and hundreds of cuttlebones that littered the shore. They were everywhere and of all sizes. Some of us went for a wander across the rocks to the water’s edge. The tide here is around 2 metres and where we had lunch would be covered by water later in the afternoon. I managed to snap a yellow-tailed black cockatoo sitting in a banksia.

My totem.

A dust covered frog.

The alternative to following the track back to the bus was to take the Loop walk which added a further 3kms to the walk and ensured different views back to the coast but also out over the hinterland. The down side was that we had to climb the mountain rather than cutting across the side. It was steep and it was hot and we were out in the open and at times the air was still. Was it worth it? A straw poll of our group suggested the jury was still out. I loved it.

As usual, the difficulties would be forgotten as soon as we were back on board the bus and heading for Stanley. The weather had been reasonably benign so far. We’d had cloud, sunshine and a few very quick, very light showers of rain. Mostly we had sunshine.

Pretty, but very cold.

Our accommodation at Stanley was in cottages owned by the local (read only) hotel in town. There were three cottages, two next to each other and one a 10 minute walk away. We were dropped at our accommodation and agreed to meet at the pub around 6:30pm for dinner. Nick kindly offered to pick us up.

Our cottage had three bedrooms, the single bathroom with clawfoot bath and a large eat-in kitchen. It also had three separate lounge/sunroom areas. It was furnished with a number of different period pieces and was adorned with museum pieces. Antique books graced the bookshelves, golf clubs with original wooden shafts, a collection of tennis racquets, and much more.

Our cottage, a living museum.

The pub was pumping when we arrived. It appears if you wish to eat out in Stanley, it is the only option. That said, the menu was a good mix of dishes, all locally sourced. As expected in the country, the serves were quite large and negated my interest in dessert.

Following dinner, we went to the viewing platform to check out the Little Penguins returning from a day’s fishing. We saw many and heard even more. One penguin ended up at the gated entrance to the walk and some clown who was not paying attention to where his feet were stepped on the penguin as he walked through the gate. The penguin squealed and shot down the walkway; he shouted and fell over.

Upon entering, we discovered the penguin trapped on the walkway with its head under the kick plate along the edge of the path. Nick swiftly removed him and dropped him onto the sand below. It scarpered away quickly, hopefully unharmed.

Back at the cottage, we repacked ready for tomorrow’s departure and happily stretched out in bed.

The reason we are exploring the Tarkine is on the recommendation of one of our guides from the Larapinta Trek last year. The posts covering our Tarkine experience are dedicated to that guide, Jonny Cunningham, a passionate advocate for the environment and an inspiration to those who had the privilege to walk with him. He is gone too soon. We will remember him every time we strap on our boots and head into the bush.

Jonny

Until tomorrow.