Changes (Launceston, Tasmania)

Well, hello. I'm back. This time with a rainforest trek through the Tarkine in north-west Tasmania. Although we enjoyed the Tarkine experience with Trek Tours Australia last year, it was not quite what we were expecting. There is a message in that, dear reader - read the track notes before booking the experience. As you might recall we ended up in cabin accommodation, not quite the backpacking or wilderness adventure we had in mind. It was still an excellent experience, but without roughing it around camp sites.

First night's accommodation last year.

Following from that, and after discussions with Nick, one of the guides, we decided to book the Tarkine Rainforest Expedition. A full pack, 6 day camping extravaganza with a maximum of 8 participants, plus the two guides. And, as it turned out, a slightly under quoted distance to be navigated. More on that later.

Once the trek was guaranteed to go ahead, we booked our flights. Ahh, Qantas. Does anything go right with them these days? We had a briefing to attend at 3pm, the day before the walk, and, if we were fortunate, we could get there by 4pm. Otherwise it would be an extra night in Launnie to ensure we made the briefing. 

A few months after we booked the flights, Qantas changed its schedule and put all flights back an hour or so. Hence today’s title, dear reader, a David Bowie classic from 1971. This rescheduling ensured that we could not make the briefing at all. The return flight was also later which meant Dave probably wouldn’t get home until after 8pm. I was offered, and accepted, the option to cancel the flights. We then considered our next move.

Not a tent in sight. Corinna 2025.

Some months later, as we were doing the maths on the extra night in Launceston versus flight costs, Qantas offered $65 flights, which made arriving a day earlier the cost-effective option. Ultimately, we booked Virgin flights home via Melbourne to ensure we arrived in Sydney at a reasonable time.

Unsurprisingly, the flight to Launnie was late leaving but arrived on time. We caught an Uber to the hotel - a significantly cheaper choice than a taxi. That night we finally dined at the Pizza Pub with some unrestrained feral children (not ours), one of whom made deep throated guttural sounds at his sibling. The food was nothing to get excited about, but it was Friday, so pizza.

Saturday

The morning of the briefing continued the unseasonal humidity being experienced in Tassie thanks to Cyclone Narelle, despite it being firmly entrenched in the north of Australia.

In the morning, we headed to Frankie’s for excellent coffee, dear reader, and a blueberry muffin. Then we walked to Aspire, the venue for our 3pm meeting, to discuss rain jackets. I had convinced myself I needed to purchase a new one. The gear list stated a rain jacket with ‘storm flap’. My old jacket, now Dave’s, sports a storm flap, my new Quechua from Decathlon does not, although it is tri-layered and rated to 20,000mm for waterproofing.

After some discussion with the very helpful man in the shop, it was decided that storm flaps are somewhat passé and have been made redundant by the YKK zip system. It was back to the hotel to repack our gear and check the zip on my new jacket. Winner! It is a YKK. No need for another new jacket.

The 3pm rendezvous with our guides was drawing near but first, to the river! The North Esk River flows just 50m from the hotel. It was at the street’s end hidden by a substantial levee bank. The levee had a walking path set into its top and we wandered in the overly bright sun for a while. The hole in the ozone layer above Tassie ensures days of sunshine can be glaringly bright and deadly if you don’t apply sunscreen. Blackberry, a noxious weed, ran the length of this part of the river. As a pre-teen going to work with dad we would often stop and pick blackberries by the roadside. They’re in season, I said to Dave, and ran down the bank and commenced feasting on the ripe, sweet berries. Who says you need to be in the forest to forage for food? 

Photo courtesy of Dave.

We returned to Aspire just before 3pm to meet our guides, Lani and Lish, and to pick up our tent. The share of the group’s food would be added tomorrow, before the walk commenced. The group seemed quite good, although 2 people had flight issues and didn’t make it. Of the 8, there were two couples/pairs travelling together, one of which is Dave and me. The other four were solo adventurers, 3 women and a man. Interesting. Aside from the solo man (see what I did there?) everyone was from Sydney.

That night, we decided to dine at the Mersh, aka the Commercial Hotel. It was just around the corner from where we were staying and had a large menu on display outside. In hindsight, we probably should have gone inside to check it out. It had good reviews online but, well, it was old school. Old carpet, dated décor, dodgy gambling room and a hen’s party of screaming 20 something girls that invaded the quiet as we ate dinner. Despite that, the food was good and the people were lovely.

Bed time. We needed to be well rested. Tomorrow the trek begins.

Until tomorrow.

 

Smoke on the Water (Corinna, Pieman River, Four Mile Beach, Tasmania)

Welcome to day three in the Tarkine, dear reader. Tasmania and the rain forest have not escaped the bushfires that have ravaged other states in recent years. The bushfires have singed our published itinerary as well as the landscape and today we are not kayaking but travelling down the Pieman River by boat. Leaving at first light meant breakfast was served at 5:45am. Another early start for us and an earlier one for Nick and Hayden who prepare our breakfast. 

Heading for the coast on the Pieman River

By 7:30am the boat was motoring quietly down the misty Pieman River. Unlike the freezing trip Jayne and I experienced in Katherine a while back, the cabin was enclosed and reasonably warm. The fog was supplemented by smoke from areas still smouldering along the river. Hence today's title as chosen by Dave, that classic Deep Purple anthem from 1972, many years before he was born. As the sun climbed over the mountains the impact of the fires became clearer. The eucalypt forested areas were severely burnt, often to the waterline. The rainforest generally faired better in most areas, acting as a barrier to the flames.

The damage was worse closer to the coast.

I have sequence of these ... maybe flying swan wall art?

We disembarked at the head of the river and donned our packs to walk through a small fishing settlement of ‘summer shacks’ down to the beach. Dave and I were the first ones onto the pristine sand of the river where the tide had receded and therefore we had the opportunity to scout for tracks. The prints of a paddy melon and wombat told us we were not the first that morning. We followed the river down to its mouth and then turned south and walked along Four Mile Beach to Conical Rocks. Had the fires not devastated the area we would have been turning to the north and walking to Point Rupert. Maybe another time.

Wombat and Bennett's Wallaby tracks.

Looking back at where we should have been walking.

The roundtrip was around 10km, commencing on the beach and then heading slightly inland to avoid rock scrambling and deep channels carved from the ocean. The wallabies and pademelons soon materialised and were bounding away in every direction. We had an hour to explore the conical rocks area, get in touch with nature, forget we live in the city and restore our spirit. 

A wallaby on the move.

The area was a mass of granite boulders sheltering us from the Southern Ocean and the swell that propelled the waves onto the rocks. There were rock pools protected from the surge of the sea at low tide that contained starfish and other marine life. 

A Hooded Plover.

A non-cooperative starfish moving into the shadows.

The conical rocks.

More of the rocks.

Atop one of the massive granite outcrops, we discovered two plunge pools. The sizeable rock in the pool responsible for its existence acted as a seat. I could imagine sitting there on a hot summer’s day, cooling in the water, watching the endless succession of waves rolling from the open ocean, sipping on a glass of wine.

A great place to cool off and watch the ocean.

We regathered to enjoy a cup of tea and a snack before commencing the walk back to the heads. Happily we could walk at our own pace. The group came together at the intersection of beach and track and then walked another km or so to a where a creek entered the sea. There was a small rock platform that served as our lunch table. Magically from Nick and Hayden’s huge packs, lunch requisites appeared. Fresh ciabatta rolls, ham, cheese, salad, and condiments. It was all there.

Lunch is served.

There were more tracks to be observed in the undisturbed sand. We found wallaby and finally evidence of a Tasmanian Devil. Some other people appeared on the beach, indicating the boat had arrived from Corinna. One lone walker with a full pack approached us. She was a worker from Corinna who had a couple of days off and was heading for a campsite towards the end of the beach for some solitude. It is a magic place but extremely difficult to get to for the average walker. 

Tassie Devil tracks.

Boots off and packs on, we walked in the shore wash back to the waiting ferry. The skipper motored across to the other side of the river to show us a white-bellied sea eagle sitting on a branch just above the water line. Most unusual to see one down so low. Then it was back to Corinna with a slight pause at the nest of the sea eagle. There were patches where smouldering embers had been whipped up into smoke, otherwise it was a crowded if uneventful trip. We shared the boat, Arcadia II, with the day trippers.

White-bellied Sea Eagle.

We had some time to spare in the afternoon so Dave and I opted to do the Whyte River walk, a loop around Corinna. Much of the walk was along the banks of the Whyte River. The first part of the walk was through rain forest where the mud spires of the burrowing crayfish littered the side of the path. There were numerous fungi as well, particularly bracket fungus growing to quite a size on many trees.

A bracket fungi map of Australia.

Burrowing crayfish spire.

The walk beside the river was supposed to be a great place to spot platypus. It may well be, but not while we were there. It certainly is platypus country with muddy tree strewn banks and nesting place aplenty, but they remained home and didn’t come out to see us.

Corinna is an old gold mining settlement.

After a luxurious hot shower, it was down to the pub for pre-dinner drinks. Hayden appeared carrying trays of nibbles and announced that dinner would be served at the tables on the pub lawn. It was another amazing meal: Italian sausage, wallaby, potato salad, snow peas, broccoli and more. The cloud increased as the night deepened. No photography tonight.

The end of day 3 brought about two firsts, one for me and one for Dave. He had no blisters! And I wore my pyjama pants to the pub. One of us is on trend with the younger generation.

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.

Truly, madly, deeply (Tasmania bushwalking)

Surprise! I'm back for one post on a recent bushwalking adventure. I wasn't intending to write about it but the scenery was stunning and there were some interesting experiences worth sharing. It is Sunday as I write this and the trip was last Tuesday to Friday. It's a great time to head south to Tasmania to avoid the Sydney heat and humidity.

And the title? Savage Garden from 1997, "i wanna stand with you on a mountain". Don't disparage me, it's only just getting airplay in Tassie now.

Day 1: Sydney to Hobart

In an unusual beginning to the adventure I caught the train to the airport. What a rip-off. Cheers to the NSW Liberal government. A one way journey, three stops, cost over $15. This is why Jayne and I usually go by Uber, it's actually more cost effective, but as I was travelling alone it was the train. No Jayne, you ask? No dear reader, this is a bushwalking holiday. Jayne's involvement in my treks usually extends to waving me goodbye with the epithet, "Have a lovely, lovely time". This farewell was no different.

I met Dave at the airport and we rearranged our gear so all the fun stuff went in the single check-in bag. Why I can't take my pocket knife on the plane I do not know. Surely they can't expect me to go bushwalking without it? The bag was down the chute in minutes and we navigated the security line with speed. Cheers to my platinum status.

Then it was breakfast in the Qantas lounge and down to the gate to sit with Maz and Wayne and wait for boarding. We left on time and the journey was uneventful, arriving in Hobart at the scheduled time. My bag arrived on the same plane, always a good sign, but without its wheels and with the frame crushed. Nice work Qantas. That's two bags suffering the same fate in my last two trips. I will lodge a complaint this time, not that it will make a difference. My love for national carrier diminishes with every flight.

The car was ready to go, thank you Hertz, but it was not in great condition with scratches on every panel, no thank you there. More on that later.

We drove to our accommodation, the Fox and Hounds Inn at Port Arthur, checked in, dropped our bags, grabbed some water and were taking the first steps on our initial walk by 2pm. All nicely to plan.

Mount Brown - Crescent Beach

This is an 'easy' walk around 10 km return depending on the extent to which you wish to explore the beach and the mountain. The suggested time is about 4 hours which is more than sufficient, although beachcombing and photo opportunities on Mt Brown can add time to the trip. As can watching the wildlife.

Maingon Bay

The track is clearly signposted and well maintained with the exception of the climb up to Mt Brown. There is a stairway that leads down to Remarkable Cave. This is worth a visit and can be particularly interesting in big seas. The cave is actually a tunnel formed by wave action.

Remarkable Cave

From the cave we made our way to the Mt Brown track. Again, the walk is signposted and the track well kept with many sections of boardwalk. We stopped to admire the view at one point and were joined by an echidna who was quite oblivious to our presence.

Without descending into cliché, OK then, descending into cliché, the coastline in this area is rugged. The wind was strong and the waves were smashing against the rocks, sending seaspray a long way into the sky and subsequently, inland. Maingon Blowhole was interesting, if unspectacular on the day we were there.

The blowhole on a quiet day.

The ascent to Mt Brown was a scramble. The climb was easy enough, if steep, with loose rock underfoot. It was a short, sharp climb to a false summit where people have constructed a large cairn. The true summit is the trig station a short walk across the mountain top. The views were excellent, if somewhat diminished by the abundance of seaspray being whipped up by the wind. It really is an inhospitable coastline of sheer cliffs. We were able to see the end point of the next two walks off in the distance.

The real top of Mt Brown.

Down the mountain and back onto the track, we made our way to Crescent Beach. Walkers coming up the track from the beach warned us of a snake on the track. We didn't see any, although Dave had spotted a tiger snake off the side of the track on our walk across to Mt Brown. Tassie only has three species of snakes, all of them venomous.

Crescent Beach from the mountain top.

Curiously, Crescent Beach is crescent shaped. Australian cartographers are just so imaginative. The depth of water dropped away very quickly and there was ample evidence of strong currents. Despite its beauty, it is not a place for swimming. Aside from that the water was freezing, according to those who wet their feet.

It doesn't matter how you look at it, the water is freezing.

The walk back is equally spectacular and we stopped frequently to watch the waves crashing onto the rocks and sending plumes of spray high into the air.

The Fox and Hounds Inn

It was a short 15 minute drive back to the accommodation. Time to refresh before dinner at 6:30 at the Fox and Hounds. Despite checking in earlier and discussing with the staff that we had phoned earlier in the week to check out the food options, when we asked for a table we were informed they were fully booked. Clearly they weren't and a table was soon found. Wayne then discovered that draught beer was "off" and he was forced to drink VB. Ok, maybe 'forced' was not the right word. Thankfully they had a tight little wine list that featured some lovely local wines. Bream Creek Wines are worthy of your attention.

I selected the Fox and Hounds, dear reader, because the menu was sufficiently varied to meet our dietary needs for the three nights we would be there. Although the lamb cutlets, like the beer, were n/a. In a practice opposite to that of most restaurants, their blackboard menu listed the meals you couldn't have. Interesting. It must be a Tassie thing. Wasn't really keen on driving further afield at night in search of sustenance because of the wandering wildlife and drink driving regulations.

Dinner done and dusted it was time for bed to restore our energy levels before tackling our next walk.

Day 2: Cape Raoul

Wednesday dawned slightly overcast but the wind had gone. The Fox and Hounds doesn't offer breakfast so we decided to try our luck in nearby Nubeena, eschewing the two local takeaways up the road. Mistake. Nubeena has a large (well, large for this area) IGA, curiously located 2.5 km out of town. That is promising thought I. Not so much. There was a cafe in town. Its pie warmer was as empty as the brain of an anti-vaxxer. All the locals were coming for coffee not food. Marilyn and Wayne requested ham, cheese and tomato toasties (not on the menu) from the person behind the counter. Despite the small town serial killer vibe, the toasties were Ok and neither of them died from their breakfast. I meandered down the street to see if there was another place where breakfast might be sourced. Nope. A smaller IGA, a pub, not open, and that was about it.

Tea tree.

Back in the car I decided to stop at the large IGA in case they did takeaway. There I procured a large sausage roll that Dave and I shared. Such is life on the lam. Then off to Cape Raoul which has changed much since the writing of the track notes we were using.

The track notes suggest 14 km return. My Apple watch recorded just over 16 km, although the suggested time of 6 hours was more than we required. Cape Raoul is now part of the Three Capes Walk which you can complete as a guided walk or under your own steam. I had thought of doing this but there were time restrictions at the end of the walk (to catch a bus back to the car) and I didn't want to be pressured. If we want to sit and look at the scenery we will and we'll please ourselves with the pace at which we walk. Also, we get to sleep in a bed each night and don't need to carry a full pack - I think those days may well be over.

No idea what this is, but amazing growing in the most harsh conditions.

There is a car park at the commencement of the walk and a graded section of Stormlea Road that serves as an overflow. The track is well maintained and there was much work happening on it on the day we walked. There are sections of boardwalk in the particularly boggy areas. There is little chance of deviating from the well trodden path to the Cape and Seal Rock.

The track commences in forest.

Once again the scenery was stunning. Cliff and coastal views, heathland, wild flowers, black cockatoos, white-lipped snakes, wallabies, seals, it was all there for us to enjoy. There are a couple of ascents involved but these can be taken at your own pace and are not particularly arduous when only carrying a daypack. We stopped at Seal Rock for muesli bars and a sugar hit, before walking back to Cape Raoul and admiring the view to Mount Brown and the headland we had traversed yesterday. Off in the distance was Cape Hauy, to be conquered tomorrow.

A long way to walk yet.

The walk back was uneventful although we were amazed by the number of walkers heading in the opposite direction to us. It does stay light later in Tassie, compared to Sydney, but there were areas in the heavily wooded sections where the light would be very limited in the afternoon. Perhaps they were heading for the shorter walk and destination of Shipstern Bluff.

After the disappointment of the morning's attempt at breakfast, we stopped at the other takeaway on the home journey. And what did find, dear reader? A cafe that serves a variety of food until 7pm. The usual breakfast suspects, as well as burgers, pies, and other things to keep heart and soul together.  Like Arnie, we will be back.

Seal rock ... down below.

Dave very cleverly reserved a table for dinner. One in the corner where we could hear each other. Thankfully the draught beer was back on and we enjoyed a local pilsener prior to dinner. Still no lamb cutlets.

Day 3: Cape Hauy

Around 2am, I was woken by the sound of water. Lots of water. Like a massive storm. A quick peek out the window showed a saturated car park and water all over the verandah. Overflowing gutters I assumed. What a waste in a place that relies on its water tanks. The tap water here is not fit for drinking. Everything comes in environmentally unfriendly plastic.

Once the voices outside my window disappeared, I rolled over and listened to the rain and drifted back to sleep. In the morning the car park was still wet although the rain had stopped. I went to have a shower to discover we had no water. Fortunately I had showered on our return yesterday afternoon. Dave was not so lucky, although he did spend some time soaking his blistered feet.

I sent a text to Wayne and Maz. They too were waterless. How about that rain last night said I! Their response was the same as Dave's, what rain? This prompted me to wander out to the car park and look under the verandah. A pipe had burst sending water up through the slats of the verandah and cascading across the boards down onto the car park, sounding for all the world like an overflowing gutter.

Fortescue Bay

No showers this morning. It was off to the takeaway where breakfast was a much more fulfilling and pleasant experience.

Curiously this is the end of the walk, not the beginning.

The Cape Hauy walk is the last part of the Three Capes walk and depending on the track notes you read, is the easiest. My notes said 10 km return, which proved to be accurate and recommended a 4 hour return journey with minimal stops. Again this was accurate enough, however, we spent a lot of time enjoying the various views and lookouts, so our return time was a little over 5 hours. The big difference was in the grade of the walk. Some notes suggest easy-medium others medium. The severe nature of the ascents on this walk rule out any reference to easy. A point discussed with and agreed to by many other walkers on the day.

What goes up must come down ...

It is without doubt a stunning walk and the views are spectacular and the breeze most welcome on a sunny day. It is also the busiest track I've walked on. There was a constant stream of walkers heading in both directions with people also joining from the direction of Mt Fortescue having completed the entire three day Three Capes walk.

The track ahead. The photo does not do it justice.

As you reach the high point of the walk at 180 m, the plateau opens up in front of you and the track you need to follow is laid out before you. The steps lead down and then up again in what looks like a sheer climb, again back to 180 m. Perhaps it is the visual that is so simultaneously breathtaking and soul destroying. The sight of a steep climb on uneven steps is daunting, made all the more so by stories of others walkers passed en route. However, there is no choice. Onward.

We paced ourselves, not being in a rush, and made Cape Hauy in good time. The Candlestick is a spectacular rock formation, a dolerite column reaching out of the sea to a height of 125m. There were of course seabirds and seals far below on the rocks. The sea goes on forever, well, all the way to Antarctica, and the drop to the ocean is abrupt and vertical. So much so that I struggled to stay near the edge of the viewing platform.

The candlestick.

While none of us was looking forward to the return journey it had to happen and we decided we would do it at our own pace and meet at the Mt Fortescue track junction. Those who wanted to stop and rest could and I could just drop my pace, drop my head and keep walking.

There were a couple of white-lipped snake sightings but nothing else out of the ordinary.

Please don't step on me.

We returned to the Fox and Hounds to find the water restored, albeit the pipes needed bleeding, as they farted and spurted their way through our showers. It was hotter and less cloudy today and we were all in need of refreshing water before dinner. Back to the corner table for a couple of energy restoring beers.

As always at the end of our walks, talk turns to why? Why do we do this to ourselves? In my younger days it was about the experience and seeing things I hadn't seen before, the camaraderie, the laughs, the experience, the views. But now? Simple, it's because I still can. And that is reason enough.

I have no idea but it was about half along the track.

There were still no lamb cutlets for dinner despite the number of lambs we saw in surrounding paddocks.

Day 4: Hobart to Sydney

It rained last night. No really. It poured. From above, not below. The mended water pipe held and showers were enjoyed before the wet drive to the airport.

We returned the car and spoke to a Hertz person who was totally unconcerned that every panel of the car was scratched when I picked it up. Wear and tear, he said. Won't be a problem, he said, but I'll make a note for you. It appears he was correct. I have since received the final invoice - no problem, no extra charge.

The terminal was extremely crowded. Apparently a heavy fog in Melbourne that morning had caused havoc with all airline schedules. There were queues everywhere and no simple bag drop for those that had already checked in. Line up with everyone else. What year is it down here?

Once through security, the departure area proved to be just as crowded and seats were at a premium. We jagged a table and spread our gear out waiting for our friends. Then we watched the board as our plane's departure time was being pushed back further and further, until we were leaving an hour or more behind schedule. Finally the plane arrived, we boarded and left Hobart.

It was a beautiful afternoon in Sydney when we landed and I had contemplated walking home. The back pack would be no issue but lugging a bag without wheels with an impaired structure ... nah, I'll burn another $15+ on the train.

And that dear reader is a wrap, until New Zealand in a couple of weeks.

Until then ...