Day 15: Exploring Tassie

I’d like to begin with an apology to anyone who might be sad if I never return, but Australia is winning me over with every new day. I cannot even begin to think about what New Zealand is going to do… Our beautiful morning started off with thesis work until noon, with which I was able to knock out a substantial amount of my project brief that is due Tuesday. Long story short, this brief summarizes your project, and makes you take a 30,000 ft view of the risks and challenges with your thesis project. Luckily, my steel structured, single-sloped building is rather straight-forward.

Our journey began with a drive to downtown Hobart in hopes of finding some amazing Greek restaurant Jack had found. Lo and behold, we happened across closed streets for a large festival. Parking in a 15 minute, we added some exciting risk to our seemingly unruinable day. We bought fresh produce snacks for our trip, gifts, and a Wallaby Mexican burrito. Although Wallabies don’t pounce around Mexico, this nuance was welcomed and delicious. With time surely over on our park, we returned to drop off purchases and ensure we hadn’t been ticketed. Miraculously, we missed the patrolling officer by 5 minutes, as the ticketed car behind us suggested. Phew, we added more money and sat down to fully embrace our burritos. The atmosphere was incredible, locals carrying on with the most interesting conversations about friends and family, and I found myself feeling a bit local and assimilated into the whole Australian thing. If I lived anywhere in the world, Tasmania just might make the list.

We left the festival ticketless, and began our journey to Port Arthur, which is around the bay on the Tasman Peninsula. The drive, comparable to The Great Ocean Drive, was full of hairy turns, steep slopes, and views of pastures or water around every corner. We semi-planned out our day, but the carelessness Jack and I had was what made it so perfect. We’d see a sign or building that looked cool, and we’d just stop and check it out. Turns led to dirt roads which led to unoccupied beaches which led to more dirt roads and ultimately led to locals telling us the rutted road we were about to attempt wasn’t the best of ideas. We found all the right things to do, and the whole local thing was becoming an epic reality. Tasmania is a part of Australia that even a lot of Australians haven’t visited, so we found ourselves amongst mostly Australian tourists. We stopped at a landmark called Tessellated Pavement, an ancient carving of rock made by penetrating salts into soft layers of rock, that were now being stripped and carved by the roaring ocean. Sea urchins and shells littered the cracks and pools.

We passed castles, farms, produce stands, distilleries, sheep, and lands that haven’t been touched by anything other than bushfires. We stopped at the touristy spots of The Blowhole, Devil’s Kitchen, The Lookout, and the Port Arthur prison compound (which cost A$38, so we figured viewing the ruins from a distance was satisfactory). Then, literally in the middle of nowhere, we stumbled across signs for the Tasmanian Devil Unzoo - a rehabilitation and zoo for Tasmanian Devils, Eastern Quolls, Pademelons, and of course kangaroos. We watched Quolls and Tasmanian Devils feast, nap, and play. Then, we ran for the roos. Oh my. They mentioned petting them, but didn’t mention there would be 30 of them, and that we’d be the only ones in the fenced pasture with them. We scratched their chests and heads, they licked us, hopped toward us, everything. I’ve always judged girls who cry when they see a cute animal, but I was very, very close to being one of them. Joeys were hanging out of pouches, larger Joeys were stretching and yawning, and they could care less that we were there. I laid with them, hugged them, fed them. It was surreal. I’ve never done anything of the sort with any other animal, not to mention with so many… This spot was perfect, small enough to not be super touristy, yet large enough to experience everything and do it on your own without a large crowd “ooing” and “awing.”

We finished our journey at White Beach; a beautiful stretch of sandy isolation amidst the mountains. The sun was beginning to set, so we enjoyed the beginning, but got back on the road to finish our journey back before it got too dark. We decided to make it back to Hobart for food, but as this trip has proven, any plan is guaranteed to change for more exciting spontaneity.

We spotted a place called Port Arthur Lavender Distillery, and saw they served food. Uncertain of what they distilled, we found that they actually distilled lavender essence. Mom, you would have been in heaven… The food was terrific, and the large glass façade allowed us to view the untouched wilderness as we ate. We left, driving the picturesque roads, content to our core. The sky’s whites and yellows and blues turned to pinks and violets, then rich purples and reds. We eventually stopped for petrol (which was interesting because most gas stations are old-school pumps that require payment inside), and made it back to our motel at 9:30 PM, just in time to change and rush to the Wharf we ate at last night to get a double cone of ice cream. Perfect ending to a perfect day, today somehow topped yesterday…

Exploring uncharted territory without a guide or large group is exactly the adventure I yearn for. Driving never got old, even for a second, and Jack and I were on the same wavelength throughout the entire journey. We didn’t argue or disagree, we just spoke our minds and did things as they came. We didn’t need to run to a club or bar to get intoxicated. We talked about life, what we value (and don’t), politics, future adventures, and I taught him a thing or two about manually shooting photography as he experimented with capturing the sunset with low-light conditions (photo credit where it is due of course). We established that we will be lifelong friends, and that our families will vacation together. We will take on Patagonia, Kilimanjaro, and most likely Australia/New Zealand again. It’s crazy how God works, and how we have grown as friends: old souls who enjoy this beautiful Earth and everything/everyone on it.