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There was one thing that Helen really wanted to do in Tassie, more than anything else. She wanted to hike The Overland Track. (Readers already familiar with her fondness for mountains will not be surprised.)
This was to be a holiday. But how can you have a holiday when you live in a tent? The answer is guides and huts. Three course meals and hot showers as you hike through Tasmania's alpine World Heritage area. Take the luxury option.
The weather was perfect on the first day. As we ascended the ridge around Crater Lake, Cradle Mountain came into view. It was a long day, 12 km and the highest elevation gain, after a relatively late start. By the time we reached the hut the light was dwindling and our bodies were sore.
The next day the weather was a little overcast, but only a little light rain fell.
Like elsewhere we'd been in the Tasmanian mountains, there was ample water on the ground already.
We also got our first experience with the value of gaiters for hiking.
Sloppy mud was something we would become accustomed to.
The vegetation changed continuously. Alpine buttongrass meadows, myrtle, leatherwood, rainforest, pandani. There were stands of Fagus, which, much to our ongoing surprise, is a deciduous native. Along the creeks and other moist areas, there were fungi aplenty.
The weather changed frequently too, as mountain weather does. Helen's plans to take the optional side track up Tasmania's highest peak (Mt Ossa) were thwarted by our only day of substantial rain. There were creek beds with fossils, mine tunnels with cave crickets, waterfalls. Helen even managed to spot a Tassie devil along the track.
The hiking got gradually easier as the days passed. Helen found a hiking partner in Roweena, one of our guides. They hiked at a similar pace, but Helen's pack weighed a third of Row's. All too soon the days passed and we were taking a boat ride along Lake St Clair and back to civilisation.
The commute along the north coast is very different to our last temporary home. It's a longer distance, mostly freeway. Coastal heath, not dry woodland. Wedge tailed eagles occasionally sore on costal thermals. (Apparently a rare sight in Tasmania.) The multi-hued woodchip piles on the dock at Burnie mark the other end.
After a few more days in the office, it was off to the west coast camping with Jo and Ted.
Ted had worked this stretch of coast for years, and wanted to show us around.
We explored the old mining town of Balfour, a surprising patch of regenerated rainforest surrounded by semi-arid coastal heath. We went four wheel driving down the coast from Temma, where the cruiser showed off it's swimming skills.
The highlight of our visit to the coast must certainly have been our tassie devil tours. We watched as devils and a quoll took turns on a roadkill carcass pegged outside a shack on a former cattle farm. It's nice to see a successful transition into eco-tourism
As we were packing up our camp site a call came in on the mobile. Stan had lost his battle with cancer. It was a quiet drive back to the beach house.