Tasmania. Affectionally known by all Australian’s as “Tassie,” following the typical Australian naming convention that Rosie has touched upon in other entries which involves dropping all unnecessary letters. Australia’s island state which sits 240km south of the mainland, separated from the rest of the country by the Bass Strait. Tasmania is famous for having the world’s cleanest air, thanks to its isolated location far from pollution, and I can attest to that. I don’t think I have had a such a deep breath of fresh air since I have returned! More than one-fifth of Tassie is a designated World Heritage Area and commonly referred to as one of Earth’s last true wildernesses. It is home to an incredible range of flora and fauna, including the oldest trees in the world in its dense rainforests and the elusive Tasmanian Devil.

 

My Tasmanian adventure began at 3am in Melbourne as I woke up ridiculously early to dutifully abide by the airline’s advice to arrive two hours prior to flight departure. This was to be the last time I follow that advice. I breezed through security and proceeded to watch the hours tick by, wishing I had stayed in bed that little bit longer!

 

After a short 1-hour flight south, I landed and was given the true Tassie welcome of rain and grey skies. I caught the bus to the city and caught a glimpse of Mount Wellington (Kunanyi to the Aboriginal Tasmanians) shrouded in cloud – like a location in a video game that you haven’t unlocked yet. I dropped my bag at the hostel and set off to explore Hobart, Tassie’s capital city, in the pouring rain. I have to say, I was unimpressed with Hobart, perhaps it was the weather, but I concluded that Hobart was a quite a boring city. Grey buildings, narrow streets, and a sort of quiet atmosphere. I hid from the rain in the Tasman National Museum and took a selfie with a stuffed Tasmanian Devil, hoping to see the real thing soon. I also learnt a great deal about Tasmania’s rich Aboriginal history, as well as the atrocities which were committed against the Aboriginal people by the invading Europeans. I was saddened to discover that many culturally significant Aboriginal artefacts are still being held hostage in museums overseas. 

 

I walked around the city some more and hiked up the hill to the top end of the city for a Bahn Mi, which had been recommended by the hostel, and then back to the hostel. I sat and read my book to the sound of the rain hitting the roof. Clearly a wave of tiredness washed over me as I awoke several hours later, curled up in a foetal position on my bunk bed. Thankfully the rain had stopped, and I left to find some dinner. I settled upon a Japanese bento box of chicken, pork, and miso soup. I headed to a jazz bar I had found on the Internet and ordered a Charlie Chaplin which turned out to be much too sweet for my tastes. Regardless, I felt very sophisticated sipping a cocktail and listening to some blues music in a small bar tucked down an alleyway.

 

The next morning began at the famous Salamanca markets which everyone at work had told me, “I simply must visit!”. I had a very yummy scallop/sweet potato in miso butter skewer and bought an autobiographical book from a man who had hitchhiked from Hobart to London. Upon reflection I would say it is a pretty good market but nothing like the Parap markets of Darwin with their treasure trove of South-East Asian food trucks which is much more up my street.

 

I then caught a ferry up the estuary to MONA – The Museum of Old & New Art. This was and probably always will be, the weirdest museum I have ever been to! Stand out pieces include the Vagina Wall, the Inner Ear Confession room, the digestion machine (which ‘excretes’ at 2pm every day, after a 9am ‘feeding’) and the man who composes new jazz songs every day. I was blown away by the scale of this museum which has been built into a cliff face and the tunnels which snake around connecting the different rooms! Incredibly high ceilings (especially for an underground museum), scratch-your-head exhibits, and some “very modern” pieces make this the most awe-inspiring museum/gallery visit I have had. They are still excavating deeper into the rock and adding more rooms, the museum curator never seems to be satisfied!

 

There was one room which had a spiral into the middle. It was dark, with low eerie music and binary numbers on the walls, along with some rather macabre words about death and existence. As you reach the centre of the spiral, you had to duck and enter a little box room. Standing up straight and looking up, I saw someone above me who I thought was about to jump down and attack me and I let out a little scream!  Embarrassingly, it just turned out to be a mirror and I had just scared myself. I’m pretty sure I gave the people outside quite a shock!

 

I ended up delaying my ferry home to catch the daily jazz performance from the man who composes new songs every day and his band. This was my first ever live jazz experience (seeing as the previous day’s trip to a jazz bar had played blues music) and I absolutely loved it. The saxophonist was incredible and everything I had been wanting to hear live for the past year or so since I began listening to jazz music while cooking. On the ferry home I got chatting to an American music producer (who it turned had produced “Best Song Ever by One Direction) about all types of music and travelling solo. The day ended with some fish and chips overlooking Hobart’s harbour, washed down with a pint from one of the island’s many breweries.

 

The next morning, I woke up feeling very refreshed and decided to go for a walk around the Tasmanian Botanic Gardens, before Nic (my friend from Melbourne and my chauffer for the next couple days) arrived. I ended up getting lost and took my time getting there but upon my eventual arrival, had a lovely look around the gardens.

Nic had flown into Launceston (north Tasmania) and made the three-hour drive south to pick me up. We were reunited and drove into Hobart city to pick up some supplies for our drive back up north. We made a mistake with the parking machine and only paid for 15 minutes but we weren’t allowed to top up so sprinted as fast as our legs could carry us to Woolies to grab some lunch bits and then to my hostel to pick up my backpack. We headed out of the city and drove right up to the top of Mount Wellington/ Kunanyi. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to park at bottom and hike up as we had to drive all the way to Launceston today. At the top, we took in the sights of Hobart and Bruny Island before returning to the car to drive back down the mountain.

 

We headed north, taking in the rolling green hills of Tassie either side of the highway and I was reminded of the Devonshire countryside, feeling right at home despite being 17,500km away! We checked into our hostel and found a boy asleep in our room who had just landed in Australia that morning. He turned out to be from Durham - what a small world! We took him to the beach with us and went for a rather chilly swim. It was too cold for Nic, who as a Queenslander, is used to swimming in warm water and 30°C heat. However, as British boys, we weren't about to be put off by some cold water! On our drive home, we saw loads of wallabies who darted across the dirt track right in front of the car and George (our Durham passenger) seemed to be nowhere near as excited as I was the first time I saw them. Perhaps he was too jetlagged, perhaps I’m more excitable... I will leave it up to you to decide!

 

On the drive, we also saw some wild Tasmanian Devils on the roadside, distinctive by their bright red eyes which reflected in the headlights. Falling asleep in the backseat, I don't think George appreciated the rarity of these sightings, especially of a wild Devil (only 25,000 remain in the wild)! Since all the restaurants were closed at this late hour on a Sunday, I resorted to frozen ready meals from Woolies for dinner, which I was pleasantly surprised by, especially given their $3 price tag!

 

After only a couple hours of kip, we woke up at 4.30 am to drive two hours west to Cradle Mountain in time for the first shuttle bus into the National Park. As we were buying our entrance tickets, the park ranger quizzed Nic about his lack of raincoat and was concerned he wasn’t dressed appropriately for the ‘rather inclement weather’ which lay ahead of us, but Nic allayed the ranger’s fears by lying about the (non-existent) raincoat he had tucked into his Olivia Rodrigo tote bag. In his smiley face jeans and red flame jumper, Nic looked rather out of place amongst all the serious hikers setting out on their six-day overland camping trips. Cradle Mountain is treated to many more rainy days than dry days due to its altitude and we were about to experience that first hand.

 

On the shuttle bus up into the park, we spotted some very cool looking Albino wallabies! We were here at Cradle Mountain to spot the wombats, so we got off the bus at the spot where they normally hang out. Unfortunately, the rain seemed to be keeping them in their burrows so while we saw plenty wallabies hopping around, the wombats were nowhere to be seen. Deciding to come back later, we hiked up to Marion's lookout, hoping to see the summit of Cradle Mountain's summit but it was shrouded by the very same thick rain clouds which were unleashing a tropical ‘shower’ upon us.

 

After seven hours of wandering around in the rain, we went back to our starting point which we had been told was prime wombat territory. I have to say, the whole of the National Park seemed to be prime wombat territory to me. With its undulating hills, tropical flora, and very soft, spongy-looking ground, I’d never seen somewhere which looked more like a perfect wombat habitat. Eventually, we spotted our first wombat through the rain! We were only able to spot it when it moved as they look very similar to rocks (albeit furry/fluffy rocks) when they’re standing still. Walking along the boardwalk, with our eyes peeled like never before and re-invigorated after a rather soggy day by the sight of our first wombat, we spotted nine more! Feeling very accomplished, we headed out of the national park and descended back towards sea level. Almost immediately, the weather improved, and we had a lovely dinner of fish and chips overlooking the beach as the sun set.

 

We arrived back at the hostel at 10pm and found our sheets, duvets, and pillows to have been taken away because, as we later learned, we hadn’t left a bag on our bed to signify to the cleaner that we were coming back. Rather than sleep on a bare mattress, and in consultation with Rosie on FaceTime, we made the decision to get back on the road. We had a two-hour drive ahead of us to reach the start of our sunrise hike in Freycinet National Park. Feeling, surprisingly awake (and admittedly rather giddy), we set off into the black, black night, driving very cautiously to avoid hitting the many wallabies and possums on the roads which would dart across the road without any warning. We had many near misses and eventually I dozed off (as I always do in cars) and Nic woke me up when we arrived in the park. Nic admitted to running over an “already dead” wallaby. We slept for two hours, but it took me ages to get to sleep as it was the night of Halloween and having told some spooky stories on our drive, I was sure that we were going to be woken up by a masked murder with a machete, tapping on the car window.

 

Two hours later, having slept sitting up in our seats, we were woken up by my alarm of bird sounds (best alarm out there!). A quick snack of a vegemite/cheese swirl for me and a cucumber for Nic (who’s vegan) and we set off with woolly hats and our phone torches on. As we embarked for the summit of Mount Amos at 4am, the masked murders fears were still in the back of my mind. With only our phone torches, we saw very little of what lay ahead of us and around us in the trees. The gentle gradient path quickly turned into a steep rock face, and we found ourselves on our hands & knees, channelling our inner mountain goats as we scrambled up the mountain. Using tree roots to pull us up and some rather awkward parkour, we slowly made our way up the mountain in the dark with one hand occupied to hold our phones for torches. We got to the top as the sun came up and we were greeted by a stunning view of Wineglass Bay and surrounding park: I would put it firmly in my top 5 views. It felt magical as the sun shone through gaps in the clouds and bathed parts of the surrounding forest in orange light. The bay itself held some of the bluest water I’ve seen. We were the only two up there and had a 360° of some of the most stunning scenery – I felt on top of the world.

 

On our way down the mountain, both Nic and I had a couple slips/falls which luckily, we were able to style out as breakdance moves. I had been feeling very proud of myself as I deftly raced down the steep rock face, watching Nic slide down the whole way on his bottom and having a few spectacular falls, with arms flailing like a windmill, until I too had a slip of my own…. We got to the bottom, had a breakfast of sorts (more vegemite cheese swirls) and hiked over to Wineglass Bay so I could go for a swim. Once again Nic was put off by the cold sea but I, on the other hand, dove right in. Admittedly it was rather chilly, so I didn’t stay in for too long! It felt like a bit of a misnomer with the sun beating down on us, hot sand, the amazingly turquoise sea, and my chattering teeth. I dried off and we caught up on some much-needed sleep on the beach. Nic got very burnt as we slept under the sun whereas I was all wrapped up since I was so cold, and the UV rays couldn't get to me! Nic was woken up by someone pointing out a pod of dolphins who were visiting the bay, but I was sadly in too deep of a slumber to wake up. We walked back to the car & drove back to Hobart for an early dinner before my flight home and so Nic could check into his hostel. We got bento boxes - super yummy & very well received after a long day out with little sleep or food.

 

On this short five-day trip, I’ve only managed to see a very small part of what Tassie has to offer but what I have seen, I’ve absolutely loved. This island state has my heart. It’s such a beautiful place, and it truly feels like one of Earth’s last wildernesses. I can see why everyone I speak to at work wants to retire down here!