Tassie: the Last Chapter

Next stop, Freycinet (pronounced frai-si-nai), named after French navigator Louis de Freycinet.  We stayed at the Freycinet Lodge in the Freycinet National Park at Coles Bay, on the Eastern coast of the island, about a 4-hour drive from Cradle Mountain.  We basically crisscrossed Tasmania – it’s not that hard, it’s not a big island.  The highlight of our road trip to Freycinet - other than our newest, favorite car game, ‘name that marsupial road-kill’ - was we stopped in Deloraine again, as we had on our way to Cradle Mountain, for the BEST yellow curry I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting.  Yep, that’s right, the best yellow curry I’ve ever had was in a podunk town in the middle of Tasmania; don’t judge a book by its cover! 

We arrived at the Freycinet Lodge to 70-degree temps and sunshine; we were delighted to thaw out a bit from our last excursion. We were eager to throw on shorts and soak up the sun.  Mark generously offered to take the boys to the beach while I got to go for a run - what a gentleman.  

Freycinet is a peninsula with the Great Oyster Bay on one side and the Tasman Sea on the other.  There are little bays within the sea and bay and some fabulous hiking.  One of the most well known hikes in the area is to a beach called Wineglass Bay – love the name.  It’s a stunning beach and has repeatedly been voted one of the top ten beaches in the world.  You can’t reach this bay by car, thus making it all the more beautiful and secluded.  It’s about a 45-minute hike and 200+ meters up to the vantage point.  Mark and I would have loved to hike up the mountain and descend the other side to visit the beach, but realistically we knew this would be too much for the boys.  So we decided to venture to the lookout point where spectacular views of Wineglass Bay could be had. 

We started the hike in great spirits.  We couldn’t have ordered better weather; perfect conditions for a hike.  Fifteen minutes into the ramble as we began ascending Parker started complaining that his legs were tired and began dragging his feet saying he couldn’t go on.  Reid was as happy as a clam in the backpack.  Per Jen’s suggestion (thanks Prima), we decided to teach him, “99 Bottles of Beer” since he’s so in to counting, skip counting, and counting backwards – whatever thrills you dude.  What a hit this was!  We made it to 68 bottles of beer before another distraction fell into our laps.  About 2/3 up, the trail turns into intermittent flights of stairs, so we counted each stair, and hit 254 before reaching the lookout. 

At the peak it was quite a view, breathtaking really.  The beach was so inviting and Mark and I wanted to plunge down the other side, but as Barry always said, you have to leave something for next time.  We had a snack, took some pictures, found a bush for Parker to pee in, and then made our descent.  The stair counting and singing resumed, whatever it takes to keep the complaining to a minimum.

Back at the cabin our favorite nocturnal visitor followed us to Freycinet.  The bold brushtail opossum is apparently bolder on this part of the island.  While sitting on our patio having a glass of wine the courageous critter returned to inquire.  This little guy had the audacity to tip over my glass of wine and start drinking the spill and then stuck his snout in my glass to lick the remnants.  Little drunkard!  Mark and I watched in disbelief; he was like a cat.  I thought he was going to jump in my lap next, so we went inside and he sat by the door like a cat wanting to be let in.  He eventually sauntered off.  Hope he didn’t get too much of a buzz. 

Unfortunately, the brushtail opossum was the only nocturnal marsupial we encountered.  Apparently Tasmanian devils are very difficult to find unless you want to hike in the wilderness with a flashlight, which I was tempted to do.  However, because the devils are loud you’re supposed to be able to hear them, which we did on our last night.  We were sitting on our balcony cuddling with the opossums (not really, obviously) and heard a guttural, high-pitched growing/screaming sound, it was definitely a unique sound that echoed and carried, and we knew it was those little devils.  How fitting for our last night in Tassie.

All in all Tasmania was enriching and quite enjoyable, but we were ready to head home at the end of our 10 days.  “Home,” a confusing word in our vocabulary.  Mark and I have made a point to refer to our house in Manly as our “home,” for the boys sake, we don’t want to confuse them.  After all, home is where the heart is, right?  But wait, where is my heart? – don’t know the answer to that question.  However, I do know my heart is with my boys, and we want our boys to be comfortable in Manly, their home for 2 years, so we’ll refer to Manly as “home.”  We were all anxious to go “home;” Parker wanted to get his birthday presents – can you blame him, he’s 5!  Mark, had had enough of the 5:30 wake-ups and the close quarters, as had I, Reid, I think just goes with the flow and doesn’t really know what country he’s in since he keeps saying, “We’re going to Australia!” when he plays with his Fisher Price Little People airplane.  I wanted to go “home” cause I wanted to be in MY house.  Home is where you comfortably dwell.  It’s where I cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner for my boys.  It’s where I relax, lounge and sleep comfortably.  So for now, Manly is home.  Too bad we arrived home to a week of rain - an entrance into autumn - colder, darker days ahead.  But how dark can they be?  It is Australia after all! 

Next stop, who knows…!