G'day Mate!

You know you've landed in Australia when you start hearing that greeting wherever you go. And possums, which are considered a pest in New Zealand and where drivers actually step on the gas to run them down, here they're a national treasure and federally protected. Campers come out at night with flashlights to watch them bicker and eat their supper in the trees. They also make a screeching racket when you're trying to sleep...

BTW, the Tasmanian National Parks organization wins my annual design award for best logo. Any pro sports team would be proud to wear this menacing devilish fellow, but yet it's reserved just for the few, the proud, the Tasmanian park rangers.





Now on to today. We drive from our free campsite at Mayfield Bay, further north along the shores of Oyster Bay and through the holiday town of Swansea, turning off at the road heading towards the Freycinet (fray-zin-nay) Peninsula and Freycinet National Park. The weather for our first three days in Tasmania has been ideal — the shorts and t-shirts are back out and we have sun, few clouds and mild temps in the low 20's. The nights get cool, but it is definitely warmer than what we left behind in NZ.

Renowned for its idyllic beaches and shell pink rock that decorates the bushes, Freycinet National Park is one of Tasmania's top destinations — home to the much photographed image of Wineglass Bay and the accompanying beach which is rated one of the top sandy locales in the world. At the entrance to the park is the small town of Coles' Bay, which we venture into briefly to check if the small raging forest fire and plumes of smoke we passed through out on the highway is an oxygen sucking bush fire coming our way or just a crackling controlled burn.

Word on the street is its just a controlled burn. No worries, mate. G'day! However, the haze from the smoke turns the midday sunlight into an orange glow, creating an unsettling early dusk.





At the visitor centre for the park, we load up on the day hikes guidebook and reserve a campsite in the park for ourselves and Bert — finally came up with a name for the van — it's definitely a Bert. Think Bert from Bert and Ernie. Kind of uptight. A little square. Squeaks a bit when he's excited. That's our Bert.

We ask the ranger about doing the Hazard Beach circuit, hiking down to Wineglass Beach and then over to Hazard Beach and back up the other side. In the guidebook it says to leave about 4-5 hours to complete the round trip.

"But you two look young and fit," says Mr. Friendly Ranger with the distinguished white hair. The Tasmanian parks people are very welcoming and helpful, we are learning - must be something to do with the cool logo on their shoulder patches. "You could probably do it in four hours."

We check the time. With sunset scheduled for 5:45 p.m., it'll be a push, but we think we can make it. According to Mr. F. Ranger, we have fooled him into thinking we are young and fit.

We bust over to the Wineglass Bay trail parking lot, have a quick lunch in Bert, check out the homeless wallabies loitering in the lot and then head out. The first part of the trail is a sturdy climb (I thought I swore off hikes with climbs?) through boulders and rock formations.








About half an hour up is a lookout point providing a view of the famous bay itself. Formerly a whaling station, Wineglass Bay was apparently named as such from all the whale blood which would turn the wineglass shaped bay red.



From the lookout point, it's a descent over rocks and sand, down to the beach of clear blue water (no drops of whale blood today) and puffy, very white sand. Not many people populate the beach, except for a few sunbathers/relaxers and a couple of bratty Japanese kids teasing a pair of beach bum wallabies. Guess they can't read the English, "Don't mess with the wildlife" signs.








We cross over through the bush that makes up the isthmus and onto the deserted and beautiful Hazard beach. Temptation for a swim begins to swirl. So far, Tasmania is very different than New Zealand and we are happy to have the change. It resembles the images you see of Australia — dry, flat, scrubby land. It feels weird to say, "We're in Australia" and even weirder to say, "We're in Tasmania, the little itty bitty part below Australia". (It's not so small - its the same size as Ireland). How on earth did we get here? You wake up in the morning and repeat to yourself, "I'm in the Bert and somewhere on the east coast of Tasmania." Then you pinch yourself and realize you're still there and get on with your day.

We hike along the flat sands of Hazards beach and then back up into the bush and over the trail, past the views of the other side of Oyster Bay and returning to more of the pink rock.













It's a good hike, not too hard in the end, and we do it in 3 hours, twenty minutes. High five! Mr. Friendly Ranger might be right — maybe we really are young and fit?!

We return to our campsite in the park for much needed showers, a drink before dinner and a view of the red sunset.




And then some moaning about our aching muscles and bones... because we're just so young and fit...