Our immediate aim was a walk to stretch our legs. We left the bed and breakfast and headed along the little local beach, where Hooded Plovers lurked, looking rather like delegates at a hangman's convention. A scatter of loafing Pacific Gulls also added a touch of elegant menace, with something of a thuggish swagger to their appearance.
|Pacific Gulls in the hood|
The next morning dawned clear and sunny, so we headed without further ado into the nearby Freycinet National Park to explore the much-lauded delights of Wineglass Bay. This is an extremely popular walk, as we quickly discovered: the carpark was showing signs of creaking at the seams at 8.30 in the morning. Nevertheless, we signed in to the walkers' book and headed off, determined to make a round trip to Hazards Bay. The initial climb was a short sharp one, tracking up a wide gravelled path dotted with tourists. We took our time (how should we do otherwise?) and eventually reached the lookout over Wineglass Bay, where we joined a gaggle of other tourists admiring the view - admittedly very nice. We pressed on with some enthusiasm, looking for somewhere a little quieter where we might see some of the wildlife, and were almost immediately rewarded: a Bassian Thrush foraging beside the path, a pair of Eastern Spinebills flitting through the canopy, a Flame Robin glowing in the understorey - and then a pair of Wedge-tailed Eagles drifting serenely overhead, chocolate-brown against a Prussian-blue sky.
|Skink skulking by path|
Soon after this, we noticed a pair of Grey Fantails making a hell of a racket in the trees a few metres away. A pair of Scarlet Robins joined them, dashing down towards a branch, then up into the neighbouring branches or the nearby trees: classic mobbing behaviour. A careful scan of the branch showed us the culprit: a sizable Black Tiger Snake slowly picking its way down the tree, about 2.5 metres off the ground. Clearly the birds were taking no unnecessary risks whilst alerting their neighbours that the predator was around, and letting the snake know exactly what they though of it! We left them to it and plodded on down to the bay.
The view from the beach was, to be honest, a little disappointing. A bit like the view from above, but without the perspective. The path towards Hazards Bay beckoned; enticingly free of walkers... The woods here opened out somewhat, with wattlebirds and Green Rosellas making a noisy entrance for the day. To our left we began to get glimpses of Hazards Lagoon, a large reed and sedge-scattered body of water which appears to be quite shallow. The view across to the hills to the south was placidly stunning, making up for rather a lack of birdlife on the water (a pair of Black Swans and a pair of Mallard), whilst the aptly-named Banjo Frogs plonked a charismatic chorus around the edge of the water (imagine a handful of rubber-bands being stretched to different lengths and then plucked at irregular intervals, rather like you used to do at school and you;ll get the gist of it).
The path led us on along a couple of boardwalks, where we admired the glinting beauty of Ringtail damselflies, then over a little sand dune and there was Hazards Bay in all its glory. White sand stretched away in either direction; the sea was a rich medley of blues, ripening from near-shore turquoise to a vivid ultramarine in the distance; the sheoaks along the dunes drooped grey-green sibilant-hissing needles towards the sand. All very tourist brochure really...
|Metallic Ringtail damselfly|
|Hazards Bay colours|
We wandered - paddled - up the waters'-edge to the point where the rocks started and the path led us inland again, then stopped for a well-deserved lunch-break. The rest of the walk became little bit of a slog, to be honest: the path undulated along between the sheoaks, the sun beat down in its usual fashion, and the view north to Cole's Bay apeared intermittently through the trees. The rather basic map of the route was a little misleading, and we were grateful to eventually reach the carpark, where we were greeted by a couple of optimistic Red-necked Wallabies looking for handouts.
|Red-necked (Bennett's) Wallaby.|
We continued on to the nearby lighthouse, where we sat in what was rapidly becoming a rather biting westerly wind, relaxed and looked through another steady stream of Short-tailed Shearwaters, trying in vain to pick out something different amongst them. A couple of whales teased us into thinking they might be Southern Right Whales, but eventually proved to be Humpbacks - what's it coming to when I'm disappointed to see a Humpback?!
The following day, our final full day in Tassie, was spent exploring a little of the nearby Douglas-Apsley National Park. The park seems to be somewhat the poor relation of Freycinet as far as tourists go, but this was only to our liking. We trailed through the forest peacefully, watching Black Currawongs, Olive Whistlers and Superb Fairy-wrens until we eventually reached the end of the trail at the riverside. We waited patiently until the walkers who'd arrived before us decided where they were going, then headed off down the riverbed to get back to the car. The riverbed walk wasn't something you'd even entertain in the rain, but on a fine bright day with a nice low river it was great fun. We scrambled up and down along sweeping curves of rock worn smooth by the river, balanced and hopped our way across the smaller boulders and scrunched through the pebbles and gravels of the slower stretches, under the watchful gaze of a family party of Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos and a pair of Brown Falcons.
|Orchid (Caledenia fuscata)|
|End of the riverbed walk in Douglas-Apsley NP. Also the start of the walk if you wish.|
|Riverbed walk in the Douglas-Apsley NP|
|Riverbed walk in the Douglas-Apsley NP|
|A vertical sundew: Drosera peltata|
Returning to the car, we headed back along the road towards Freycinet, stopping off in the nearby town of Bicheno for dinner and a gentle seaside walk. Our final paying highlight of Tasmania was a visit to a nearby colony of Little Penguins (a.k.a. Fairy Penguins or Little Blue Penguins). We joined a small group of people at the local surf shop, hopped aboard the bus to the colony and set out on a guided walk which was both informative and enthusing. Our guide gathered us all from the bus and introduced himself, then explained that photographing penguins at colonies was now prohibited under Australian law (bang went my plan of trying to get some sneaky photos without flash!) and that there were some basic ground-rules to observe - which boiled down to keep behind me, don't make any more noise than necessary, and don't tread on the wildlife! All pretty easy to obey really...
|Female Superb Fairy-wren. A blurred male in the background.|
We wandered down the track to a small grove of trees as the light faded, waiting for the birds to arrive and learning some facts about penguin ecology and behaviour. A handful of artificial nest-burrows were tucked against a nearby shed, testament to several years of patient work by volunteers (timber cases) and local schools (concrete over chickenwire). Soon the pale light of the torch revealed a small group of penguins huddled near the rocks close to the waters' edge. More patient waiting - and a degree of quiet jostling for position - and the first birds came waddling up the path in front of us, pausing for their second breather about 10 metres away. The whole group of people were quietly spellbound, watching the birds stretching, preening and generally getting their courage and strength together for the final plod to the nest, where they would replace their partners for incubation duty. We were soon asked to follow on a little further, to the next point where another group of about 30 birds were taking their rest. We stood in a quiet half-circle along the path and waited whilst this group filtered between our feet - over feet in some cases - and towards their burrows. A chorus of mellow braying calls split the air around us as pairs reunited, reaffirming their bonds and ensuring that the bird about to take over control of the burrow was indeed the correct one.
Our final day in Tasmania was a relatively straightforward journey to the airport at Hobart. Unfortunately it began in driving rain, which rather disrupted our original plans of a walk. Instead we chickened out and sat in the car to see what we could see at the local Moulting Lagoon Ramsar site. Despite the rain coming straight at us, making it difficult to see much out of the windows without either losing visibility to rain or getting drenched, we enjoyed a peaceful half hour or so at a saltmarsh, complete with Black Swans, White-faced Chats, Pied Oystercatchers and Skylarks (yes, the common-or-garden Skylark was introduced to Tasmania, along with Blackbird, Goldfinch and Greenfinch).
|White Kunzea on the Bicheno coast|