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(>Pictures at the bottom)
…a tour of the island…
…or at the end of the Australian roads.
For a long time, Tasmania was not a destination for us, nor did we express any interest in this southern island. It was only on the tour to Cape York/Queensland that the desire to travel there grew. So we added this adventure to our Australia trip. We were also told that the ferry crossings would be booked up well in advance and that during the peak holiday season – December/January – it would be almost impossible to get a booking. So we immediately booked our two crossings (they were the last places available until the end of March!) and were suddenly convinced that this part of Australia should not be missed. Other travellers told us that it was always cold and rainy on this island surrounded by the Southern Ocean, which made us a little sceptical again. But the travel season should be right; in any case, we were excited, and my travel guide (Tom) also says that Tasmania should not be missed on a trip to Australia.
The crossing from Geelong to Devonport took a whole night and we once again enjoyed the comforts of a warm cabin with a toilet/shower right next door. We enjoyed this luxury twice over; the spartan life in the woods was not only a great adventure. The constant rain and cool temperatures often got on our nerves.
When we arrived in Devonport, Tasmania, in the morning, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky. Which pessimist had told us about bad weather and stormy conditions? After all, the Tassies (as the inhabitants of Tasmania are called) produce excellent wines, and without sun and warmth, this would certainly not be possible. In any case, we were looking forward to island life and immediately joined the many other tourists and travellers in the shopping frenzy at the nearest supermarket. Everyone had to replenish their supplies, as no fresh food was allowed to be taken on board. Before the vehicles were loaded in Geelong, the cars were meticulously checked.
We were in high spirits, feeling like we could move mountains. While a fresh sea breeze from Bass Strait swept across the car park, we stowed away vast quantities of fresh food. We rightly assumed that in remote locations, the selection of certain foods might be rather limited and that the range of products in roadside shops would tend to reflect local eating habits.
We started our tour clockwise, as a bad weather front was already approaching from the southern ocean in the west, and the decision was spot on for the time being. As expected, as soon as we left Devonport behind us, we found ourselves in a sparsely populated landscape. Large farms lined our route, followed by even larger forest areas where timber is used industrially, leading to huge clear-cuts. The scars on the landscape not only left a shocking impression in the forest areas, but also gave us pause for thought. The global demand for paper must be endless.
Our journey took us to the north-eastern cape, where wallabies and Tasmanian devils bid each other good night. Out there, there is almost nothing except lots of nature and thousands of sheep. We also enjoyed our camps in this lonely landscape and were repeatedly surprised that most of the official camping sites were free. We had to purchase a two-month subscription in advance for the parks, which was also sufficient for overnight stays in most national parks and state forests in Tasmania.
On the east coast, also known as Bay of Fires, the weather changed and temperatures dropped to the low single digits. The evening fire usually kept us warm for quite a while, but it was no longer really pleasant. At St. Helens, we headed inland and roamed through huge forest areas where state and private companies were competing to fell trees. Although reforestation follows clear-cutting, the sights were always shocking.
The constant rain and very cool temperatures forced us back into lower-lying areas, so we soon followed the coast southwards again. Our next destination was the Tasman Peninsula, where we encountered another dark chapter in British imperialism. In addition to the ‘black war’ against the Tasmanian indigenous population, not only were 350 adult convicts imprisoned in Port Arthur for forced labour, but over 600 young people were also held on an offshore island for punishment. Surprisingly, 200 years ago in England, children from around the age of 10 were sentenced like adults and immediately deported overseas. The ruins of forced labour and punishment throughout the peninsula still bear witness to the harsh and inhumane measures taken.
Hobart’s local mountain – Kunanyi/Mount Wellington – was of course a must-see on our tour; and we scrambled up the steep and narrow road to the federal capital’s local mountain. Unfortunately, it was rather uncomfortable at the top, with a cold wind whistling over the mountain peak. The view down was very limited, but it was quite damp and we had the feeling that a few snowflakes were floating down to earth between the raindrops.
The city of Hobart did not captivate us for very long. We set off to reach the end of the Australian roads. Cockle Creek was the final stop; further south, you can only hike through the jungle for a few hours and get soaked by the rain. To the west lie the Southwest and Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Parks. The two parks are considered the largest contiguous protected area in the world. Cars cannot pass through, and only experienced bushwalkers can and are allowed to enter this area.
We were also very surprised that these parks do not actually have a long tradition. Protest movements made these areas known worldwide and saved them from deforestation. Today, you can follow the giant trees along countless hiking trails and marvel at their great age. It is not uncommon for these giant trees to look back on over 400 years of history, when we Europeans did not even know where Australia was.
After seeing the giant trees, we wanted to take a side road out to the west and spend another night out there in solitude. After many kilometres of forest road, we found ourselves in front of a locked gate; the end of the journey. Instead of going to Strathgordon in the deep jungle and rainforest, we took the same route back and continued on to National Park, a small village at the foot of Mount Field National Park.
The night was very cold and in the morning there was a little snow on the mountain ranges of Mount Field N.P. The sun breathed the necessary energy into us and we headed for the high plateau. For this day, I (Tom) also took the time for a short hike up to the ski area. What was supposed to be a short hike turned into a four-hour excursion into the high mountains, where I hiked through high moors and over boulders. It was a great experience, with hardly a soul in sight. Further down, at Russell Falls, mass tourism caught up with me, or rather us, again. Crowds of people in neat hiking gear hiked from the car park to this famous waterfall.
We turned our backs on mass tourism and travelled on to the central high plateau, where there are huge lakes, all of which are now connected in some way and the water is used to generate electricity. This plateau with its many lakes is located at over 1,200 metres above sea level and it was very chilly around midday. Even before we checked the weather data, we were convinced that it would be very cold at this altitude at night. So we reduced our altitude by 700 metres and found a campsite in a valley that was also very well protected from the wind. Of course, a short hike to the Liffey Falls was a must at this camp.
I (Tom) undercut the specified hiking time and halved it.
Admittedly, the weather forecast for the coming days was not exactly promising. The day after next, thick clouds were expected to reach Tasmania again from the west. Despite this announcement, we started our tour to the west coast. Maybe it won’t be half as bad, and as we all know, hope dies last. Once again, we drove through the Southwest and Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Parks towards the west side. The sun shone all day long and we settled down for the night on the shore of Lake Burbury. Although it was still cloudless, a stronger wind was already blowing across the lake.
It happened as it had to happen; even before Queenstown, the continuous rain set in and the temperatures were correspondingly low. Until Straham, our windscreen wipers whirred continuously and we didn’t feel like stopping anywhere on this rainy coast. In Rosebery, a still active mining settlement, we surfed the internet and the weather reports. Surely it must be a little drier somewhere? In the end, we went on a monster tour over countless mountain passes and in the evening we found ourselves back at the campsite where we had spent the night two days earlier.
The heavy rain and wind somehow made us creative and we cleverly chose the corner of the island where it was a little more pleasant. So we drove to the north coast and returned to the Liffey Falls the next day. The time remaining until the ferry crossing back to the ‘mainland’ – by which the Tassies mean Australia – was shrinking to a few days, and we still hadn’t reached the west coast, where I (Tom) really wanted to go.
Our patience was finally rewarded; a high-pressure system cleared away the last clouds and we had picture-perfect weather for the last three days. We were delighted that it was going to work out after all and scrambled back over countless passes and hills to the west coast.
Not the entire area on the west coast is under nature conservation; certain areas are excluded. There, mining companies are busy extracting raw materials from the ground. The gravel roads suffer in places from the heavy loads of the oversized lorries. We too bumped along for hours over the gruelling corrugated road towards the west coast. Finally, we reached the turn-off towards Arthur River and were once again able to explore a vast area left to nature. Human settlements are nowhere to be found here; when the area was settled 200 years ago, it was probably too harsh and uninviting for people. So nature remained as it once was.
The date for the boat trip was getting closer and closer. Along the north coast to Devonport, we visited a few tourist hotspots where, according to my book, you have to stop. What the book didn’t mention, however, was the wildlife park just outside Devonport. So we got to see the endangered Tasmanian devils and a few young animals from the breeding programme. Chantal was more than happy and the memory card in her camera was almost full. 😉
Our Tasmanian adventure was over; we stood on the deck, feeling a little wistful, and waved to the passers-by on the shore one last time. We arrived in sunshine and we left in sunshine. Despite the many unpleasantries, it was an unforgettable few days.And on the return journey, we once again enjoyed the luxury of a cabin with a shower and a warm bed. The gentle swell soon lulled us into a deep sleep; it’s supposed to be warmer on the ‘mainland’. Hopefully!
Chantal and Tom/mid-December 2025
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