Having brought our bicycles all this way, it was encumbent on us to actually ride somewhere, so we rode around Stanley briefly before falling into chairs at Moby Dick's and ordering an enormous breakfast. The friendly grey-haired chap we assume was the owner cooked it while singing along to a 60's sound track. They know who their customers are around Stanley. It was a good breakfast.
It only took us about two hours to do our first camp pack-up and stow-back in the vehicle and we almost remained civil to each other throughout the process. Meanwhile the German couple next door collapsed their tent, packed up and calmly left with their toddler in about half an hour. We decided that some time and motion efficiencies would need to be achieved in the Glenn-Hume operation.
Having left our camera data transfer cables at home, we decided we had to buy new ones, somewhere. So we tried Smithton, a middle sized town. No luck, but there was an especially helpful chap at the general goods and appliance repair shop who showed us how to download directly from the card. So if you go to Smithton, try to give him some business.
The Tarkine: superlatives fail me. Even driving into the area was magical, passing through drifts of white butterflies and the road lined with white wildflowers. Recommend Tarkine Forest Adventures, a well-run outfit that is a tribute to the vision of a forester, Wes Beckett, who campaigned to save these few hectares from the cattle industry. The result is a little piece of deep mossy forest with a richly diverse sinkhole at its centre. We biked past monster trunks of myrtle beech and “stingy bark” (sic) (eucalyptus obliqua) soaring blackwoods and lichen covered sassafras.
It only took us about two hours to do our first camp pack-up and stow-back in the vehicle and we almost remained civil to each other throughout the process. Meanwhile the German couple next door collapsed their tent, packed up and calmly left with their toddler in about half an hour. We decided that some time and motion efficiencies would need to be achieved in the Glenn-Hume operation.
Having left our camera data transfer cables at home, we decided we had to buy new ones, somewhere. So we tried Smithton, a middle sized town. No luck, but there was an especially helpful chap at the general goods and appliance repair shop who showed us how to download directly from the card. So if you go to Smithton, try to give him some business.
The Tarkine: superlatives fail me. Even driving into the area was magical, passing through drifts of white butterflies and the road lined with white wildflowers. Recommend Tarkine Forest Adventures, a well-run outfit that is a tribute to the vision of a forester, Wes Beckett, who campaigned to save these few hectares from the cattle industry. The result is a little piece of deep mossy forest with a richly diverse sinkhole at its centre. We biked past monster trunks of myrtle beech and “stingy bark” (sic) (eucalyptus obliqua) soaring blackwoods and lichen covered sassafras.
There is a stillness, moistness and shady woody leafy smell that is just wonderful. In the depths you can see the little mud towers of the tiny land crayfish that help the blackwoods germinate.
That night we re-joined the Boroughs and camped on the soft grass in the lee of the sand dunes at Nelson River. As remote as you could wish. No neighbours but the wallabies. No sound but the waves. And the sun still shining, and the famous winds off the great Southern Ocean were amazingly stilled. So far, we told ourselves, we have been so, so lucky in our trip.
That night we re-joined the Boroughs and camped on the soft grass in the lee of the sand dunes at Nelson River. As remote as you could wish. No neighbours but the wallabies. No sound but the waves. And the sun still shining, and the famous winds off the great Southern Ocean were amazingly stilled. So far, we told ourselves, we have been so, so lucky in our trip.
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