Primrose Sands

As the countdown to our Japanese adventure ticked down to its final week, we found ourselves seeking one last Tasmanian haven before our flight to visit Torrin, our eldest. The familiar landmarks around Hobart had become like old friends over our months of wandering, but Lime Bay on the Tasman Peninsula still held the promise of undiscovered territory, just a scenic hour and a half from the airport.

The journey itself proved to be quintessentially Tasmanian. As we guided our trusty bus through Dunalley, a town whose weatherboard facades had become familiar friends on our previous passages, we encountered one of the island's spiky residents. There, in the middle of the road, a determined echidna waddled along, completely oblivious to the modern world around it. We brought our home-on-wheels to a gentle stop, and with careful coaxing, helped guide the prehistoric-looking creature back to the safety of the roadside vegetation.

The road carried us onwards, crossing the iconic Eaglehawk Neck - that narrow strip of land that holds so many dark convict tales - before turning north into uncharted territory. The anticipation of discovering a new corner of Tasmania built with each turn, until finally, Lime Bay revealed itself to us like a gift being unwrapped.

The campground was a slice of coastal paradise, with sites scattered along the bay's edge. Monday's quietude meant we had our pick of spots, and we chose one that spoke to both our practical and aesthetic sensibilities. Our bus, our beloved home, stood proudly in the full sun - a position other campers often avoided but one that suited us perfectly. The tropical roof created by our solar panels, combined with our tinted windows and excellent insulation, kept us comfortable while harvesting the sun's energy. It was our own little sustainable sanctuary with a view.

As the days drifted by, like clouds across the Tasmanian sky, the solitude we'd grown accustomed to during the winter months gradually gave way to the bustle of spring. The Hobart show holiday brought an influx of weekend warriors, filling the once-peaceful campground with the sounds of family life and holiday excitement.

Yet it was in this busy period that we experienced another moment of characteristic Tasmanian generosity. Simon and Sue, locals from the nearby Boomer Bay, emerged as guardian angels, offering their yard as a safe haven for our bus during our upcoming Japanese sojourn. Their kindness reinforced what we'd learned over and over - that Tasmania's true treasure lies in its people's hearts.

While the campground hummed with activity, Sal immersed herself in her university work, the gentle sound of typing mixing with the coastal breeze as she tackled three challenging assignments. The relief was palpable when she finally submitted them, just days before our planned departure. To celebrate this academic milestone, we embraced the perfect spring weather, setting out on a hike across our small peninsula. Our reward was a pristine beach, completely deserted, where the only footprints in the sand were our own - a final, perfect moment of Tasmanian solitude before our upcoming international adventure.

As Sunday dawned, the campground stirred with the familiar rhythm of weekend warriors packing up their temporary homes. We too began our departure preparations, our movements practiced and purposeful after months on the road. Our timing had been impeccable - our food stores had dwindled to their last morsels the previous evening, a testament to our growing expertise in provisioning our nomadic lifestyle.

But before making our way to our temporary haven at Simon and Sue's, we felt drawn to explore one last piece of Tasmania's complex history. The Coal Mine Historic Site stood as a somber sentinel to Tasmania's convict past, its weathered ruins whispering stories of hardship and survival. For several contemplative hours, we wandered through the remnants of this penal settlement, our footsteps echoing across worn stone floors where convict laborers once toiled. The site served as a powerful reminder of the harsh foundations upon which modern Tasmania was built, each crumbling wall and rusted iron bar a chapter in the island's compelling narrative.

With our spirits full of historical reflection, we made a quick detour to extinguish our hunger before steering our bus toward Boomer Bay. As dusk approached, we arrived at Simon and Sue's property, our final resting place before our Japanese adventure. Their warm welcome and generous hospitality felt like a fitting farewell to an island that had shown us so much kindness over the months. As we settled in for our last night in Tasmania, we couldn't help but feel grateful for the serendipitous encounters and unexpected friendships that the nomadic life continues to bring our way.Read more