Lost and Found: Tales from Chauncy Vale

Our journey back into Hobart began with a familiar stop at the post office, a place that had become a regular waypoint in our nomadic life. Each visit brought a few more bits and pieces for the bus, our ever-evolving beast, a sanctuary on wheels that we constantly tinkered with to suit our needs.

With a map spread before us, we hunted for a nearby camp and luck was on our side. Just thirty minutes north, a donation bush camp beckoned us with the promise of solitude and nature. The bus rumbled to life as we made a quick detour for water and groceries, a stark reminder of how our life on the road had made us acutely aware of water's preciousness, something we had taken for granted in our previous stationary life.

Driving north, the road unfurled beneath us like a ribbon, one we had traveled months before on our way to Penstock Lagoon. This time, we veered off earlier, into the small, quaint town of Bagdad, where our camp awaited at Chauncy Vale Wildlife Reserve.

The reserve welcomed us with an eerie silence, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds. Though the spot was far from perfect, its isolation was a gift. The weather, predictably wet and cloudy, hung low over us, but it did little to dampen our spirits. On our second day, we embarked on a 6 km trek, exploring the ancient caves that whispered stories of the past.

The next day brought a reunion with Andy, Anth's mate from the Adelaide trial. Andy, who had longed for the freedom of the road, had finally taken the plunge, and his trip to Tasmania was his first venture into this new life. After meeting Sal and settling in, he retraced the walk we had done earlier, eager to immerse himself in the landscape.

As Andy ventured out, we settled into the cozy warmth of the bus. A notification on the phone brought news from Justin, a friend from the Gordon foreshore, who was eager to catch up. We invited him to join us around the fire, anticipating his arrival. Just as Justin neared, another notification pinged from Andy, who had taken a wrong turn and found himself far from camp. Fortunately, he had made it back to a road, though his return trek would be long. Justin, arriving just in time, offered his car to rescue Andy from the extra walk.

We laughed about Andy's misadventure as we basked in the fire's warmth. Andy soon left for his game of Ultimate Frisbee in Hobart, while Justin headed further south, leaving us to our quiet night.

Monday dawned with the bus booked for new airbags and a service at the local truck mechanics. Dropping it off early, we took advantage of Andy's car to explore the area. Our first stop was a laundromat, a mundane but necessary task. While the clothes tumbled in the dryer, we found solace in a local café, where breakfast and coffee became a moment of connection as Sal and Andy chatted and bonded.

With clean clothes and full stomachs, we drove up the Derwent, the landscape unfolding in its wintery beauty. Our exploration led us to Kingston Beach, where we enjoyed a late lunch and a leisurely stroll along the foreshore, the salty breeze a refreshing change.

Returning to collect the bus, we received mostly good news, with only a few minor issues to address at the next service. Deciding on one more night at Chauncy Vale, we planned our next leg of the journey west towards Lake Pedder, eager for the adventures that lay ahead.Read more