Crimson Skies, Bittersweet Goodbyes

As the wheels of our faithful Bus crunched over the familiar gravel road leading to Ben Lomond National Park, a bittersweet nostalgia washed over us. This place, just 40 kilometers away from our previous stop, held memories of laughter and camaraderie from months past. The journey, though short, felt weighted with the knowledge that it marked the last chapter of our shared adventure for a short time.

We couldn't resist the siren call of the quaint café that stood sentinel at the park's entrance. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the crisp mountain air, instantly transporting us back to our first visit. As we savoured our meal, the familiar surroundings seemed to whisper of the impending change, each bite tinged with a melancholy sweetness.

Driving into the park, an eerie stillness greeted us. The campsite, once alive with the jovial banter of lads gathered around a crackling fire, now lay deserted. The absence of fellow travellers only amplified the sense of finality hanging in the air. We chose our spot – the same one we'd claimed before – as if trying to recapture a moment in time.

As dusk approached, we found ourselves drawn to the lookout, our feet carrying us along the well-worn path. The sky erupted in a breathtaking display of crimson, painting the world in warm, ethereal hues. Through the silhouetted trees, the setting sun seemed to bid us a fiery farewell, its rays reaching out like tendrils of flame across the landscape.

Our two nights in this tranquil haven passed all too quickly. On the second day, we embarked on a casual stroll down the road, ostensibly for Anth to locate a long-hidden geocache. But in truth, each step felt like a pilgrimage, an homage to the journey we'd shared. The fact that this little treasure had been hidden for over two decades added a poignant touch to our quest – a reminder of the enduring nature of some things amidst life's constant changes.

Though we didn't tackle any arduous hikes this time, the serene beauty of our surroundings seeped into our souls. We found ourselves imagining future visits, perhaps with our children in tow, introducing them to the freedom and joy of van life in this Tasmanian paradise. The thought brought both comfort and a twinge of longing for what lay ahead.

Our final morning arrived with a crispness that seemed to match the sharpness of our emotions. As we prepared for the drive to Launceston, the early morning light cast long shadows across our campsite, as if trying to hold onto the night just a little longer. Sal's upcoming flight loomed in our minds, a tangible endpoint to this chapter of our travels.

The drive into the city was quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts and memories. For Sal, the visit to her favourite hairdresser wasn't just about maintenance; it was a ritual, a final touch of normalcy before stepping back into a different life for a while. As she sat in the salon chair, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds, Anth couldn't help but wonder about the stories she'd share of our adventures, and the new ones she'd bring back from Queensland.

As the afternoon waned and the time for goodbyes drew near, the weight of the moment settled upon us. This wasn't just a departure; it was a pause in our shared journey, a comma in the story of our nomadic life.Weiterlesen