Fire & Frost: Birthday in the Highlands

The bittersweet tang of farewell lingered in the air as we bid adieu to Michael and Amanda, our hearts already turning to the next chapter of our nomadic odyssey. Sal's birthday loomed on the horizon, a beacon of celebration amidst our wanderings. Her wish, to nestle in the embrace of snow-draped wilderness, hung like a fragile dream in the capricious Tasmanian weather. Though the fickle gods of climate seemed to conspire against us, our spirits remained undaunted. The siren call of the Central Highlands beckoned once more, drawing us back to the familiar shores of Penstock Lagoon, a place etched in our memories from adventures past.

Our journey's first waypoint found us at the local Fedex depot, anticipation thrumming through our veins as we collected a long-awaited treasure - the Dweller, a hot tent stove that promised warmth without the acrid veil of smoke. Though we lacked a hot tent to house it, the mere thought of its cozy glow kindled excitement in our hearts as we set our sights on the frigid heights that awaited us.

The road unfurled before us like a ribbon of memories, leading us past Chauncyvale, where echoes of laughter shared with Andy during his Tasmanian sojourn still seemed to linger in the air. As we climbed higher, the landscape transformed around us, shedding the familiar for the wild beauty of sub-alpine moorlands. Recent rains had left their mark, turning the world into a glistening tapestry of water and light that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Leaving the Lake Highway behind, we embraced the rugged charm of the dirt road that snaked its way to Penstock Lagoon. The ten-kilometer stretch flew by in a blur of anticipation, and soon we found ourselves in the welcoming arms of a now-familiar haven. Nostalgia guided us to the boat ramp where we had first laid our heads in this enchanted place. The sparse tree cover offered a perfect stage for our solar panels to drink deeply of the sun's energy, a vital preparation for the moody weather that loomed on the horizon.

Sal's birthday dawned without the hoped-for blanket of snow, but love found a way to make the day special. A steaming cup of coffee, lovingly prepared and presented in bed, became our quiet celebration of another year of adventures shared. The day's centrepiece was a poignant lunch at the Great Lakes Hotel with Amanda and Michael, a bittersweet farewell tinged with the promise of reunion. As they prepared to trade the roads of Tasmania for the shores of New Zealand, we marvelled at the unexpected friendships forged in the crucible of our nomadic existence. Their decision to swap wheels for waves, inspired by our own journey, filled us with a sense of kinship and possibility.

Returning to our lakeside sanctuary, we settled into a rhythm as timeless as the water lapping at the shore. Days unfolded in a peaceful tableau of fly fishermen casting their lines into the mirror-like surface of the lagoon, their silhouettes etched against the sky from dawn to dusk. Our explorations took us along winding roads and to hidden campsites, each step a discovery. The frisbee, a parting gift from Andy, became our companion in moments of joyful play, its arc through the air a reminder of friendship's enduring nature.

As evening shadows lengthened, the Dweller stove came into its own. Together, we foraged in the surrounding bush, gathering armfuls of wood. The satisfying crackle of the fire and the warm glow it cast transformed our campsite into a cozy haven against the encroaching chill of highland nights.

Though snow remained elusive, the promise of its arrival hung tantalizingly in the air, whispered on every breeze. Yet fate, ever capricious, had other plans. An unexpected summons from the mainland tugged at Anth, necessitating a hasty departure. Once more, we found ourselves retracing familiar paths, the road to Launceston unspooling before us past the serene expanse of Arthur Lake and through the quaint charm of Poatina.

As the urban skyline of Launceston grew on the horizon, we felt the familiar mix of excitement and nostalgia that always accompanied our transitions from wilderness to civilisation. Another town day approached, bringing with it the promise of new adventures and the bittersweet knowledge that every journey, no matter how winding, must sometimes lead us back to the world we left behind. Yet in our hearts, we knew that the call of the open road, of hidden lagoons and snow-capped peaks, would soon lure us back into the wild embrace of Tasmania's highlands.Читать далее