Waddamana: Where Four Make a Crowd

As dawn's first light filtered through the bus windows, we took a lingering look back at the serene Penstock Lagoon, bidding farewell to the last traces of snow that clung to the landscape like scattered pearls. Our hearts brimmed with gratitude for the unforgettable weeks spent in this frosty haven, but the call of warmer climes beckoned us southward, promising new stories and adventures.

Choosing the road less traveled, we opted for a longer, scenic route, abandoning the familiar paths of our earlier journeys. This decision led us to the storied Waddamana Power Station, a relic of our past explorations. Yet, this time, it was not the history of the station that captivated us, but the quaint charm of Waddamana village itself.

As we approached, we realised we'd stumbled upon a gathering that could only be described as a town meeting - albeit one that involved three-quarters of the entire population. The charm and absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on us; Waddamana's grand total of four residents, minus one, had converged for their morning ritual.

Llry and Toni, the heart and soul of this van-café, welcomed us like old friends. The air was thick with the comforting aroma of freshly baked pastries and rich, aromatic coffee. We lost ourselves in their stories, painting a vivid tapestry of life in this secluded corner of the world, while indulging in their delicious creations—gifts that made our hearts and bellies full. It was a bittersweet parting as we promised to return, leaving behind this slice of warmth amid the rolling hills.

Back on the dirt road, Anth's spirit of adventure shone as he collected geocaches, treasures hidden amid the rugged terrain, while Sal immersed herself in her studies. Soon, we found ourselves on the Lake Highway, a familiar ribbon of road that cradled us northward before we veered East onto a new path, one that led us to the tranquil waters of Lake Sorell and Lake Crescent.

The Tasmanian Highlands unfolded around us, a landscape so distinct from the mainland's familiar vistas. The rugged beauty of these highlands whispered secrets of ancient earth and untamed wilderness. We arrived at our haven for the night, Dago Point, perched gracefully above the shimmering expanse of Lake Sorell. Here, solitude enveloped us once more, the absence of other campers lending an air of exclusivity to our winter retreat.

For two blissful nights, we luxuriated in the embrace of milder temperatures, a gentle reprieve from the snow-kissed chill of our previous encampment. The tranquil serenity of the lake mirrored our peaceful spirits, as we soaked in the surrounding beauty, feeling as if the world had paused just for us.

But as with all journeys, ours too had to continue. Our water reserves exhausted, we packed up our mobile sanctuary and set our sights on Launceston. Sal had an appointment with her hairdresser, a small return to routine amidst our nomadic life—a reminder that even as we roam, the ties to the everyday weave seamlessly into our extraordinary journey.Read more