Beach Walks & Hidden Treasures

Over the Tasman Bridge and north to Sorell to collect Sal's contacts, which had been ordered a few days earlier and had come in, and which she would rather have in hand than have to sort out in Queensland.

Then out to Seven Mile Beach, on the strength of a recommendation from Justin and Tevin back in June. Justin has been off the island for months and we are still using his advice; he told us about the Mystery Creek glowworms too. Andy had been through more recently and confirmed it. The day use area sits ten minutes from the airport, which was the whole point, because Sal was flying in the morning.

We walked the beach in the afternoon.

Seven Mile is long and flat and open, and walking it stirred something neither of us expected: it walks like Wurtulla. Same width, same gradient, same firm damp sand at the waterline, and both of us said so at about the same time.

Wurtulla is where the bus was built. Not in a shed, on the street outside the house, over months, with the two of us going down to that beach in the evenings when we had had enough of it. It was a vehicle in pieces then and a plan we had not tested. We used to walk that sand and talk about exactly this: living in it, going somewhere, not knowing where.

Nine months later, on a beach on the other side of Bass Strait that happens to feel identical, with the thing built and the plan tested. And Sal flying out in the morning to empty the house the plan was launched from, because Sophie and Mack are moving into places of their own and the lease is up and it is time. Nobody we knew was on that beach and nobody was expecting us anywhere.

Back at the bus Sal had a tutorial, live, at a set time, so she sat at the table with headphones on while Anth went into the pine plantation behind the beach with a couple of hours of light left and came out with half a dozen caches. Plantation forest is good for it: even rows, easy access, and nobody about.

He got back around dark, as she was finishing.

Then the nightly performance. A gold seven-metre bus with solar panels on the roof, parked in a day use area, attempting to look unoccupied. We pull every curtain, rely on the limo tinting, and keep the lights low, and it is a reasonable effort right up until anybody looks at the roof. We have never been asked to move. Whether that is stealth or simply nobody minding, we could not tell you.

Last night together for a fortnight. She flew in the morning and Anth would drive back south to Gordon and wait.Read more