Healing Waters, Hidden Treasures

In the gentle embrace of a Tasmanian morning, we found ourselves drawn back to Glenorchy, our hearts already yearning for the wild western shores that awaited us. The day began with life's simple rhythms - Sal's long-awaited hair appointment, a moment of self-care before our next adventure, while Anth found meditation in the hypnotic spin of laundromat machines, our clothes dancing in sudsy circles. These mundane tasks held a deeper meaning, marking the transition between civilisation and wilderness that lay ahead.

Our familiar sanctuary in Sorell beckoned with its final errand, the post office standing as a lighthouse in what had become our temporary home port. Time, that eternal trickster, had slipped through our fingers like grains of sand, leaving us to seek shelter until morning's light. Through Wikicamps, we discovered our evening's refuge - a peaceful strip of beach at Lauderdale. Yet before we could rest, we faced an unexpected detour - Anth's health had taken a challenging turn, with an infected throat joining forces with his persistent shingles, requiring a visit to the after-hours doctor.

In celebration of Sal's academic perseverance and as a healing balm for Anth's ailments, we treated ourselves to pizza - a simple pleasure that carried profound memories. The aroma wafting through our mobile home transported us back to precious moments shared with Grammy and Fran months ago, reminding us how time moves both swiftly and slowly in this nomadic life we've chosen.

We arrived after dark, moving with the discretion of those who understand the unspoken rhythms of transient living. We nestled our bus into its temporary haven, the pizza's warmth matching the comfort of our cozy home. The ocean's rhythmic whispers became our lullaby, each wave a gentle reminder of nature's constant presence in our lives.

The following day brought the joy of geocaching, Anth's treasure-hunting passion leading us on local adventures. We played a careful dance with time and space, disappearing during daylight hours only to return like nocturnal creatures to our beachside sanctuary.

Dawn broke with golden news - Sal's dedication to learning had earned her another High Distinction, her academic journey blooming like wildflowers along our physical one. This triumph sparked an impulse to explore further, drawing us toward the South Arm Peninsula, where Anth's quest for a 21-year-old cache beckoned like a siren's call.

At Goat Bluff Lookout, history emerged from the landscape in the form of a World War 2 bunker, its concrete shoulders still bearing the weight of untold stories. The geocache hidden there felt like a bridge between past and present, connecting us to both history and the modern-day treasure hunters who had come before.

Our journey led us to Opossum Bay, where the road surrendered to nature. While Sal rested in our wheeled sanctuary, Anth embarked on a solitary pilgrimage through Gellibrand Point nature area, his recovering strength carrying him through the 5km round trip. Each step was a celebration of healing, each breath a reminder of returning health.

Reunited, we turned our compass back toward Sorell, our hearts already dancing with anticipation for the western wilderness that awaited us.Читать далее