Echoes of Belonging

The morning light cast long shadows across Little Pine Lagoon as we prepared to depart, each ripple on the water's surface seeming to whisper of adventures yet to come. Our reluctance to leave spoke of the profound way this place had touched our souls, yet the promise of new horizons beckoned with gentle insistence.

Derwent Bridge and Lake St Clair called to us, not just as destinations but as guardians of stories waiting to be discovered. The southern terminus of the Overland Track stood as a testament to countless journeys of transformation, its six-day trek a future promise we held close to our hearts - a dream to be shared one day with our adult children, when time and circumstance would weave our family's paths together once more.

In Bronte, a Highland town where water and wisdom flowed in equal measure, a chance encounter with a local resident walking their dog sparked profound reflection. Their casual mention of the approaching peak season touched on something deeper - our own evolution from travelers to something more intimate. After nearly a year in Tasmania, we inhabited that beautiful space between visitor and resident, nomads who had learned that home isn't a fixed point on a map but a state of being, a way of moving through the world with open hearts.

Anth's quest for a geocache led us to a piece of living history - a wooden stave pipe still carrying water after seventy years, its continued service a metaphor for the enduring spirit of this island and its people. These moments of discovery, these touchstones with the past, reminded us that every path we walked was layered with stories.

Lake St Clair unveiled its beauty gradually, first through the Frankland Beaches walk, where we merged our running program with the simple joy of exploration. The shoreline became our companion, walking platforms and beaches creating a rhythm beneath our feet as the lake's magnificent vistas stretched endlessly before us. Each step, whether running or walking, felt like a conversation with the landscape.

Our camp outside the National Park became a sanctuary of simplicity, shared only with one other soul seeking solitude. The Watersmeet Circuit the next day offered a different kind of meditation, its paths inviting quiet contemplation as clouds gathered and rain threatened. Weather, we had learned, was not an obstacle but a different lens through which to view the world's beauty.

As predicted, our peaceful camp transformed into a bustling waypoint for travellers heading to and from Queenstown. Yet even in this ebb and flow of visitors, we found our own rhythm, understanding that each person's journey held its own purpose, its own timeline.

When Sal's calf signaled for gentler progress, we adapted without resistance. This journey had taught us that sometimes the most profound experiences come not from pushing forward but from knowing when to pause, when to listen to both body and soul. As we bid farewell to Lake St Clair, its waters holding memories of our footsteps along its shores, we carried with us not just experiences but a deeper understanding of what it means to truly belong - not to a place, but to a way of being in the world.

The road to Queenstown and the West Coast beckoned, another chapter waiting to unfold in our continuing story of discovery, adaptation, and growth.Meer informatie