Freedoms Gift: Return to the Open Road

As we exchanged our final farewells with Simon, he surprised us with a parting treasure—a small pewter octopus crafted by his own hands. The delicate creature, with its intricate tentacles frozen in metallic splendor, represented not just his artistic skill but the connection we had formed during our multiple stays at Boomer Bay. We carefully nestled this precious memento within our home, another small story-keeper to accompany us on our continuing journey.

With the emotional reunion of family behind us and Simon's generosity sending us forth, we pointed our gold chariot northward along Tasmania's eastern coastline. Our destination existed only as a vague concept—"north" and "coastal" the only parameters guiding our path. After weeks of schedules, appointments, and the beautiful constraints of family gatherings, this return to unstructured wandering washed over us like a cleansing tide. The familiar excitement of unlimited possibility—that particular magic of the open road—rekindled within us as we watched the landscape unfold through our windscreen.

Mayfield Beach, where we had briefly sheltered almost exactly a year earlier, presented itself as our first potential anchorage. Though objectively beautiful with its sweeping shore and convenient facilities, something indefinable about the energy failed to resonate with us on this visit. Perhaps it was the angle of late-autumn light, or maybe the subtle shift in our own perspectives after so many months of Tasmanian exploration, but the connection we seek in our stopping places remained elusive. Without hesitation or regret, we continued our coastal progression, trusting that instinct which has so often guided us to perfect sanctuary.

Not far beyond, we passed the distinctive silhouette of Spikey Bridge—that curious colonial construction of jagged stones that had fascinated Grammy and Fran during their visit over 12 months earlier. Just beyond this historical landmark, we discovered Spikey Beach Day Use area—a modest gravel expanse offering magnificent coastal views while remaining comfortably secluded from the main road's traffic. The moment we pulled in, that ineffable sense of rightness—the nomad's intuition—confirmed we had found our place. With practiced eyes, we identified the most level position available and eased our bus into its temporary home.

From our elevated perch, the panoramic view stretched eastward across azure waters toward the magnificent granite peaks of Freycinet National Park. The distinctive profile of the Hazards—those rose-hued mountains that define Tasmania's eastern coastline—stood in perfect silhouette against the afternoon sky. As daylight faded, we settled into the comfortable rituals of stationary life—windows aligned to maximize the vista, chairs positioned to celebrate the view, the quiet hum of systems transitioning from movement to dwelling.

Morning delivered its masterpiece as the sun emerged from behind Freycinet's distant mountains. We watched, mugs of steaming coffee warming our hands, as golden light poured across the water, transforming ordinary waves into dancing flames of reflected brilliance. This daily ceremony—this oldest of earthly performances—never diminishes in its capacity to inspire wonder, particularly when witnessed from the perfect vantage of one's own home parked at the edge of beauty.

With our solar panels drinking deeply from Tasmania's autumn sunshine, we descended to the beach itself, feet tracing patterns on sand that constantly rewrites itself with each tide's passage. The solitude and space felt particularly precious after the beautiful intensity of family reunion—not a rejection of connection but rather its necessary counterpoint. Here, on this quiet strand with only seabirds for company, we rediscovered the particular peace that comes from being absolutely nowhere and perfectly present.

Later that day, we returned our home to its mobile configuration—the familiar choreography of securing items, retracting components, and preparing for movement now so ingrained it required barely conscious thought. With one last appreciative glance toward Freycinet's distant profile, we rejoined the coastal road, continuing our northward progression along Tasmania's eastern edge. Our farewell tour of this beloved island had truly begun, each stop now carrying the bittersweet awareness of finality, each sunrise counting down toward our eventual departure from these shores that had so thoroughly captured our hearts.Read more