The Final Tasmanian Pages

With the Spirit of Tasmania ferry departure date looming just two nights away, we unfurled the familiar digital pages of Wikicamps once again. The parameters for our final camping location carried particular significance—close enough to Devonport to reach the ferry with comfortable margin, yet far enough from civilisation to provide proper conclusion to our wilderness sojourn. After almost eighteen months of extraordinary island discovery, these final coordinates demanded careful consideration.

"It should be somewhere special," Sal suggested as we scrolled through possibilities. "A proper farewell to Tasmania."

We initially set course for Forth, a location unexplored during our extensive Tasmanian adventures. As we journeyed northward, the highway sign for the Spirit of Tasmania terminal prompted unexpected emotional response—this metal marker that had previously signified beginning now represented imminent conclusion. The circular nature of our journey struck us profoundly; we had arrived as visitors and would depart as something more intimate—people who had allowed Tasmania to fundamentally reshape their understanding of home.

To our west, the Central Highlands revealed themselves through momentary breaks in cloud cover—those magnificent elevated plateaus where we had experienced some of our most profound wilderness connections. These brief glimpses felt almost sentient, as if the landscape itself acknowledged our departure with final display of the grandeur that had so thoroughly captured our hearts. Each revealed peak and valley carried specific memories—alpine hikes, snow-covered camps, extraordinary wildlife encounters—all accumulated into the rich tapestry of our Tasmanian chapter.

Arriving at Forth Recreation Reserve, we surveyed the utilitarian surroundings with unanimous recognition that this location failed to provide the emotional resonance our final Tasmanian nights demanded. Without need for extended discussion, we returned to Wikicamps' digital guidance, seeking alternative that would better honor our island farewell.

"What about Bannons Park?" Anth suggested, noticing the familiar name just twenty minutes distant.

This recommendation carried perfect synchronicity—we had twice before enjoyed this tranquil riverside sanctuary, once sharing it with Grammy and Fran during their Tasmanian visit. The location's established place in our personal geography made it ideal conclusion to our island story—returning to beloved territory rather than seeking new horizons, a circular completion rather than linear progression.

The bus transitioned smoothly into travel mode, and soon we were navigating the familiar approach to Bannons Park. The Leven River welcomed us with its gentle flow—that constant movement representing perfect metaphor for our own nomadic existence. With no other visitors claiming the peaceful surroundings, we positioned ourselves along the creek's edge, the running water providing natural soundtrack to our final Tasmanian moments.

"It feels right to end where we've been before," Sal observed as we leveled into position. This return to familiar ground carried its own particular comfort—no new discoveries required, simply appreciation of already beloved space.

Our final Tasmanian days assumed practical rhythm as we prepared our bus for mainland return. Exterior compartments received thorough inspection, interior spaces underwent thoughtful reorganisation, systems checked and double-checked for ferry transit. Throughout these mundane activities flowed constant undercurrent of awareness—each task represented not merely preparation for journey but conclusion of significant life chapter.

Tasmania's winter weather asserted itself through persistent rainfall, necessitating interior adaptation. Torrin established comfortable sleeping arrangement on the bus floor rather than risking tent deployment in saturated conditions. This cozy configuration—three bodies within our mobile sanctuary rather than extending into canvas annexes—seemed appropriate conclusion to our Tasmanian experience, bringing us together in shared space as we contemplated transition ahead.

Our second last day in Tasmania brought unexpected meteorological gift—sunshine breaking through winter cloud pattern, warming both landscape and spirits. We immediately repositioned the bus to maximize both solar harvesting and natural illumination through our large windows. This simple act—following the sun—had become so fundamental to our existence that we performed it without conscious thought, another element of nomadic wisdom absorbed through repetition.

As afternoon light painted Bannons Park with golden highlights, we found ourselves spontaneously sharing memories of our Tasmanian adventures—favorite camps recalled, wildlife encounters recounted, challenging moments reframed through distance into valuable lessons. This natural process of recollection and reflection transformed our physical packing into parallel emotional inventory—cataloging experiences and growth that would travel with us regardless of geographical location.

"We're going to miss this place tremendously," Anth acknowledged, voicing sentiment we all felt as we watched sunlight play across the flowing water. Tasmania had transformed from destination into relationship—not merely place visited but territory integrated into our evolving understanding of ourselves. The island's wild beauty, its uncompromising weather, its extraordinary wildlife, its magnificent isolation—all had reshaped our expectations of what constituted meaningful existence.

As evening settled around us for the penultimate time, the awareness of imminent departure carried surprising grace. We had arrived in Tasmania seeking new experience and discovered instead new definition of home—one untethered from conventional geography and redefined as particular alignment between internal values and external circumstance. This profound lesson would accompany us aboard the ferry and beyond, Tasmania's greatest gift having nothing to do with location and everything to do with revelation.Read more