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Nomadic Narratives

January - June 2024
Our home is a bus, our map the whispers of wanderlust, Australia our playground. From shimmering shores to the boundless outback. This journey is a story fuelled by laughter, shared experiences, & the constant hum of adventure's song. Read more
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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    2
    Day 45–46

    Cape Whispers: Trails & Tales

    February 17 in Australia ⋅ 🌬 21 °C

    The first rays of dawn, like conspiratorial whispers, promised an adventure etched into the Tasmanian wilderness. Anticipation thrummed in our veins – not for a grand, multi-day epic, but for the intimate exploration of Rocky Cape, a rugged gem nestled beside the wild heart of Bass Strait.

    Our trusty compass, our guide to untold wonders, pointed toward a 10-kilometer loop whispered by AllTrails. With each step, the landscape unfurled like a living masterpiece – vibrant, vast, and undeniably alive. The North Western coastline, a symphony of natural splendor, beckoned us onwards.

    Shortly into our venture, an unforeseen challenge emerged. The air, buzzing with the hum of flies, seemed to target the only exposed parts – our faces. Anth, caught in a sudden coughing bout, marked an unexpected testament to the wilderness's unpredictability, prompting Sal to equip our single fly net, a barrier against the persistent swarm. This simple adaptation painted a vivid stroke of realism on our adventure's canvas.

    The allure of discovery overcame the need for speed. Cathedral Hill's vista could wait; Tinkers Lookout, promising glimpses of Stanley and the iconic Nut, beckoned with its siren song. Cathedral Rock, standing as a majestic guardian, underscored the area's timeless beauty.

    Soaring sea eagles, gliding masters of the air, contrasted with the tumultuous seas below. A rustle, a hiss, and a flash of brown – a sudden encounter with a tiger snake quickened nature's pulse, instilling a profound respect for this land. Adrenaline surging, Sal allowed Anth to take the lead, navigating deeper into nature's embrace.

    The return journey crescendoed at Cathedral Hill that we had bypassed earlier, offering a panoramic view that encapsulated our day's essence. We paused, absorbed the moment, and intertwined our spirits with the wilderness, woven into its vast tapestry.

    The day extended beyond the hike, with the lighthouse recounting tales of past sailors, and Stanley offering the simple joy of fish and chips, making our bus feel even more like home.

    As Sal surrendered to sleep's embrace, Anth, driven by an insatiable curiosity, sought out geocaches under the night sky, guided by an unerring inner compass and a love for the unknown.

    With the new day, we rose to challenge Stanley's famed Nut, a volcanic guardian of the town's edge. Forsaking the chairlift for the rigor of ascent rewarded us with a sense of achievement that resonated deeply.

    The summit offered a leisurely circuit, where breathtaking views unfolded around us. Despite the splendor, the memories of Rocky Cape's wild allure lingered, setting a lofty benchmark for beauty.

    With the descent marking a chapter's end, we heeded the road's call, journeying a mere 20 minutes to our next adventure, living the nomadic truth that every conclusion is simply the start of a new journey.    Read more

  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    1
    Day 46–48

    Geocaching Triumphs & Pancake Feasts

    February 18 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C

    The sun-drenched expanse of Tall Timbers in the Town of Smithton unfolded before us, another free haven for our nomadic souls. RVs dotted the landscape, each one a story waiting to be unraveled. But for Anth, a different adventure thrummed in his veins. Geocaching, the thrill of the hunt, beckoned him onwards. Leaving a slightly weary Sal nestled in the bus, he vanished with a promise that echoed like the wind, "Back soon!"

    Hours stretched into an eternity, the sun painting the sky in fiery hues. Just as Sal began to wonder if she'd been abandoned to pancake duty forever, a triumphant grin materialised in the doorway. 13 geocaching trophies adorned his pockets, six of them gleaming with the pride of being "first to find" - the first such discoveries in years! His legs, already weary from conquering The Nut, had devoured another 13 kilometers on this geocaching odyssey.

    Back at camp, our trusty 'EverShower' became a sanctuary, washing away the dust and fatigue. Then came the ultimate test: could Sal's legendary banana choc-chip pancakes and protein ice cream live up to their mythical status? Anth, ever the charmer, laid down the gauntlet. And oh, how she delivered! The ensuing feast was a dessert symphony fit for royalty, banishing any lingering doubts about her culinary prowess.

    Two days flew by in a whirlwind of work, chores, and whispered excitement. The West Coast of Tassie, a land of untamed beauty and untold adventures, called to us like a siren song. Soon, we would answer, leaving behind the comfort of Tall Timbers and venturing into the wild unknown. The next chapter awaited, its pages blank and brimming with possibility.    Read more

  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    2
    Day 48–49

    Hello Wild Wild West

    February 20 in Australia ⋅ 🌬 22 °C

    Bidding farewell to Smithton and the familiar embrace of Tall Timbers, we set our compass west towards Marrawah, a coastal gem nestled on Tasmania's rugged flank. Green Point Campground, the gateway to the Tarkine Drive's week-long adventure, was our target.

    A thirst for exploration led us down a dusty byway, past the ghost of Robbin's Island shimmering in the distance. Visions of cattle herded across the sand flats at low tide danced in our minds, a spectacle just out of reach. No matter, the unfurling ribbon of dirt road had its own charm, weaving us deeper into the heart of dairy country.

    The first vista of Tasmania's West Coast unfolded at Preminghana, a rugged canvas where intrepid surfers danced with the icy swells, chasing the exhilarating power of the ocean's fury. Before our journey reached its final port on this leg, this raw display of nature's might served as a potent introduction to the untamed spirit of the island's western shores.

    Green Point lived up to its name, a symphony of wild winds and breathtaking ocean vistas. Yet, the free campsite pulsed with the energy of fellow adventurers, leaving not a single space for our nomadic souls. But sometimes, indulgence whispers sweeter than frugality. The Marrawah Inn, with its siren song of salt and pepper calamari, loaded fries, and the mythical - a flushable toilet after days on the road - became our haven for the night.

    Contentment settled over us like a warm blanket, anticipation for the coming days simmering with each bite. Sleep came easy, dreams filled with Tarkine's untamed beauty waiting to be unveiled. This next adventure had just begun.    Read more

  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    2
    15
    Day 49–51

    Whispers from the Edge

    February 21 in Australia ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

    The coastal ribbon of the Tarkine Drive unfurled before us, a tapestry woven with drama and breathtaking beauty. Bluff Hill Point Lighthouse offered a familiar embrace, echoing the expanse we'd witnessed at Marrawah. A single-lane bridge, slender and stark, carried us over the dark waters of the Archer River, a prelude to the exhilarating spectacle that awaited.

    The Edge of the World, where the Arthur River met the ocean, lived up to its name. A mesmerising dance of colours unfolded, tannins swirling with the aqua hues of the Western Ocean, each crashing wave a testament to nature's power. The wind, an offshore maestro, conducted a symphony of whitecaps and spray.

    A plaque resonated with the vastness, etching Brian Inder's poem onto our souls:

    "I cast my pebble onto the shore of Eternity.
    To be washed by the Ocean of time.
    It has shape, form, and substance.
    It is me.
    One day I will be no more.
    But my pebble will remain here.
    On the shore of eternity.
    Mute witness from the aeons.
    That today I came and stood
    At the edge of the world.”

    Time seemed to melt away as we captured this unique and beautiful place in photographs and videos.

    Fate, disguised as a two-minute encounter at a gas station days ealier, led us to Chris's Shack, whose kindness offered us a haven on his front lawn for two nights – the ocean our front yard.

    Departure morning arrived, heralded by wind, rain, and an ocean flexing its might. Silvers and greys painted the scene, a spectacle of raw power that ignited our adventurous spirit. We donned our wet-weather armour, jackets zipped with anticipation, ready to delve deeper into the Tarkine Loop. The journey ahead promised new chapters in our Tasmanian odyssey, each one a thread woven into the unforgettable tapestry of our travels.    Read more

  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    32
    Day 51–52

    Across Tasmania: Hobart's Beckoning

    February 23 in Australia ⋅ 🌬 15 °C

    Wanderlust tugged at our hearts, whispering promises of distant shores and family reunions. A chance to bolster our travel kitty for a later visit to our eldest son in Japan presented itself, a detour to Hobart beckoning. Though it meant veering off the beaten path, our untethered souls craved adventure.

    Bidding farewell to Chris's cozy shack, we plunged southward along the Western Shore, the rugged coastline unfolding like a breathtaking storybook.

    Couta Rocks, nestled amongst a community of weathered shacks, stole Sal's breath away. The tempestuous sea, whipped by onshore winds and rain, crashed against the rocks in a mesmerising display of raw power. We lingered, capturing the untamed beauty on camera, the wild symphony of nature playing out before us.

    Freshwater serenity replaced the ocean's roar as we reached Lake Rebecca, a hidden gem behind the dunes. This indigenous site whispered tales of resilience, where communities thrived on the life-giving water and bounty of the land, seeking shelter in grass huts that braved the harsh winters.

    Camp Elsewhere, a name both playful and literal, marked our final coastal exploration. Enticed by the promise of solitude, we ventured into the campsite, a haven of tranquility amidst untouched nature. Though the allure was strong, our journey called us onward.

    Eastward we turned, the roaring forties wind now a fuel-efficient tailwind. Farmlands, our companions for weeks, gave way to the Tarkine Wilderness, a lush tapestry woven from the world's second-largest temperate rainforest. Each stop along this verdant path unveiled hidden wonders.

    At Kanunnah Bridge, spanning the tannin-stained Arthur River, we became unlikely heroes for lost tourists, guiding them to safety with dwindling fuel and no signal. Sumac Lookout offered a fleeting glimpse of the same river through a veil of clouds and rain, a testament to the ever-shifting moods of nature.

    The Julius River rainforest walk was a portal to a forgotten world. Moss-carpeted earth, ancient ferns, and gurgling brooks whispered secrets of time untold. Lake Chisholm, a flooded limestone sinkhole, reflected the sky's moods, while the Dempster Plains stretched out in a vast sea of button grass, whispering of windswept journeys. The Tarkine Sinkhole, a dark mirror reflecting the heavens, held us spellbound with its enigmatic beauty.

    Though our hearts yearned to delve deeper, Hobart beckoned. This was just a taste of Tasmania's magic, a promise of a future year spent exploring its every nook and cranny. We would return to this place.

    Back on familiar roads, we reached out to Terry, a kindred spirit we'd met weeks earlier. His invitation to join him at the Berry Patch, nestled between Ulverstone and Devonport, was a beacon of warmth. We arrived just before dinner, greeted by his open arms and the true spirit of nomadic camaraderie.

    The next morning the first train whistle sliced through the pre-dawn quiet, Sal awoke to Terry's gentle words, serenading his two cockatiels as they chirped their morning song. We began with shared coffee and laughter, the aroma of homemade pizzas and banana pancakes filling the air as a token of our gratitude. Terry, ever the generous soul, helped with errands for our bus.

    With heavy hearts, we said goodbye to Terry, our journey leading us halfway to Hobart, up into the embrace of the Tasmanian highlands. The road ahead held new adventures, but the warmth of friendship and the untamed beauty of Tasmania would forever be etched in our memories.    Read more

  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    32
    Day 52–53

    Fiery Skies over Penstock

    February 24 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 18 °C

    On the table, a weathered treasure map sprawled (okay, so it was Wikicamps on a tablet), leading us to our next destination: Hobart. Our fingers traced the route, landing on a hidden gem – Penstock Lagoon, the perfect halfway point. It was as if fate itself had marked the spot, a secret whispered on the map's "worn parchment".

    Bidding farewell to the salty symphony of the coast, we steered south. The landscape metamorphosed, swapping the sandy stage for rolling emerald hills. Deloraine, Tasmania's unassuming giant, greeted us with its quaint charm before we ascended into the heart of the Great Western Tiers.

    Snow markers, silent sentinels, stood guard along the road, igniting a spark of wanderlust in Sal's eyes. They whispered tales of winter wonderlands, painting a picture of our cozy bus nestled amidst snow-capped peaks, a refuge from the biting cold.

    With the Great Lake as our glistening companion, we pressed on, anticipation building with each passing mile. Smoke, a veiled reminder of the fiery trials unfolding nearby, hung heavy in the air. We anxiously checked the government website, hoping our haven for the night remained untouched. Thankfully, a reassuring green tick confirmed our safety.

    Emerging from the smoky embrace, Penstock Lagoon, a man-made haven for trout and keen fly fisherman, unfolded before us. We were the lone inhabitants, the only souls sharing this slice of serenity. Though our stay was brief, a one-night stopover, we knew we'd return, drawn by the lagoon's quiet magic.

    As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dramatic shadows, Anth's drone danced across the fiery sky, capturing the scene's ethereal beauty. Sal, meanwhile, wove her culinary magic, conjuring a feast that warmed our bellies and our spirits.

    Sleep came easily, the only disturbance a quick check on the website, a silent reassurance in the night.

    The following morning the smoke, an unexpected artist, took its turn, transforming the sunrise into a fiery masterpiece. We captured its fleeting brilliance in photographs, forever etching this moment into our memory.

    Sal's famous pancakes, light and fluffy, fueled us for the final leg. Hobart, the culmination of this quick detour, awaited. We packed up our haven on wheels, hearts brimming with the memories we had woven along the way, and set off with renewed excitement, ready to embrace the adventures that lay ahead.

    Other times we have visited here:

    https://findpenguins.com/salandanth/footprint/6…    Read more

  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    2
    Day 53–55

    Forcett, Farms & Farewell

    February 25 in Australia ⋅ ☁️ 22 °C

    Bidding farewell to the tranquil idyll of Penstock Lagoon, we steered the bus towards Hobart. As the afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, ethereal shadows, we arrived at a charming farmstead nestled in Forcett, a mere stone's throw from the city and conveniently situated a 20-minute drive from Anth's flight the following day.

    Michael, the proprietor, greeted us with a warm handshake and a smile that exuded genuine Kiwi warmth. A seasoned dairy farmer who had retired from the trade, he had become an integral part of the Tasmanian tapestry for over two decades. Tess, his magnificent canine companion, with her impeccable training, padded over to offer her own furry welcome. A virtuoso of the canine art of "speak," she regaled us with her enthusiastic pronouncements.

    Sal, accustomed to the passenger's seat, surprised even herself by bravely taking the wheel to transport Anth to the airport. His 30-hour mainland sojourn presented her with an unexpected opportunity for solitude – the first since departing Queensland. Embracing this unforeseen "me time," she embarked on a television marathon, indulging in the guilty pleasure of staying up far past her usual bedtime. The following morning, she succumbed to the allure of a rare sleep-in, stretching her slumber into the late hours.

    The day unfolded with leisurely strolls through the expansive paddocks, reconnecting with loved ones through heartfelt phone conversations, culminating in another short drive to retrieve Anth. In a fortnight, Sal would embark on another solo expedition. What adventures awaited her on this upcoming escapade?    Read more

  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    2
    Day 55–63

    Return to Penstock: A Serene Sojourn

    February 27 in Australia ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    With a wealth of time at our disposal before returning Anth to Launceston Airport, we embarked on a strategic sojourn to revisit the captivating Penstock Lagoon, a place we'd vowed to return to and explore more comprehensively. This time, we savored the journey, lingering at intriguing stops along the way.

    The Steppes unveiled a heartfelt artistic tribute - a rock display lovingly crafted by a local, its weathered surface etched with symbols that spoke of the land's unique character. A little further on, we journeyed through time, exploring the weathered edifices of the Steppes homestead. The silence of these abandoned dwellings whispered tales of resilience and hardship, a poignant reminder of the harsh realities of bygone eras.

    Arriving again at Penstock, we were determined to find the perfect sanctuary, and we meticulously explored every campsite, finally settling upon a secluded cove nestled beside the lagoon. Here, the days unfolded in a tapestry of serenity. Graceful black swans, their ebony forms gliding across the water's surface in an ethereal ballet, became our daily companions. Their long necks dipped and swayed as they meticulously foraged for sustenance, their presence a constant source of tranquility.

    Just as we were settling into our idyllic refuge, a minor crisis arose. Anth discovered a malfunctioning grey water readout on our Victron display. A quick inspection beneath the Bus revealed the culprit - a missing sensor. A memory clicked into place. We'd bumped a rock on our departure a few days prior. Hopeful, Anth embarked on a determined 50-minute trek back to our previous campsite. He returned triumphantly, sensor in hand, a testament to his resourcefulness and unwavering optimism.

    Days seamlessly intertwined as we tackled essential bus maintenance, ensuring the continued smooth operation of our mobile home. In between these tasks, we reveled in the tranquility of this hidden gem, our senses attuned to the subtle music of the wilderness. We observed the transient nature of our fellow campers, some stopping for a quick pitstop, others lingering for a day or two, before continuing their journeys on the ever-winding Tasmanian highway.

    However, our idyllic spot turned out to be less than optimal for solar power. With limited battery reserves, dwindling sunlight filtering through the dense canopy of trees, and an ever-present cloud cover, we embraced a more rustic lifestyle, a welcome change of pace from our modern routines. We traded the convenience of our induction cooktop and air fryer for the charm of camp stove cooking, the rhythmic sizzle of food melding with the crackling symphony of the campfire. Cozy evenings were spent huddled around the flickering flames, sharing stories and laughter beneath a canopy of stars, the Milky Way splashed across the inky expanse of the night sky.

    Fueled by this newfound reliance on the campfire, we embarked on a firewood expedition, one that serendipitously led us to an even more secluded campsite, bathed in sunshine - a haven perfectly suited for our solar needs. Our ever-adaptable bus, a testament to our preparedness, made a swift move, just in time for a severe weather warning that threatened the area with ferocious winds. Secure within the confines of our new sanctuary, surrounded by towering trees that offered a natural windbreak, we watched as the tempest raged outside, the temperature plummeting. Bundled in warm layers, we weathered the 'storm', a stark reminder of Tasmania's capricious nature, its beauty as undeniable as its power.

    After eight idyllic nights and nine unforgettable days, it was time to bid farewell (for now) to Penstock Lagoon. Our water supplies dwindled, and our food stores waned, but our hearts brimmed with contentment. We departed with a silent promise to return soon, forever etched in our memories the serenity of this hidden paradise, the resilience of the natural world, and the spirit of adventure that propelled us forward.

    On our way out, we paid homage to the Waddamana Power Station, a historical monument that stands as a testament to Tasmania's pioneering spirit. We marvelled at the colossal Pelton wheel turbines, silent sentinels of a bygone era, their once-gleaming surfaces now imbued with the patina of time. These titans of industry, once the lifeblood of Tasmanian energy production, now stood as a reminder of human ingenuity and the ever-evolving quest for progress. As we continued our journey, their imposing forms slowly faded into the distance, beckoning us towards the promise of our next adventure.

    Other times we have visited here:

    https://findpenguins.com/9uaypcigxlrku/footprin…    Read more

  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    4
    4
    Day 63–65

    A New Dawn at Liffey Falls

    March 6 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C

    Invigorated by our adventures at Penstock Lagoon, we charted a course towards Liffey Falls, a mere hour's drive away. Descending from the Central Plateau's rugged embrace, we found ourselves amidst sprawling farmlands - a stark contrast to the verdant wilderness we'd cherished for the past week.

    A quick pitstop in the quaint town of Bracknell replenished our water reserves before we continued towards Liffey and its eponymous falls campground. Arriving later than intended (a habit we were determined to break!), we secured a spot that, while less than ideal, would suffice for the night. The absence of Penstock Lagoon's serenity was palpable.

    The following morning, as fellow campers embarked on their own Tasmanian itineraries, we seized the opportunity to explore. A hidden gem materialized beside the gurgling Liffey River, offering respite from the afternoon sun, enhanced privacy, and a superior vantage point for both solar panels and our Starlink connection.

    Refueled with a hearty breakfast and brimming water tanks, we shouldered our daypacks for the two-hour trek to Liffey Falls itself. The rainforest trail, a verdant tapestry dappled with sunlight, snaked alongside the river, culminating in a breathtaking spectacle. The cascading water roared with life, drawing a small congregation of visitors who, like us, paused to appreciate its majesty. A brief exploration of smaller, hidden falls further upstream satiated our adventurous spirit before we retraced our steps back to the bus.

    Our two-night sojourn's final day beckoned with another enticing trail. This shorter route wove through the forest, unveiling the commendable work of Bush Heritage Australia in protecting this precious land. As we delved deeper, the interpretive signage painted a vivid picture of the region's unique ecosystem, leaving us with a profound appreciation for Tasmania's natural wonders.    Read more

  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    2
    Day 65–66

    From Falls to Fields: A Quiet Night

    March 8 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C

    Bidding farewell to the cascading beauty of Liffey Falls, we charted a direct course towards Hagley Post Office, where a selection of parcels awaited our arrival. After a swift pickup, we ventured a mere five minutes further to a paddock in the heart of Westbury. While this unconventional stopover lacked the grandeur of wilderness, it served its purpose admirably - a free haven for the night.

    Fuelled by the invigorating Tasmanian air, Anth embarked on a four-kilometer trek to conquer a selection of geocaches scattered throughout the town. His spoils included not only a sense of accomplishment but also a quintessential Tasmanian treat - a crisp apple, savoured on the very "Apple Isle" itself.

    As tranquility settled over the campsite, a hush fell upon us. The proximity to Launceston, our next destination, and the much-awaited screening of Dune Part Two thrummed with anticipation. To heighten the excitement even further, we decided to revisit Dune Part One under the star-studded Tasmanian sky. Needless to say, the prospect of the sequel looming on the horizon fuelled our cinematic enthusiasm.    Read more

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