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Nomadic Narratives

Januari - Mei 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. Baca lagi
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  • 55footprint
  • 1negara
  • 137hari
  • 304gambar
  • 41video
  • 7.3kkilometer
  • 6.7kkilometer
  • 236batu nautika
  • 51batu nautika
  • 0kilometer
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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    1
    Hari 102–103

    Echoes of the Wild: Serpents and Secrets

    14 April, Australia ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

    We bid our new friends farewell beneath the towering canopy of Mersey Forest and ventured onward, steering our path towards the enigmatic Honeycomb Caves. Descending from the lofty crags of the Western Tiers into the verdant farmlands of Tasmania, we retraced a road familiar to us—a path that two years prior had woven its way into our hearts and solidified this enchanting island as the inaugural destination of our nomadic odyssey. Nestled beside these fertile fields, the caves whispered secrets of ancient times, with the stoic Tiers standing sentinel in the distance. Here, beside the soft rustle of the farmland, we pitched our camp, with Grammy and Fran anchoring beside us in harmonious symphony.

    Anth, with an explorer’s spirit, soon spotted a geocache hidden within the national park's embrace. Intent on discovery, he ventured down the bush-laden path, eyes scanning the dense undergrowth for signs of the hidden trove. Yet, nature held its own surprises; not a meter from the path, a formidable tiger snake lay in wait. A few cautious stomps persuaded it to shift, yet it remained a guardian of the path, barring the way to our coveted geocache. "We'll leave this for another day," Anth proclaimed, wisdom prevailing over valor, and we retreated to the sanctuary of our camp.

    As the sun lingered in the sky, casting long shadows over the land, we were drawn to the cave's gaping mouth, just a stone's throw from our campsite. Inside, a serendipitous reunion unfolded as we stumbled upon Arli, Luke, and Tali—the same trio from the previous campsite— about to enjoy the cave’s cool respite. Tasmania’s quaint charm revealed itself once more in these unexpected encounters, knitting the fabric of our shared narratives. Together, we delved into the cavern’s depths, our voices echoing off its ancient walls, before emerging into the fading light of day. Parting ways with warm farewells, we returned to our camp, spirits uplifted by the threads of connection that seemed to stitch this small island so tightly together.

    That evening, the gentle crackle of the campfire drew us into a circle of newfound friends—the couple from the neighboring motorhome. Over shared nibbles and the glow of the flames, we exchanged stories of roving and discovery, each tale adding warmth to the cool Tasmanian night.

    This night marked the closing chapter of our wild Tasmanian journey with Grammy and Fran, for the dawn would usher us back to Launceston and their impending departure. Yet, in a twist of fate, as one door closed, another opened; Anth’s planned mainland venture weeks earlier had dissipated, but in its stead, a new journey beckoned—he was to depart on the morrow, perfectly synced with our farewells.

    The following morn, with a blend of caution and determination, Anth reclaimed the path to the geocache, now freed from its slithering sentinel. His successful retrieval was a quiet triumph, a fitting end to our adventures. With hearts laden with memories and spirits soaring with anticipation, we rolled towards Launceston, the wheels of our bus turning towards new horizons yet unseen.    Baca lagi

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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    Hari 101–102

    Connections on the Western Tiers

    13 April, Australia ⋅ ☁️ 14 °C

    Departing the tranquil shores of Lake Barrington, our journey propelled us onward in our faithful bus, steering towards the imposing and rugged silhouette of the Western Tiers. Hearts swelling with a blend of nostalgia and anticipation, we set our sights on Mersey Forest, a place of enchanting promise though not entirely engulfed in the Tiers. Guided by glowing recommendations from our revered travel guide, Wikicamps, we were drawn like moths to a flame, eager to uncover its hidden treasures.

    As we descended, the Forth River unfurled below us, its crystalline waters a vital artery feeding Lake Barrington, and our bus’s exhaust brake sang a low, protective hymn, conserving our mechanical stamina for the journey ahead. With every descent comes an ascent, and so we ascended, slowly winding our way up to the very edge of the Western Tiers. As we neared our destination, a flood of memories from two years prior washed over us—the adventurous few days we walked the Walls of Jerusalem. It was during that seminal journey we had vowed to make Tasmania the first port of call in our new nomadic life.

    Upon crossing the sturdy bridge over the Mersey River, our first attempt to navigate into the campsite was thwarted by a precariously sharp turn, compelling us to opt for a secondary entrance. This fortunate misdirection delivered us to an unexpectedly vacant campsite, quietly acclaimed as the local's preferred retreat.

    Our bus, spacious yet surprisingly agile, slipped effortlessly into a spot, its size an advantage in the densely wooded area, where larger vehicles dared not venture. Settling in beside us were Grammy and Fran in their reliable Hiace, our temporary travel companions, their presence a comforting constant beside the gently babbling river. Anth took to the land, gathering and processing firewood with a practiced ease, each log a building block for what would become an evening of serene campfire entertainment. His quest for wood briefly paused as he ventured back to the Mersey bridge to uncover a geocache, his success marked by a series of celebratory photographs.

    As Anth made his way back across the bridge, a small car buzzed past, its movements quick and curious, disappearing momentarily into the park entrance we had earlier bypassed. This fleeting encounter didn't end there; the car reappeared, nestling cheekily behind our camp—a bold move given the numerous campers who had passed by, deterred by our claim to this prime spot.

    The car disgorged its occupants—three intrepid souls ready to share in our encampment. Arli and Luke, a couple seasoned in the nomadic lifestyle, balancing their wanderlust with periods of work in outdoor education, were joined by their friend Tali, a spirited traveler about to embark on his own epic adventure to New Zealand.

    Together, under the canopy of stars and the whisper of the river, we encircled the crackling fire. Stories flowed freely, laughter echoed into the night, and bonds were forged in the shared warmth of the fire’s glow. The road had once again proven itself a remarkable weaver of destinies, drawing us together in this secluded Tasmanian sanctuary, reminding us that every journey, no matter how rugged or serene, is a symphony of stories waiting to be told.    Baca lagi

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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    Hari 100–101

    Laundry, Lakes, and Late Nights

    12 April, Australia ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C

    At the break of day, under the soft glow of a languid morning, our journey momentarily paused to embrace the mundane yet grounding task of laundry. As our clothes danced lightly from the bus to the trees, they seemed to cast a spell over the campground, inspiring fellow travelers to adorn their spaces with hanging fabrics that fluttered in the gentle breeze.

    Once our gear was sun-kissed and dry, we embarked anew, post-lunch, with our compass set towards the majestic Leven Canyon. This was a place of awe that we had visited once before, but now it was Grammy and Fran's turn to stand on the precipice and gaze out over the vast, rugged beauty. Under Anth's expert guidance, Grammy mastered the art of the hiking poles and ascended with a youthful zeal, her face alight with pride as she reached the summit. The vista from the lookout rewarded her tenacity—a sweeping panorama of nature’s eternal grandeur.

    Our descent from the heights marked a transition into unexplored territories as we journeyed towards the tranquil shores of Lake Barrington. Here, the fabric of our adventure was enriched by the threads of new acquaintances. Garry, the seasoned handyman from Queensland, who had woven himself into the fabric of Tasmanian camping life, proved indispensable. His skilled hands brought our solar panels to life, ensuring our journey could continue bathed in efficiency and light.

    As dusk wrapped its velvet cloak around the campsite, Nina and Remo from Switzerland joined us by the crackling campfire. Their tales of traversing Australia's vast landscapes added layers of depth to our own narrative. The fire’s warm glow against the cool night air, the shared stories of distant roads traveled, and the laughter that echoed into the night created a tapestry of human connection that felt as timeless as the stars above.

    Later, under the star-studded sky, Anth, Nina, and Remo ventured to the lake’s edge in search of the elusive Aurora Australis. While the southern lights remained a mystery, the heavens above unveiled their own spectacle—the Milky Way sprawled across the night sky in a display of celestial wonder, punctuated by the occasional streak of a shooting star.

    With the arrival of another dawn, we bade farewell to our fellow wanderers, each goodbye tinged with the warmth of newfound friendships and the promise of future crossings. As we set off towards our next destination, the impending departure of Grammy cast a bittersweet shadow over our hearts, reminding us of the impermanence and preciousness of our shared moments in the wild heart of Tasmania.    Baca lagi

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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    Hari 99–100

    Coastal Views & Serendipitous Encounters

    11 April, Australia ⋅ ☁️ 16 °C

    We bid a poignant farewell to Smithton and the untamed beauty of Tasmania’s northwest, steering our compass eastward while stopping briefly to refuel, a small yet necessary interlude in our journey.

    Just beyond the historical echoes of Stanley, we ventured into the wilds of Rocky Cape. During our last visit, we had trekked along a trail offering breathtaking coastal panoramas. This time, before embarking on any strenuous paths, we found a perfect spot that offered Grammy and Fran a sweeping glimpse of the rugged coastline, a majestic preview of the untamed beauty that lay ahead.

    Our eastward journey soon brought us to the charming coastal enclave of Penguin. In pursuit of the simple pleasure of fish and chips, our search led us to a quaint eatery nestled on the sands of the beach. There, to our amazement, we were reunited with Natalie, the gracious soul we’d met by the serene waters of Lake Kara months ago. Over the sound of lapping waves, she recounted spotting our bus meandering through Queenstown days before. It was a small reminder of how intertwined lives could be in the close-knit tapestry of Tasmania.

    With hearts full from our seaside reunion, we bid the coastal vistas farewell as Grammy’s longing for the mountains beckoned us southward. We directed our convoy towards Bannons Park, revisiting another cherished site from the early days of our expedition.

    As twilight descended, we lit a fire that danced against the evening chill, casting a warm glow over our circle. There, beside the crackling flames, we savored the final moments of our journey with Grammy. While the prospect of a slower pace awaited us, the time spent with Grammy hung suspended in the air—timeless and unforgettable, an enduring echo of our Tasmanian odyssey.    Baca lagi

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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    222
    Hari 97–99

    Family, Peaks, & Tasmanian Mystique

    9 April, Australia ⋅ ☁️ 14 °C

    Departing from the cozy confines of the Yolla Tavern, our spirits were high, nourished by the previous night's feast of sumptuous pizza. With nostalgia guiding us, we retraced the familiar paths first trodden upon our initial arrival in Tasmania. This journey, however, was graced with the delightful company of Grammy and Fran, their van meandering along with us through the scenic tapestry of the landscape.

    Our adventure began anew at Stanley, beneath the towering shadow of the Nut—an ancient volcanic relic that rises majestically from the earth. While Grammy chose the serene ascent via chairlift, we embarked once again on the challenging Zig Zag Track, our ascent marked by the rhythm of our steady breaths. At the summit, time seemed to stand still as we reunited, basking in the shared triumph over the rugged climb.

    Circling the plateau, the four of us were enveloped by the sheer magnitude of the vista, an endless expanse that stretched to the horizon. The same views that had captivated our hearts months before now unfolded before Grammy and Fran, sparking in their eyes a reflection of our initial wonder. Our descent led us on a brief detour past Highfield Estate, its stately presence whispering tales of its past role in the nascent days of Tasmanian governance.

    Our path then steered us towards Tall Timbers RV stop in Smithton, a site that echoed with the memories of our past visit. The quiet of the off-season enveloped us, the campsite's vast emptiness punctuated only by the presence of another solitary traveler. Under the vast Tasmanian sky, we settled in, the anticipation of the morrow's explorations lulling us into a peaceful rest.

    With the dawn came a shroud of clouds, setting a dramatic stage as we ventured forth to reveal to Grammy the mystic allure of the Arthur River and the Edge of the World lookout. A stop at Marrawah Inn infused warmth into our bodies, fortifying us against the day's stark contrasts of gusting winds and pelting rain—elements that seemed fittingly apocalyptic at the world's edge.

    Our exploration continued to Couta Rocks, though we bypassed the demanding Tarkine loop, mindful of Grammy's limitations. Yet, fortune smiled upon us at Trowutta Arch, an enigmatic geological marvel born from the union of two ancient sinkholes. Here, Grammy and Fran could partake in the walk, and together, we stood in awe at the archway, its formidable beauty a poignant reminder of nature’s enduring artistry.

    As twilight descended, we returned to the solitude of Smithton's campsite. Our hearts were full, having woven Grammy into the vibrant fabric of our Tasmanian saga, each shared experience enriching the collective tapestry of our journey, forever immortalised in the echoes of this wild, enchanting island.    Baca lagi

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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    Hari 96–97

    Circle Closed: Yolla's Culinary Welcome

    8 April, Australia ⋅ ☁️ 13 °C

    As we bid a solemn farewell to the serene pine forests and the quaint allure of Strahan, our journey took us northward, hugging the rugged contours of Tasmania's West Coast. On our left, the infinite expanse of the ocean sprawled, whispering ancient secrets and sagas of bygone voyages. To our right, the formidable mountains of Tasmania's heartland rose majestically, their peaks shrouded in the mists of time, guardians of the wild, untouched by the passage of ages.

    Not long into our northbound odyssey, we were drawn to the thrill of a hidden treasure—a geocache, nestled within the vastness of Tasmania's most expansive sand dunes. Little did Anth anticipate the challenge that awaited. With each determined step up the towering dune, a battle against his own limits unfolded, a testament to the spirit of adventure that propelled us forward. Victorious, albeit with cheeks aflame from the exertion, he returned to our trusty bus, a conqueror returning from his quest.

    Our journey continued, weaving through the historic vestiges of Zeehan and Rosebury, towns etched with the legacy of miners' dreams. The heavens opened above us, cloaking the landscape in a veil of rain, transforming the mountains into ethereal beings, veiled in mist, a scene plucked from the realm of myths. Ascending from the coastal embrace, we ventured into the mystery, the landscape around us a canvas of nature's unparalleled artistry.

    Drawn back towards the familiarity of Tasmania's northern shores, we made a fleeting visit to the rain-drenched streets of Waratah. Yet, with the skies unyielding, our hearts and wheels turned towards a destination marked not just on maps, but in our memories—a culinary haven known to us from tales past. Our quest led us through Hellyer Gorge once again and to the doors of the Yolla Tavern. Just as the twilight heralded our arrival, in perfect synchrony with our craving for a feast legendary across the land—pizza, but not merely any pizza. This was a dish woven with the flavors of Tasmania itself, a culinary masterpiece.

    Here, beside the tavern, under the canopy of night, we made our camp. This return to a region that had greeted us upon our first foray into Tasmania felt like a circle closing, a return to the familiar, yet imbued with the richness of all we had encountered. In the glow of the tavern's lights, amidst the laughter and tales shared over slices of pizza, there was a profound sense of coming full circle—back to a place that, though not our beginning, felt remarkably like coming home, steeped in the epic saga of our Tasmanian adventure.

    Other times we have stayed here ->
    https://findpenguins.com/salandanth/footprint/6…    Baca lagi

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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    1211
    Hari 93–96

    Gordon River's Whisper: A Soulful Voyage

    5 April, Australia ⋅ ☀️ 16 °C

    Awaking to the landscape embraced by the mornings fog, we bid farewell to our tranquil haven beside the Derwent River and embarked on a westward journey through the heart of Tasmania's wilderness, a realm where the mountains stand as ancient guardians of untold stories and mysteries. This land, wild and unbridled, spread its splendour before us, with every curve and crevice whispering tales of the primordial dance between earth and sky. Our passage through this breathtaking landscape became a pilgrimage of sorts, each spot marked on our map a beacon for future expeditions into the heart of nature's embrace. This voyage, shared with Grammy, transformed into a quest of discovery, a prelude to deeper explorations into the enigmatic wilds that beckoned with the promise of waterfalls and hidden trails, waiting to unveil their secrets to those bold enough to seek them.

    As we ventured further west, the mythic silhouette of Frenchman's Cap loomed on the horizon, a monolith calling to the souls of adventurers, its legendary trails a testament to the spirit of exploration that thrums in the heart of every wanderer. Our path then wound us over the Bradshaw Bridge, skirting the serene shores of Lake Burbury, before descending into the storied realm of Queenstown. This old mining town, steeped in history, offered a momentary respite, a brief interlude in our epic saga. Here, amidst the echoes of the past, we indulged in the simple pleasures of coffee and companionship, before the call of the wild urged us onward to Strahan, our anticipation for the adventures ahead growing with each mile.

    From the rugged heartlands to the untamed west coast of Tasmania, our journey led us to a campsite enfolded by an ancient pine forest, a sanctuary where the sun's rays wove golden tapestries through the whispering boughs. In this secluded glade, we established our temporary abode, our spirits alight with tales of the imminent cruise arranged by Grammy—a venture into the unknown that lulled us into dreams of tomorrow's promise.

    The ensuing day saw the ladies venturing back to Strahan, embarking on a quest of their own, while Anth remained, tending to the sacred rites of maintenance and preparation, ensuring our chariot and abode remained steadfast companions in our journey. The evening brought us together again, beneath the canopy of stars, our gathering graced by the curious gaze of nocturnal visitors, their presence a reminder of the wild's ever-watchful eye. As the night embraced us, we retreated into our metallic sanctuaries, hearts buoyed by the anticipation of the morrow's adventure.

    With dawn's light as our herald, we set forth towards the awaiting cruise, a departure from our accustomed solitude into a shared journey with fellow seekers. This voyage, a gift from Grammy, ushered us through the gates of Macquarie Harbour and beyond Hell's Gate, where the ocean's might greeted us with open arms. Our circuit of Sarah Island became a pilgrimage through time, each tale from our guide a thread in the tapestry of this land's rich history, captured in our memories and through the lens of our cameras.

    Yet, it was our passage up the Gordon River that called to our souls with a siren's song, its ancient forests a living testament to the earth's primordial essence. There, amidst the silent congregation of awestruck travellers, we bore witness to the sacred dance of light and shadow, a moment outside of time, where the soul of the world revealed itself in all its majestic glory.

    Our exploration of Heritage Landing, a foray into the heart of this untouched wilderness, became a journey of enlightenment, guided by the wisdom of the ages as shared by our knowledgeable companion. This expedition, a communion with the ancient spirits of the land, left us humbled and enriched, carrying with us the indelible mark of its memory as we returned to the embrace of Strahan.

    The final chapter of the day unfolded under the aegis of Grammy's generosity, with "The Ship That Never Was" offering a dramatic denouement to our shared narrative. As night fell and we journeyed back to our forested retreat, the realisation dawned that our adventure had woven itself into the fabric of our beings, a saga of discovery, connection, and the unbreakable bonds forged in the crucible of shared experience. In the silence of the night, under the watchful gaze of the constellations, we surrendered to sleep, our hearts full, our spirits forever altered by the epic journey that had unfolded—a tale not just of places and moments, but of the transformation that comes with stepping into the unknown, together.    Baca lagi

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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    3
    22
    Hari 92–93

    Huon Heartbeats: The Wall's Embrace

    4 April, Australia ⋅ ☁️ 10 °C

    As we ventured westward, ascending into the heart of Tasmania's wild embrace, our spirits soared, buoyed by the rugged, breathtaking beauty of the landscape that unfolded before us. Along the way, we paused at a modest marker by the roadside, only to discover it signified the exact geographical center of Tasmania—a serene and symbolic heart of this ancient, untamed land.

    As we neared our resting place for the night, Derwent Bridge, a sign for "The Wall" captured our gaze, its message a beacon of intrigue and artistry. Grammy's voice crackled through the UHF, her excitement mirroring ours, urging us toward this unexpected detour despite Anth's unfamiliarity with the allure that awaited us.

    Upon arrival, a sense of wonder enveloped us. Nestled within a vast metal shed, hidden among the wild bush, was an exhibition that defied expectations. Before us stood a magnificent wall of Huon pine, its intricate carvings a testament to the land's rugged history and the tenacity of its people. We were captivated, lost in the narratives etched into the wood, each detail a brushstroke in the larger tale of survival and endurance.

    Our journey through time was sweetened by a hearty indulgence in scones, laden with jam and cream, savoured beside the comforting embrace of a fireplace. This respite from the wilds fortified us for the journey ahead, and soon we found ourselves at the edge of the Derwent River, our campsite for the night offering a view both serene and surreal.

    The campsite, cloaked in an otherworldly allure, welcomed us with open arms. We staked our claim near the water's edge, the expanse of a dried lakebed stretching out before us, its surface dotted with the haunting remnants of trees long passed. As the chill of evening descended, we ventured into the twilight in search of wombats, their elusive forms dancing just beyond our reach.

    Gathering once more around the warmth of a rare fire, we succumbed to the ancient storytelling of the flickering flames, a ritual as old as time itself. The encroaching night wrapped us in a blanket of stars, and as the cold crept in, promising a frost touched dawn at a mere 1°C, we retreated to the sanctuary of our abodes. Wrapped in the cocoon of our collective memories, we surrendered to the night, embraced by the deepest cold we'd yet faced in Tasmania, and drifted into dreams woven from the fabric of our day's adventures.    Baca lagi

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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    Hari 91–92

    Road Grime to Lakeside Prime

    3 April, Australia ⋅ ☁️ 11 °C

    Bidding farewell to the Dunalley Inn and our revised westward plans, we hit the road. Soon, familiar sights unfolded – the farm in Forcett, a place etched in our memories from Sal's (and later joined by Anth) solo adventures. A quick stop in Sorrel for essential supplies (mostly chocolate, of course!) followed the same route we took weeks ago, returning to Penstock Lagoon. But this time, the lure of the unexplored beckoned, and we veered off westward.

    Hamilton marked our next stop – a top-up for our water reserves, and a tempting $1 hot shower that Anth couldn't resist, washing away the road grime. Finally, we reached our destination for the night – a campsite overlooking the serene expanse of Meadowbank Lake. Upon arrival, tranquility reigned, but as the day wore on, fellow travellers began to trickle in.

    Maps unfurled, we strategised our route to reach Strahan, the location of Grammy's other cruise surprise. A thrill of anticipation coursed through us, tempered by a nip in the air – a taste of Tasmania's infamous chill settling in. Time to bundle up and cozy in for the night.    Baca lagi

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  • Sal and AnthNomadic Narratives
    Hari 90–91

    Rainy Days and Tessellated Ways

    2 April, Australia ⋅ 🌧 16 °C

    Languid sunshine streamed through the window, coaxing Anth out of bed for a slower start to the day. Sal's legendary pancakes, a treat for the whole crew, fueled our leisurely morning, punctuated only by the essential cup (or two) of coffee.

    Southward we rumbled, with the promise of Cockle Creek dangling on the horizon for our arrival in a couple of days. Dunalley, nestled amidst the Tasmanian forests we adore exploring via dirt detours, beckoned as the perfect stopover for the night.

    The drive was a breeze, and soon we found ourselves pulling into our campsite for the night – a pair of sprawling paddocks bordering the Dunalley Inn. With the Easter crowds a distant memory, we had ample space to explore. Local gems called to us, and first on the agenda was the Tessellated Pavement. Millions of years in the making, this incredible rock formation unfolded before us, its geometric patterns a mesmerising pavement for the ocean's ceaseless dance. Squares of "pans and loaves," as they're called, crafted a captivating floor at the cliff's edge.

    History whispered its secrets next. The Officers Quarters Museum and the Dog Line at Eaglehawk Neck offered a fascinating glimpse into the past. This narrow 30-meter strip of land played a pivotal role during Port Arthur's penitentiary days. Back then, ferocious dogs guarded this escape route, a fact emphasised by the rather intimidating statue of a guard dog.

    Despite our best efforts with umbrellas and raincoats, the day turned into a wet one. But a little rain wouldn't dampen our adventurous spirits! This ancient land, steeped in history, was captivating nonetheless.

    Seeking refuge, we retreated to the cozy confines of the Dunalley pub. Hot drinks in hand, we dried off and warmed up, plotting our next move. Cockle Creek, with the rain and extended drive, would have to wait for another day. Instead, we opted for a westward shift, setting our sights on Strahan, a jewel on Tasmania's wild west coast.    Baca lagi

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