Penguins
The price was a little better here then at Freycinet National Park.$12.00 for a campsite with a long drop pit at Tasman National Park.After a day of battling the winds I almost gave in before my sensibilities returned.One kilometre back up the road is a track into Forestry Tasmania land.I will go back and spend the night there.
After walking a couple short walks at Freycinet this morning I started the short drive towards Port Arthur.I’d been debating a visit to Maria Island – one of the best places to see the spotted pardalote.
This afternoon the winds started picking up.First it was just an annoying headwind.A little later it was a violent wind slamming the campervan from side to side.I had slowed to 60 km/h – slower on the uphills.It was still tough going.Seeing a sign for Spiky Bridge I decided to take a break.Getting out to look at the bridge, 100 years old, built by convicts of the Rocky Hills Probation Station I watched the van rock back and forth in the wind.Spiky Bridge is a rock bridge, but its name comes from the rocks placed on end along the two rails – spikes.
After a few minutes break I headed on to Triabunna – the least expensive fuel I’ve seen this trip $1.14 per litre – to look into a trip to Maria Island.Winds are blowing 95 km/h it would be a rough ride if we go.I talked with a skipper at the dock.“I just came in, winds 115 km/h out there.’I decided against a trip to Maria Island instead continued south towards Port Arthur.Down the road a little further – a camper had been blown across the highway stopping after wrapping around a large eucalyptus tree.I was glad I had slowed to a crawl through the violent winds.
Saturday morning I woke to honeyeaters chirping outside the window.Gum trees towered above me.I sat there taking it all in, reading some and watching trees sway.Before long it was noon.At least I’d eaten breakfast before morning changed to afternoon.I packed up and drove back to Fortescue Bay where I was going to walk to Cape Hauy – 4 hours return, but who knows how far. It took 6 hours – longer for another couple.
Arriving at Fortescue Bay I saw a sign – Day Use left; Boat Trailers and Campers right.Looking down at theday use area I saw several ‘campers’ parked there then wondered why they had not followed the sign and gone to park where the larger vehicles should be - tourists.
I proceeded to follow the sign to the parking area.As I was starting walking away a well used, yellow pickup drove by, then came back, “I’m the caretaker here, this area is only for boat trailers and campers.”Pointing, “The day use area is over there.”
“Didn’t the sign say boat trailers and campers here?”Pointing to the ambassador camper I asked, “Isn’t this a camper?”
The caretaker chuckled, “Yes, well ...no, right.”
I was confused and he was befuddled.We bantered back and forth for a while – both of us correct in what we were saying and probably both a little baffled by what the other was meaning.
Some day I might really understand the Aussie language but this time it pulled one over on me.At home a ‘camper’ is any vehicle you sleep in.It may also be a trailer towed to go camping in – also a camper – as is the monster Winnebago or converted bus.At night we go to a campground or RV park.
In Australia there is no such thing as a ‘camper.’They are all ‘caravans.’At night everybody goes to the Caravan park.
Reading boat trailers and campers proceed right I just did what any normal person would do – go park with the campers.
Wrong.
I eventually started my afternoon walk.The trail was overgrown by flowering shrubs.It followed the shore of Fortescue Bay then worked up into the forest.Before long there was a log across the trail, then several logs.I was crawling under logs and springing over other logs.Carefully balancing as I crossed the larger piles of logs fallen on the trail.A bushfire had burned through during the last year or two.Now the trees were falling, but it is also what stimulated the flower garden.The contrast between the blackened tree trunks and profusion of flowers was striking.
Before long the walk had become tedious.The scenery wasn’t real good but my guide to walks suggested this was an excellent walk.
I plodded on.
Moist areas were bridged by boardwalks or stepping stones, but the scenery stayed the same.The trail littered with ankle twisting rocks.
Cresting a steep climb I suddenly found myself facing the great southern ocean – really the Pacific.The mountain sloped down towards the shore.A few minutes later there were shear stone walls dropping hundreds of feet to the surging water below.
The mundane walk had become spectacular.
A sign, “Track End 50 Metres.”I walked on.A precipitous drop of 100 metres, maybe more straight down the ocean below.Cautiously I made way along the cliff.The surging ocean had cut a narrow chasm through the point creating an island.I dropped to my belly to peer straight down the water below.
Once finished discovering the end of the trail I returned to the high point to enjoy the panorama before me.Australian gannets flew below as did terns and gulls.Out further a continuous flock of shearwaters flew past for over an hour.An albatross rode the air currents and cormorants dove for fish or beat the air to move around.A whale swam beneath me along with her calf.
A pod of dolphins was nearby.
Afternoon quickly passed.
The trail back did not seem nearly as tedious.
Just after sunset I positioned myself on a rocky beach.Behind me was a penguin rookery.Tucked under logs, inside log hollows and in burrows were fairy penguins on their nests.At 8:14pm as light was fading there was a movement on the waters surface.It looked like the back of a whale moving through the bay.In the fading light I couldn’t really make out the form of the animal but it was coming closer and closer to shore.The little penguins behind me started calling excitedly.The mass came closer – directly to a smooth rock shelf.It was a flock of penguins coming in from a day at sea.They rode a wave onto the shore, landing on their bellies, then in mass walked up the slope and along trails to their burrows where they shared the days catch.Vivy, a four year old, was on the beach with me curled up on the chest of her dad.She wanted to follow the penguins to their nests.
“Daddy their beautiful.”
“Aren’t they cute.”
“Do you think I could have one for a pet?”
“I smell marshmallows.Do you think they like marshmallows?”
“I’m cold. Why aren’t the penguins cold?They were swimming.”
Another smaller flock had arrived on the beach just below us.They huddled on the shore as if debating how to negotiate the hill of rounded rocks.Sitting motionless, the penguins did not notice the three of us.They worked their way up the beach jumping from rock to rock – occasionally missing – crashing down into the crevices between the rocks then struggling back up.I took a couple pictures, but then noticed that after the flash the penguins wouldn’t move.My light had blinded them.They had to wait until their eyes readjusted to the darkness before moving on.I left the penguins in darkness not terrorizing them with photographs as they continued on home.
Around 9:00 I arrived back at my camper – this time spending the night in the camping ground.
