Spirit of Tasmania

Another early start and I’m on the Spirit of Tasmania. I arrived at 7 and sat in the car queue for long enough to listen to Albi and the Wolves twice through, so it’s pleasant to finally be on board and relaxing with a book. The motion of the boat has me sleepy though, so in between reading and writing, I snooze on the upright chair.

I’ve eaten through all my leftover lunch and prepared snacks, and am pleasantly surprised to find quite a few vegan options in the dining area. I’ve loaded my plate with vegetables, eggplant curry and hot chips; always my weakness and some of the little proof my sister and I have that we’re truly related. The service is just lovely and I sit at the window for hours, enjoying the lack of internet connection. Finally, I can focus on finishing my own book. Out comes the laptop, let the editing begin.

It’s hours of bliss, and months of backlogged work is being completed. I take breaks with the book I’m reading and the boat rocks along for hours while I’m completely uninterrupted. When the laptop battery runs too low, I step outside to watch the water outside, and the rain comes down. Before too long the announcement comes on the speakers and then I’m back in the car, following GPS directions to Karina’s house.

I’m greeted with wagging tails, a glass of local red wine and spaghetti with homemade passata, made with home-grown tomatoes. It’s so good to see Karina and the dogs again, and to have another

comfortable bed to sleep in before my drive to Magra.

Like Ned is to Glenrowan, penguins are to Penguin. Each shop and cafe of this small town is decorated with penguin artwork and scuptures, and the town’s recent facelift includes penguin poles sporting backpacks and clues for the kids, who can tick them off as they visit each penguin tourist attraction. Along the windy path on the beachfront stands a giant penguin statue, chest puffed out with pride at being the largest display of the town’s name. It's also blowing rain sideways, so our explorations are cut short in favour of warmth.

Karina has instructed me to turn right along the coast before heading South, and she’s absolutely right. Kilometres of beautiful coastline, a railway track running alongside beach, rocks and wildflowers. I stop a few times to take photos and the cold wind reminds me that I really do need to find a decent jacket down here. Four charity shops later and I’m no closer to any warm clothing - Tasmanian retail is still convinced it’s Summer, despite the chill outside.

GPS is also convinced that the correct route is the tourist one and I wind through tall mountains and old forest. Hairpin turns, a couple of random chickens scratching at the side of the road and suddenly the air stinks of charcoal. I’m driving through the remnants of bushfire, blackness where leaves only recently grew and the smell of smoke still thick in the air. I pass fields of leafless trees, trunks strangely white, and drive around the Great Lake. This is taking longer than expected, and Meg’s hysterical laughter when I explain where I am confirms that I have indeed taken the scenic route. I arrive at 4pm, hungry and cold.

A lovely meet with Ailis, the new mother and her very cute baby, and settle into the household of ten, myself included. The next two days involved many discussions and recollections of the birth, and although everyone is very forgiving of the fact that I missed it, I still feel bad - I’m a birth doula, after all!

Wednesday Chloe (who actually did make the birth) and I head out to MONA. Neither of us have been there before, and after a fight to get a parking spot, we’re immersed in a collection of visual illusions. Sculptures, videos and installations use light and sound to create multiple tricks on the eyes and it’s not until we arrive in one of the many cafes that I realise how hungry I am. There are so many eateries in MONA they’ve produced a brochure for visitors about them. Initially Chloe and I shirked them, wanting to see the art instead, but now my stomach is growling (of course) and the vegan-friendly chocolate cake - the only vegan item on the menu - is calling my name. Except that they’ve sold out.

The Wine Bar at the entrance comes to the rescue with a nice chocolatey slice and while Chloe rushes off to the airport, I drop into Hobart to buy Ailis a care package, and a jacket and grocery supplies for myself. There’s a second-hand outdoors store just down the road from all the fancy branded shops, and by the time I’ve found a kid’s sized jacket to fit me, the sun has appeared and the wind has died down. Typical Tasmania.