Stanley

As this was Ken’s first trip, I gave him the thrill of planning our seven week Tassie sojourn. Unfortunately our first night free camp was full by the time we arrived and we were forced to backtrack to Devonport. It was a foreign land, the day fast running out, as were our options. But in emergencies, break the ‘Bunnings Carpark’ glass and hope no-one notices. As far as Ken was concerned, we might as well have parked across the driveway of the local Hells Angels Clubhouse.

But that was the least of his worries. He was almost out of water and sometime during the night he lost his caravan power, probably because of the ‘light show’ he’d put on the night before – not the most auspicious start on your shakedown trip. We decided to head to Stanley anyway and call in to Coastal Caravans along the way. He got the all clear and booked himself into a caravan park to re-charge and top up.

Now, because the planning was not mine, everything is a surprise. The first was how quickly it became rural. Barely five minutes from the dock and you are in rolling hills and potato fields. The Bass Highway hugs the coastline, the ocean becoming a regular companion out the window. Eventually, in the distance, I could see what looked like a mountain jutting out of the ocean. My second surprise. THAT was where we would find Stanley.

Cowering in the shadows of this incredible monolith, Stanley is a picture of 19^th century colonial Australia. Fine sandstone houses, timber fishermen’s cottages, and everything in between- best viewed from atop The Nut. Yep, this giant volcanic plug has a name AND is a tourist attraction in it’s own right. The walk up was short but very steep and the chairlift provided an attractive alternative for the non-athletes. Once at the top, there was a two kilometre circuit around the cliff tops to explore. The views were outstanding, even on a cloudy day.

The Nut is also home to the Mutton Birds and this rocky plateau is riddled with nests. Breeding season must be a cacophony, but it was now heading into Autumn and only the wind whistling through the tussocks could be heard.

While Ken had booked in to the ‘dress circle’ caravan park, I set up in the ‘cheap seats’ camp down the road, same view but not much else. After that epic climb, I was hoping for some chillax, but the word was fairy penguins were coming in on dusk to their nests among the rocks of the seawall, and I shouldn’t miss it.

With the setting sun, the wind started to pick up, while small groups gathered at anticipated vantage points along the boardwalk. As you can see, we could only use red headlamps and torches, because the white light could actually blind them. As a result, the quality is not great.

Still, they were very cute, the youngin’s chasing their mum around demanding to be fed.

With the show over and the wind blustering into the night, I took shelter in the van. Tomorrow was a day trip to the north-west corner of Tasmania, the wild west coast and The Edge of the World.