Stormy Weather

We left just after lunch to make another of Ken’s ‘chosen one’ locations, Policeman’s Point. But first an overnighter at Hillcrest Tourist Park just outside St Helens, for a recharge and water replenish. However we were being chased by a change in the weather. Strong winds being pushed by a large storm front were heading our way. Perhaps we should have taken ‘Hillcrest’ more literally before choosing our accommodation that night. Barely two hours after our setting up, the winds were roaring through the caravan park and our vans were rocking on their wheels. It continued all through the night, before the morning brought some respite, but the skies wear leaden.

Summer had definitely worn out it’s welcome here. Jumpers and hoodies were dragged out of cupboards. Whatever ideas we had of another balmy beach side sojourn, were now just thought bubbles, blown away with the wind. Policeman’s Point was only an hour away and, as per the program, I was sent ahead to scout out another ‘dual occupancy’. However by the time I’d got there, the wind had picked up again and the priority became which sites offered the best protection.

Ken was taking longer than expected to arrive and thoughts of the Lake Mackenzie disaster resurfaced. After all, the signpost at the turnoff was misleading, having fallen victim to it earlier. He finally turned up, having been somewhat more stubborn about his misdirection(well, he has some form in this area…lol). Still possessed by the ‘lure’ of the big fish, I was forced marched along the shore of Ansons Bay to the estuary, as Ken searched intently for some mystical combination of sand, weed and current. Beach fishing was definitely not an option.

We scuttled back to the warmth of the vans and my newly resurrected diesel heater. His search had not gone well, and the thought of hunkering down in such a remote location to ride out the weather for the next three days, was becoming less appealing to him as every hour passed. So, the next morning, he sorta nicked off, heading back to the Bay of Fires. He was going solo for the first time on our trip. As I waved him away, I heard myself saying, “May the force be with you.” My ‘young Jedi’ was graduating.

So, here I was, alone again, naturally. Luckily, the little village across the bay had an internet tower and, to be honest, I needed some relief from Ken’s ‘punishing’ schedule. A mixture of blogging, sport and Netflix kept me pretty well content for the next two days. In between blustery showers, I’d walk out to the ocean and along the beach. The scene was wild and windswept, the skies, dark and threatening.

Yet, in all this inclemency, nature can throw you crumbs of opportunity to capture it at work.

We hooked up back at the turnoff that morning, our plan to skirt round to the north coast of Tassie. Over a cuppa, we both agreed that one more lighthouse wasn’t going to hurt and the Point Eddystone lighthouse was a mere 30 minutes away. We had both seen it from Policeman’s Point a few days earlier. It was a lumpy, bumpy dirt road in, but bitumen at the end and enough parking at the boat ramp (nobody would be venturing out today). The wind was down, the seas were up and the lighthouse was a stunning, sandstone edifice. Rivulets of blue sky were starting to break through – things were looking up. The swell was still raging against the cliffs and rocky outcrops.

I took another ‘few minutes’, not as many as at St Columba Falls, but enough for Ken to come looking for me. This was our last look at the east coast. It was just after 11am when we were back on North Ansons Road and heading towards possibly our last throw of the line- Ransons Beach.