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East Coast 2017 ii Apr

East Coast Tasmania. Photography blog.
First, some late afternoon shots:


And then there was dawn. Most of the shots below are exposures of 2-3 minutes. I love such super-long exposures and the silky effect they enable. It’s always fun playing with water pre-dawn. Quite frankly, I’m not sure which of the below tones I prefer. Each has its own attraction for me. I’m always interested in feedback if you’d like to comment. That would make a pleasant change from the endless spam that clutters my Inbox these days.


On the East Coast of Tasmania. the rocks have a beautiful ‘latent’ orange hue – that is, the hue is always there to some degree or other, but in very low light, the rocks really begin to glow – as in the photo below.


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Rocky Cape National Park 2017 Mar

Rocky Cape National Park 2017 Mar

So near and yet so far … it is perhaps a mini travesty that we have lived in north Tasmania for as long as we have done, and yet have never put a foot inside Rocky Cape National Park. I must say, the fact that camping is not permitted there has had a huge amount to do with our absence. I am not a day-tripper sort of person.

However, on the final morning of our Tarkine adventure (on the fifth and final day), our leader had scheduled a short visit to this spot. I was most curious to see what I had been missing out on all these years. We drove in as far as we could before a final turnoff, when we chose right, following a sign that pointed to the beach, rather than left to boat launches, a day picnic area, and other such wonders. From our parking spot, we had a lovely hour-long wander around the coast, sometimes bushbashing (there was no track here) and other times following the rocky shore. I enjoyed the little coves of turbulent water, especially as the sky was still steely grey after the rain of the previous night.

After the others had departed on the way back to Hobart, we had a quick explore of the left-hand fork that we had rejected earlier. Here, I was amazed and not entirely pleased to find houses in a national park. I can understand that if they were there first, this creates an obvious problem. I did not, however, appreciate the fact that they were there with their dogs, whilst we were not only not allowed to camp, but were not even allowed to let our car wheels go past a certain turnoff, and yet their dogs roamed the waters of the nearest beach. When is a National Park not a National Park? Perhaps here. There seemed to be a reversal of expected values. I have nothing against dogs on beaches. My dog loves beaches. But when dogs are allowed but I am restricted, now that I object to. We didn’t stay long at Rocky Cape. One day I will disobey these inconsistent instructions and camp here to see early morning light at this place.

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Tarkine West Coast 2017 Mar

Tarkine, West Coast, day 3. Mar, 2017


Quoll prints on clean, windswept sand.
At last we arrived at the coast. Although I love mountains and lush, green, mossy paths, fungi, waterfalls and streams, I had been longing for the moment when we would reach the wild west coast and I could photograph some seascapes.


I am captivated by water’s motion, and dearly love every opportunity to attempt to record it with my camera. This coast did not disappoint, although the waters were perhaps a little less frenzied than I had hoped for.


The tide was on its way out, and was rather too calm for my liking. The sky was pretty cloudless, but that’s part of what I love about real photography. You take what nature gives you and do your best with that.


The very notion of being disappointed in what was there and popping in a fake sunball, or some snow or some passing birds in photoshop, just to make your photo more interesting, to me is anathema. I love the serendipitous in nature. I am her servant and not vice versa.


I hope you have enjoyed this small selection of the beauty I witnessed on the evening of day 3 of our Tarkine trip.

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East Coast 2017 i Feb

Tasmania’s East Coast: a place of healing. Feb 2017

My brother-in-law, Ken, is on the phone, wanting to speak to Bruce. I ask, to clarify, “Where are you expecting us to be?”
“Aahh, Intensive care.”
I feel a little guilty, because we are at the beach. My husband was let out of the ICU yesterday afternoon. I think I should justify my actions – my apparent recklessness and irresponsibility – so I begin: ” Do you know how, in books set in the eighteen- and nineteen-hundreds, patients with lung problems were sent to the coast for fresh sea air?”
Surely this casts my action in a good light.
“Yeees.”


“Well, Bruce was released from the ICU and hospital late yesterday, so I packed our bags and drove us down here today. I felt a great need to be by the ocean.”
I nervously await his response. Judgement … or approval?
He was delighted. His voice was soft and warm, the vowels drawn out as he took in what I had said.
“Wow. I really can’t think of a nicer place to be to recover after you’ve been in hospital. He’ll get better there, for sure. Can you see the sea from where you are?”
“Yep, and we’re about to have a short walk along the sand and maybe even a paddle if the water’s warm enough.” (It was).


And thus my husband begins his convalescence. And, as Ken is a lawyer, I guess I’m not going to be sued for lack of appropriate care of my charge. It was a glorious day on which to be alive, and to celebrate life to the sound of crashing waves, the feel of white sand under bare feet, the smell of salt in the air, the sight of deep blue, and the sense of joie de vivre that being on the beach brings.


That evening, I was shooting long-exposure sunsets on a little beach, and quite an audience amassed. They were all very interested in what was on my screen at the end of each shot, and, as this is inherently interesting, I didn’t question their gathering, although the number was rather surprising. I reasoned that it was a beautiful evenening, but that, there not being much else on, watching an image flash on a screen every couple of minutes was about as good as it got. When I left, one of these admirers asked me if this was, indeed, the beach where all the penguins landed. Ohhh. Let down. They were there for penguins, and I just happened to be the avant-spectacle entertainment. I needed to get Bruce out of the night air, so wished them good luck and left.


Next morning, I arose a good hour before dawn to get into position in the dark for my normal at-the-beach pre-dawn shoot, where I love to take very long exposure shots in the dark. Having the sensor exposed for several minutes enables it to capture the burgeoning light that it can register, but the eye cannot yet quite see. I had forgotten all about the penguins. I stood there, a rock, immobile for my shoot. While I was waiting for the first light of dawn, they began to waddle past, some about five centimetres from my bare toes, unaware that I was an animate object. This experience of being part of their environment was far more special than the dawn colours I captured (especially as I am having problems with my overly skinny tripod at present). Penguins observed from a cheap fake-wood stage strutting on grass and lit by false lighting just do nothing for me, but penguins nearly treading on my toes in the dark, creatures of nature together as they traverse the sand on their way to the sea, that does it for me completely. The magic of that morning will remain with me for the rest of my life.

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Kangaroo Island Wilderness Trail 2016 Oct

A thrilling start to day one.

What a welcome addition the Kangaroo Island Wilderness Trail (KIWT) is to our nation’s list of possibilities for long distance walking – and what better than a primarily coastal path. As any follower of my blog knows, I love getting out into “Type A” wilderness (no paths, no infrastructure: just pristine nature), but that does NOT mean I spurn paths and trails; what I especially love is a track where everyone is doing the same route and so shares a common pilgrimage.

The scenery on day two was my favourite

I once walked a long distance trail of my own design in Grand Paradiso National Park (Italy), where there were abundant paths and possibilities, but not one person I met shared my destiny. The instantaneous camaraderie of a set route was never there, and this track holds no place in my emotional psyche. A route like KIWT offers the chance to meet fellow travellers of shared interest.

I just don’t tire of colours like this (Day two cont)

I could almost be called a multi-day coastal path junkie, having walked the South Coast Track (TAS), the South West Cape Track (TAS), the Thorsborne Trail (QLD), the Coast Track of the Royal National Park (NSW), the old version of the Three Capes (TAS), the South West Coast Path (ENG), the Pembrokeshire Coast Path (Wales), Wilson’s Prom (VIC) and the Abel Tasman Track (NZ). I feel I’m thus qualified to place a judgement on this track, and my verdict is that it can hold its head high. I have adored all these trails. There is something special about wild cliff tops overlooking vast expanses of ocean with the wind in your face and a proper pack on your back. The presence of seals on this track as you gaze south gives a very exotic feel. Beaches that you have taken a few days to walk to and that are inaccessible to the madding crowds are also very special places. Note, I said a “proper pack”, by which I mean a full-sized, laden one. Daypacks just don’t do it for me. A real pack is a symbol of freedom and adventure, heavy though it may be. I think the weight is part of what bonds walkers when they meet each other. Here is another person willing to endure this kind of burden in order to have this kind of encounter with nature.

Beach walking, day two

So, why do I find this particular track such a welcome addition?
First, it provides a possibility to walk a distance trail in the driest state on the driest continent on earth, yet with the guarantee of water at the end of the day. Kangaroo Island is a very special place, but it would be a very uncomfortable walk without the provision of a campsite with water at the end of each day. This is not something to take for granted.

I arrived here in time for sunset at the end of the day 2 section. 

Second, the diversity of scenery is thrilling, from scrubland of taller eucalypts to coastal mallee sections, a fabulous river mouth as the Rocky River enters the sea, the brilliant cliff and beach sections, the spellbinding rock formations, the lagoons, and finally, the sinkholes near the end.

And here is the highlight for me of day three: The Remarkable Rocks

Third, the diversity of plants adds to this already stimulating variety. See the blog I have already published (below) for a full list of the wildflowers I identified in the first two days on the track. You will find about 45 listed. Even if you grouped them into colours – mauve, yellow, pink, white, red, orange – you would then need to discuss size, colour intensity, shape and all the other factors that make each one different and a pleasure to look at.

On day three I also enjoyed my side trip to Sanderson Beach

Fourth (but not in fourth position by any means), how can one not mention the animals? On the first and final days, I had the extreme privilege of seeing wild koalas doing their thing in the trees above me (so, sleeping or eating). I saw big KI Roos on all days except the second, with some putting on a boxing display during dinner on the fourth night. Goannas were plentiful on the first day, and I saw an echidna or two. Equal in pleasure for me with the koalas were the seals at the end of day 2 at Admirals Arch. I especially loved the pups who looked up at me with their endearing, huge eyes. I spent ages watching seals.

On the afternoon, and again in the evening of day 3, I also walked out to the cliffs 15 mins from the campsite to enjoy their drama.

There were a lot of cliffs on the journey (days 2, 3 and 4). Maybe you think that one cliff line is like another, but cliffs are like people, and each one is different – in rock type, or formation, in the aspect or the particular way it drops into the ocean or the way its rocks catch the light or in the view along the coast each provides. There’s always something to entertain.

Sanderson cliffs. LOVE them.

The beauty of this path is not weather dependent. I should know, as I experienced everything other than snow. I began rugged up from the cold, but had stripped down to singlet and shorts by the first afternoon. Day 3 brought a literal gale, where I was blown off the path several times. Days 4 and 5 had rain – sometimes heavy – and hail, along with very high winds at times, but nothing detracted from the fun of the journey, even though at a theoretical level I would have preferred to have been warmer. The communal cooking areas (with sheltering roof, windbreak and guarantee of water) made a huge difference, as you could socialise there with other walkers, and not be confined to the prison of your tent in the presence of rain. You can sit at table and chat to others, and you can even, as the girls I met and I did, play games under the shelter.

Day 4. Here are Helen, Kirsty, Jules and Mary walking along the cliffs. Being and to the left is a unique view of the Remarkable Rocks, not offered to car drivers.

I had connected with the four others who had started the track when I did – the first to do the track following the Premier’s official launch the day before – by the third night when I returned from a sunset photoshoot on the nearby cliff line. It was cold enough for some of us to cocoon ourselves in our sleeping bags while we sat at the table, but we had great fun meeting each other and talking and laughing our way through the evening.

Hanson Bay Day four.
The worst part about doing this trail is finishing. As I hugged farewell to Kirsty, Helen, Mary and Jules, and later, to Alison, the wilderness trail manager, I was filled already with a terrible nostalgia for the walk and all it represented. I would have happily begun it all over again straight away.

Great Walks magazine is publishing an article I have written on this walk in its December-January edition, where I give a day by day description of my walk. I have deliberately kept this blog different, and more general, to provide two alternative approaches to the story of the trail. I have also tried to provide different photos to give you variety. For a day by day account, please buy this great magazine. Buy it anyway, not just that issue. We need to keep bushwalking magazines alive. I hate the way airports offer you motoring and cycling and fishing, but no walking. Give me bushwalking pictures and stories, please.