I can’t blame you if you question what a walk along Barnbougle Beach is doing in a blog that mostly contains “real” bushwalking (so, walking at least at some stage in the bush), with the odd post on Orienteering, which also, at least, generally takes place in the bush. What was I doing on such a walk?
Well, the walk was being done by friends who manage to make themselves clear on a Wednesday. When reading the description, I noted that this “bushwalk” included having lunch at a Lost Farm Restaurant. I imagined some farming couple up there on the coast feeding us produce from their own paddocks in a homey sort of atmosphere, and I thought it would be fun to try. The walk would be at least 12 kms long, which is not a lot, but would do, so curiosity had me stick my name on the list. I would not normally volunteer for a flat walk of that kind, but something urged me to give it a go.
Over the first dune we went (actually, via a tunnel) and out we emerged into a marvel of aquamarine and white, stretching vast distances to left and right. I was in love, and I hadn’t quite made my first step on the pure sand yet. A variety of seabirds flitted past. I’d even seen a Wedge-tailed eagle from a mere three metres away as I drove in, but it had gone by the time I grabbed the camera placed in the passenger’s seat.
I walked, talked and dreamt, dropping back quite often in order to spend time with this or that bird, and then catching the others afterwards, enjoying the expanse, the colours, the views and conversations with my companions. We had four river crossings to do this day. The first was very easy. I took off my shoes, and enjoyed the feel of the cool water on my feet and the texture of the soft sand. I walked a few kilometres in bare feet afterwards, quite often just in the water. Some went swimming in our food break.
The next crossing, at the mouth of Anderson Bay, was more challenging. Low tide was still an hour or so away, but we didn’t feel like waiting that long, so crossed anyway. I hoped the “tidal rush” wouldn’t topple me. Knowing that we had these crossings, I had left my very best camera and birding lens at home, but my second best is also very good and also expensive, so I didn’t want to accidentally lose balance. The others seemed to find merriment in how slow and careful I was executing this crossing, but I managed to get through it without damaging any of my gear, and that was all I cared about.
Lost Farm turned out to be the Restaurant attached to Barnbougle. The view out the window had me do a quiet gasp, and it so happened the food was wonderful. The mood was relaxed: fine company; delicious food; stories and laughter circulating. The grins in the photo are not lying. Unfortunately nobody else wanted dessert, so I stored that idea for some future visit; at least we had coffee and a biscuit at the very end of the day (after two more careful river crossings further west) before driving home. The others are connecting other walks they’ve done in order to eventually have walked from the far NE of Tasmania to some point further west. The Tamar? Whatever; if I want to do that too I have some serious catching up to do.
