AN EPIC TREK TO SHADOW LAKE

November 1, 2012 No Comments

Dylan peeking around a moss covered tree trunk

Water flowing down river near Lake St Clair, Tasmania

Mossy path winding through the Tasmanian bush

Knobbly tree trunk on Lake St Clair to Shadow Lake hike

Our day took and unexpected turn. It started as a gentle stroll through gently mossed woodland and ended

a lurching, dizzy test of willpower to make it back.

The morning had slipped quietly away so Dylan forwent his ritual coffee and we marched off on the Lake St Clair – Shadow Lake walk. Close to the river the air was damp and cool, every moss covered corner seemed a probably hiding place for a wee team of fairies or hobgoblins. We hopped across stepping stones and over fallen trees, and crept upwards towards daylight.

Almost two hours in we reached a prehistoric looking landscape of Buttongrass and swampy soil, and I noticed that Dylan was looking grey. His head had begun thumping in earnest when we turned the corner to see the spectacular Shadow Lake gleaming in the suddenly dazzling hot sun.

I ate a solitary lunch watching ants steal breadcrumbs as Dylan dozed in his hammock, he awoke little improved. Insisting on heading back, he shrugged it off as a little caffeine withdrawal; he would be fine with a espresso back at the visitors centre… two hours away.

Day hike from Lake St Clair to Shadow Lake with hiking packs

Dylan taking a break to gaze at Tasmania bush

Orange and blue lichen on rocks along path

Dylan’s progress became more and more ragged as the headache, after a brief gestation, emerged a full blown migraine, complete with nausea and faintness. I kept a chirpy dialogue of landmarks I didn’t feel or sometimes even recognise as we trudged downwards. In hindsight a running commentary on the familiarity of various rocks is not helpful to a throbbing cranium.

We met the river with relief and I left Dylan to trek the last couple of kiliometres to the Visitors’ Centre while I packed the tent. Alone, his migraine turned so savage he lost his lunch and it was luck alone that I didn’t find it as I followed behind.

When I found him at the cafe, coffee in hand, Dylan was the picture of rosy cheeked health. Who would have thought tinkering with your dopamine system in the form of a coffee a day could reap such havoc!

Buttongrass (mesomelaena sphaerocephala) plains near Shadow Lake

Shadow Lake, reflections of clouds in the water

Travel

A CAMPSITE BY A LAKE

October 9, 2012 No Comments

Walking around the lake, driftwood and leafless shrubs

Stones around Lake St Clair, rounded by the swirling waters

Clouds of fog reflected in Lake St Clair, Tasmania

Dylan looking for fish and platypus in Lake St Clair

Banksia seed cone, Lake St Clair, Tasmania

Sweet little Paddymelon near the Lake St Clair campground

Strange fungus, lichen, growing on tree trunks

Dylan fishing in the river, Lake St Clair

Dylan under the bridge over the river at Lake St Clair, Tasmania

Deciduous beech tree by the river, the only deciduous Australian tree

Edible Pink Mountain Berries are bush tucker in Tasmania

We’re back from a beautiful spring holiday in Tasmania and there is so much to tell you, I’m quite overwhelmed by how many posts I have planned and how many photos I have to wade through! I have so much to tell you!

We worked to a deadline, and then in a flurry of papers bid a cheery sayonara to our colleagues and took off to meet the Spirit of Tasmania. As we hummed and whirred across the Strait the nautical novelty began wore off and we bundled ourselves upstairs with the ghosts. We just had to escape the layer of modern tackiness of poker machines and overpriced, greasy food. The way up to the top deck is hidden away and only a dozen people out of hundreds found their way up there. The little empty stage and wooden benches were from another era, the flickering soundless TVs adding to the forsaken feel.

The water raged against the ship, cold, dark and scary until morning.

The sun rose behind grey skies and we drove and drove, away from the city, past farms and tree stumps, to a wild and windswept campsite by Lake St Clair, walking distance from a not so wild cultural centre with all the amenities one could wish. Darling Paddymelons were our neighbours, so fat and furry, and cute cute cute. A baby quoll ran across our path by torch light as the fire in the hut crackled. Tomorrow would be an epic bush walk…

Family, Travel

BRIGHTEN YOUR DAY, IN ANY WAY

August 20, 2012 No Comments

Yellow lace-up gumboots in sparkling water

But my real secret to a sunny attitude this winter, is a pair of new sunnyside up gumboots! Good bye mopey me, hello bright yellow wellies!

Splashing through puddles

with a radiant set of waterproof stompers, is the perfect remedy to the winter grumps, with an added injection of child like glee. Added bonus during these stomping sessions, I’m whole-heartedly embracing any vitamin D thrown my way!

Wishing you a sunny winter and a shady summer! Xoxo

Elyse Boots Yellow by BOGS with yellow fallen leaves

Travel

THE MYSTERY OF THE SMOKING COMPUTER

August 17, 2012 No Comments

This King Parrot may look sweet, but he harbours a dirty, thieving secret, and it’s not his addiction to eating cashew nuts by the claw full.

Before I tell you about the pilfering little fiendies pictured above, let me share a far more bizarre mystery with you. A story, that I hope will excuse my disappearance from the blogosphere the past few months.

Ha! It’s not as dramatic or interesting as I’ve made out, but you can’t blame a girl from creating some suspense right?

Early on a rainy morning in May I found myself in the middle of a real life riddle that bore a funny, although FAR less morbid semblance to that old brain teaser about the man hanging from the ceiling with only a puddle of water beneath him. But in my story the only thing that died had a disc drive…

I was working at home and sleep dazzled, I slumped upstairs. Pushing passed the washing hanging on the line, light was just creeping onto the desk so I didn’t bother with the lamp. Before running downstairs to answer the kettles call I powered on the PC and it purred to life.

Downstairs, tea in hand, I began smelling a nasty chemical burning smell, I ran upward and was hit in the face with smoke, I sprang to pull the plug.

Prying open the computer, I winced, the graphics card was no more – melted and charred beyond recognition. What the hell caused that? The floor under the carcass was wet!

Could the roof have leaked in the rain? It seemed unlikely at the apex of the roof, and there was no water on the desk beside it. Could someone have done a dodgy and spilt a glass of water off the desk through the vent in the top? No glass…did someone conceal the evidence? Suspect profiles began swirling in my head, but, the best I could do was wait until Computer Doctor Dylan returned home to check the crime scene.

We cleared the desk of books, pens, lamp and papers so we could lift the computer off the floor for a closer look. Then we noticed a small wet patch near the corner desk, a perfectly round patch, and floating in it were weird crystals! But still it didn’t twig. Dylan to my horror tasted it…

the water was salty!

We looked inside the computer and saw little salty drops splashed throughout. Well it definitely wasn’t rain water…what could it be? It wasn’t until we were explaining it to our house mate that the mystery was solved. Suddenly her face fell.

“Did you say the water was salty? Umm…is my salt lamp still up there?” Salt lamp? Then we realised that the crystal shaped lamp upstairs was not plastic, it was a giant lump of salt! Sheepishly she noted that it seemed to strangely attract water (just what you want in an electrical device!).

The wet washing, crystals, circular patch on the desk above the computer, it all came together. The water must have dripped over the desk edge into the computer vent. Damn, goodbye insurance money. But if a computer is going to go out, it might as well be out in style like death by salt lamp. Hopefully my photos are still intact somewhere in that salty old motherboard.

Time will tell.

Oh and the parrot mystery? That was a bit more straight forward. Dylan’s mum’s tomatoes had been systematically decimated by some unknown beastie. Well this cheeky little guy was caught red feathered hoeing into the last of the winter tomatoes! He could only be distracted from his gastronomical adventures by cashew nuts…and blundstone boots?!?

King parrot eating tomatoes at Grey River