Baby’s gone bush

Summer holiday mornings are idled away watching Ember back stroking on a sea of hardwood floor. With a cushion under her she frog legs along, ceiling gazing, until she disappears under the couch. This new activity seems to have usurped quacking and no new words have surfaced if you don’t count the odd “ungee” which can’t yet be confirmed as “hungry”. We pass the rest of our lazy days playing cards (together), painting and surfing (separately). Sometimes this routine is punctuated with baby sized adventures.

We took Babu on her first Bush walk, that turned into more of a Bush bash thanks to grandad by association, Phil’s neglect of the path. Emby enjoyed the view while dad, hampered by the baby backpack and mum, hampered by her choice of sundress scrambled, ducked and scampered over branches and through overgrown scrub.

Some sections were veritable fairy glades with moss covered carpet, fern umbrellas and mauve fan like flowers. Once out of the eucalptus, enjoyment dipped as the tea tree scramble was accompanied by a path that suddenly sprouted blades of grass or reed like a corridor of paper cuts.

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It was pretty, many parts like a Totoro forest maze (thanks aunty Jessie for the lend of the dvd, we finally found time and a dvd player to watch it) but spirits were high once we exited into open air and spied that flat ocean horizon.

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Little one was just about napping due to the gentle rocking of the walk but perked up a plenty once a snack and sand were on the table.

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On the way back the scrub beside the path crunched and swayed like a dinosaur was barging its way through and Ember and I held our breaths to see what monster would emerge. Out of the wildly dancing ferns appear a snout and then the hilarious little body of an echidna. No wonder they need the spines for defence with the racket they make. I’ve only seen an echidna once before at Grey so it was a real treat. I suppose Emby will think it’s standard as she’s 1 for 1 echidna sighting per trip.

After her adventures she has some of her best naps and our strict routine is still rewarding us with much better sleeps.

 

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a mini otway adventure


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It would be clear to all regular visitors that I have fallen so far behind in my blogging that I am currently writing my gardening posts to coincide with the seasons in the Northern hemisphere, so just for a breath of fresh air I’m actually posting photos I took last weekend rather than 6 months ago.

A great ocean walk was a welcome escape from the city.

Despite a few autumn rain showers the air didn’t have that inland chill. Although our housemate, Jess, may not have agreed. Shod in inappropriate footwear, she was lead first into a bog, masquerading as a delightful field of bobbing rushes and then through a tidal creek. She was not as lucky as me to get a piggyback across. Slow to mastered the art of outrage tempered with well timed puppy dog eyes, she made it across in time for a gentle outpouring of wintry rain. A chance for Dylan, ever the adventurer, to try out his new lightweight camping umbrella (apparently all the cool hikers have one).

In the end we were driven to shelter for a sojourn of hot tea on a camping stove and a chance for Jess to dry her hems. Did I mention that she is suffering from bursitis in her foot? The walking pole became her new best friend, and her spirits seemed to soar with ever tribulation that befell her. I think that the white chocolate berry macadamia delight she had smuggled in Dylan’s backpack as well as the stunning location didn’t hurt either.

Some rock scrambling ensued between high tide wave sets that led us to towering dunes. Slower to scramble up the crumbling mounds Jess and I found ourselves alone at the top, Dylan had vanished. We screamed and whislted into the wind as dusk settled around us. Resigned to our fate of night in the scrub he reappeared from the besach below us having completed the loop and returned to congratulate himself. Luckily he brought a rainbow with him or he would have been in real big trouble.


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AN EPIC TREK TO SHADOW LAKE

Walking through the forest near Lake St Clair, Tasmania


 
 

WAlking through the bush
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

 

Mossy Tasmania forest tree trunks



 
 

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.

Little Paddymelon hiding in bushes



 
 

Day hike from Lake St Clair to Shadow Lake with hiking packs
Red fungi/mushrooms on light green moss
 
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!


Walking through white gum tree trunks
Twisted roots in path





 
 

Buttongrass (mesomelaena sphaerocephala) plains near Shadow Lake
Shadow Lake, reflections of clouds in the water



 
 

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A CAMPSITE BY A LAKE

Paddymelon grooming itself, so cute!

 

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
Swirling bark on a log by the lake
 
Dylan looking for fish and platypus in Lake St Clair



 
 

Banksia seed cone, Lake St Clair, Tasmania
 
Paddymelon grooming itself, so cute!
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…

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