Monday 4 September 23
South Coast Track, Tasmania
The cabin went ‘dark’ by about 2030, the silence broken only by the slight synthetic rustle of moving sleeping bags and then by the mournful sound of an owl. Those things always sound like they have just been kicked out of home. The hut is cold – a large volume of air like this can never be heated to comfortable levels in the same way a small tent can be heated up by body heat. I drifted off and woke after midnight and even the owl was now silent under a bright albeit waning moon.
A wander outside earlier had revealed a stunning view of the Milky Way and a strange dancing light on the horizon, which I suspect was Aurora Australis. Now the moon had wiped it all out under its own magic, shining down on frogs croaking their appreciation and on slow moving ribbons of fog shifting down invisible creek lines.
We were up well before dawn and stood in a degree of frost to watch the sun drop down the range in front of us and slowly march across the airstrip until it bathed us. As that happened the breeze sprang up and we were chased by the cold back to the hut to have breakfast and to pack for the day.
On the track at 0805 and at Cox Bight site with the tent up by 1300. In between we had a magnificent day of walking. Clear skies helped but the heat forced a couple of stops to strip layers.The first seven kilometres track south was across marshy plains and boardwalks marked a lot of the track for which we are thankful. The next four kilometres lift onto the skirt of New Harbour Range and the track is mostly quartzite and less bog but there are still sections that require us to be on board walks. The final kilometres bringing us to 13.5 for the day are along a beach at Cox Bight. That was a special treat.
Along the way we were treated to a variety of wildlife starting with a lovely Shrike Thrush which boldly hopped up to the door of the hut as the sun came up and sang for his breakfast. Nothing from us but we sure did appreciate the song. And his engagement. At the three kilometre mark we found a Tiger Snake on the track which moved off and watched us watch him for a little while. A beautiful animal. The reeds and heather he was hiding in made identification a bit tricky. Wombat scat and paw prints everywhere, one delightful trail which ran for upwards of a kilometre was of an adult wombat and a juvenile. Psychedelic caterpillars. Green rosellas. Grass parrots. Yabbies everywhere. And lots of flowers. At our campsite for the night we have Tasmanian Laurel in full flower. That creamy flower is a delight.
The promised front came through just after 1500 with high dark cloud shifting the day towards rain which came in small showers around 1800. We have a tarp up over the tent so that gives us a lot of living space. Above all, if we have wet days ahead as promised, setting up and taking down in the tent will not result in too much wet gear.
The wind rushes down the valley we just walked and mashes the forest canopy but mostly leaves us alone. The noise of the wind blends with the sound of the surf which is only 30m from our front door.
Lots of reflection on the track today. We have always appreciated being outdoors but this trip is perhaps especially savoured given the couple of health scares Ive had recently. Reflective thoughts also dwelt on those I know who would enjoy this sort of caper but who are no longer able to get out to these sorts of places. We are very grateful. Tangled up in that introspection were thoughts of David Paton. I have a couple of walking quirks which, rightly or wrongly, I suspect have their origins in that mentor of mine. He would enjoy the wildness of this place.
