The Wild West: 2

We spent four nights and five days walking the coast, but rather than an "and then we went to this place" sort of post I thought I'd concentrate on the scenery and the aboriginal history this time.

Looking south from our second camp, at Interview River
Savage coast, even on a "calm" day

Full Day 1 took us along the rockiest part of the coast to the Interview River. (I'd love to know the origin of that name: did Abel Janzoon Tasman grill each of his crew members before deciding who was going to swim ashore with the Dutch flag?) The coast here is a succession of little rocky bays and headlands, all being dashed by the Southern Ocean, and remember, the potential fetch for the waves extends all the way to Argentina! The rocks are of various types, but except for the places where granite reaches the shore they are savagely rough. Being shipwrecked on this coast doesn't bear thinking about.

The start of the long beaches
(Hamish wondering whether he can go fishing)

"Trudging" is the appropriate word

On and on and on....
Can you see the walkers in the distance?

We were certainly not the only beach users!
Devil, wallaby and beetle tracks

Days 2 & 3 took us along vast sandy beaches; vast both in length and depth. With the spray coming in from the breakers it was often impossible to see the far end of the beach, and on this very exposed coast the wind and storm waves have created a huge strandline, backed by enormous dunes. The dunes are very mobile, so they are constantly engulfing the bush at one end and exposing old soil surfaces at the other as they creep across the landscape.

A series of rivers and streams flow to the sea, or at least the larger ones do. Some are completely blocked by the dunes to form lakes, while others just manage to break through the sand. We only had to get our boots off to cross a couple (the Interview and Lagoon Rivers) but neither reached above the knee.

Our passage along the beaches was slow; not only because of the soft sand in places, but also because I was hoping to survey the beaches for Hooded Plovers, a little shorebird that is under serious pressure on most Australian beaches since it nests just above the high water mark. Tasmanian beaches, and especially these remote ones, are an important refuge. So we were scanning the top of the beach as we walked, but fortunately soon discovered that the birds seemed to concentrate around the streams. In the end we saw over 30 birds, and that was probably an underestimate, since some were singles and probably had a mate sitting on eggs somewhere nearby. Other significant birds included a large flock of Red-necked Stints and a number of Ruddy Turnstones on the rocky reefs. Both of these birds breed in Siberia and fly to Australia for their summer holidays.

Camp 3, in the heart of the Tarkiner's country

But it seemed all the time that we were walking on a haunted coast. If a group of slim dark figures had appeared from the bush we would hardly have been surprised, since the evidence of aboriginal occupation is all around and plain to see. The Tarkiner people from this part of Tasmania were probably more sedentary than other tribes since the local food supply from land and sea was so abundant that they did not need to make seasonal migrations. Most obvious traces are the huge piles of shells ("middens") that make it easy to believe that they were here for more than forty thousand years: periwinkles, abalone and many other shellfish, with smaller amounts of bone. They used stone tools and scrapers, hand axes, flakes and the stones from which they were chipped litter the ground; picking them up gives you a feeling of connection for a moment, but all these relics must be left where they are found. It's sad that not everyone respects these traces; vehicle tracks right through middens are quite common.

A small midden
They were everywhere

One of the larger middens
All the white material is shells accumulated by aboriginal people

Midden closer up

Midden detail
Periwinkles, whelks, abalone

Stone scraper in situ
Don't take it home!

More stone tools
It was rather eerie to handle them

4WD tracks over a big midden
Unnecessary

We saw several hut depressions: hollows in the dunes that were once roofed over and lined to accommodate an extended family hearth group. The tragedy is that we know so little about these people. They were all gone before the mid-1800s and no one bothered to find out much about how they lived or what was important to their culture. As I was walking along I was struck by the thought that they would have looked on this wild landscape with complete familiarity, knowing where to go and what to do for all their needs, while we must carry all our tents, our clothing, our food, cooking stoves.......... and the satellite phone.

An eroded hut depression
Excavations have revealed quite a complex structure

Granite rocks at Lanes Tor
Hard not to think of Easter Island, or the Pukel Men

She has gazed out to sea for centuries

Camp fire on the beach at Lagoon River
But we still need so much stuff to survive here

As we neared Sandy Cape the influence of the more recent inhabitants of this coast became more and more obvious (though we had followed 4WD tracks almost all the way from the Pieman). But that's another story........

Nearly there!
Approaching Sandy Cape

The Wild West: 1

Sorry that it has been a while between posts, but the time seemed to be well-filled after Christmas. But now I have An Adventure to relate.

Late last year we were inveigled (look it up) to book a walking trip on Tasmania's west coast with some of the friends that we have been walking with before. It was a guided walk, organised by Tarkine Trails, but unlike previous walks this one required us to carry just about everything (apart from cooking gear). Jeannie was a bit nervous about her capacity to do this and for a week or two beforehand would probably have welcomed some excuse to cry off. However, last Tuesday we packed our packs, slung them in the car and drove from Boat Harbour to beautiful Burnie, where we met the rest of the group (some of whom had been in a bus since 5.30 am). After a gear check, and receiving our share of the food and our tent we joined the bus and were driven to Corinna, a tiny settlement on the Pieman River, deep in the rainforest of the far west.

Unpacking at Corinna.
Packs weighed 15-20 kg

Ferry at Corinna in the rainforest

The walk started at the Pieman Heads, and to get there we boarded the Arcadia II, a river cruiser built of huon pine, and a history going back beyond WWII. The ninety minute cruise took us through dense rainforest until we could see the surf breaking on the bar at the river mouth. We moored on the southern side and were ferried across to the start of the track in a little inflatable (three people and their packs, plus the driver. Jeannie insisted on being in the middle).

Crossing the mouth of the Pieman River.
Nervous smiles.

Farewell the Arcadia
Our last link with civilisation

The Wild West
The last part of Tasmania where people (think they) can do whatever they like

We were asked to start the expedition with some private acknowledgment of the aboriginal inhabitants of the land, since this is the part of Tasmania where their presence can be most strongly seen and felt. I'll deal with that in a later post. Then we shouldered our packs ("Can I really carry this thing for five days?") and walked just a couple of kilometres to our first camp, on a grassy marsupial lawn just above the high tide.

Coastal view at the first camp site

Camp site 1
Tents pitched, ready for dinner

Jeannie and I shared a tent, of course, but we shared the carrying of it as well. The tents were Canadian and very well-designed. We quickly became experts at putting it up and as it turned out the first night tested it a bit, being both wet and windy, but it performed well.

Our friend Hamish brought his fishing rod (strictly fly-only) and persuaded me to bring mine as well. He would fish in a roadside puddle, failing anything better, and was soon up to his ..... in the sea, catching little cocky salmon. But then there were cries of delight and he came ashore with a flounder! Not very many of them have been caught on a fly, I reckon. It made an hors d'ouvre for dinner (the rest was a rice noodle stir fry with smoked tofu, with a glass of cask red).

The Big Fisherman
Hamish against the flounder

The catch
"You want me to divide that into 12 pieces??"

And so to bed on our inflatable mats, where we slept fairly well despite the wind and rain without.

To be continued........

Christmas in the sun

Christmas Day, Kingston Beach
From our front window.

I was surprised to find how "right" it felt to be back in the Southern Hemisphere for Christmas. Jean still thought the deep and dark December in Texas was appropriate, but when I got home and felt the sun, saw the long days and everything growing it just shouted "Christmas" and "Summer Holidays". So here's a brief report of our Christmas and the lead up to it, written on a gloriously sunny Boxing Day, with the prospect of the beach tomorrow.

The family we left behind

We tried to smuggle him out, but we were stopped at Customs

After our slightly traumatic return trip (though in the end we arrive quarter of an hour earlier than originally scheduled), it was good to see Hugh, Jess and the boys, and get back home. Hugh warned us about the garden, and so we were not too shocked by the weed growth, but it is taking us ages to clear it all. There were still some vegetables underneath the growth and the raspberries are in full swing.

We were keen to see the progress on Hugh and Jess's new house, and what they have done is most impressive. The house (their own design) is in two sections: living and sleeping. Hugh already has plans for the garden. But their pre-Christmas has not been all well: returning from a family reunion a couple of days ago they were rear-ended while stationary and their faithful Saab was written off! Fortunately it gave its life to save them from injury; although Jess was checked out for neck damage she was soon recovered and none of the rest were hurt. But they have been seriously inconvenienced, even with the provision of a hire car, just before the holiday.

Hugh the Builder
Can he fix it?

Hugh & Jess's new house

The week before Christmas was hectic for us, as ever. I had a trip to Devonport and Jeannie was busy in the kitchen, so it was relief when Christmas Day dawned, bright and sunny, and we went down to Hugh and Jess's for breakfast. The boys had slept well and so they were all in fine form as we sat down to smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. They liked their presents, but Angus' favourite was car with wheels that could be taken off with a special tool.

Angus and the Christmas tree
The cardinal was his favourite decoration

Christmas breakfast and presents

George liked the turtle

Angus liked the car (no surprise there)

A Mexican Indian, lost in Tasmania

We then had a quiet day at home before going round to the Mortons for dinner. Everyone else was full after lunches elsewhere, but Jeannie and I tucked into to beautiful turkey and ham.

Jeannie's glazed ham

Christmas dinner at Morton's

Tired boys
Note the matching Mini tee-shirts

Now we just have to pack the car and head north. The forecast is good for the next few days. I wish we could package some sun for those of you at the other end of the world.

Farewell to Texas

After two and a half months our time here is almost up. On Saturday we swap grey, overcast Texas for, well...... grey overcast Hobart, if the forecast is anything to go by. Not much to chose between the temperatures, apparently.

We have had a couple more adventures since Thanksgiving. We went into downtown San Antonio and visited El Mercado, the Mexican market. This has a huge range of stuff from absolute tat to wonderful colourful ceramics, textiles etc., but our problem, as on previous visits, was to stop boggling and actually make some decisions about purchases. We managed a few and the girls bought us a beautiful glazed sink in a sort of peacock pattern that will eventually find its way to the shack at Boat Harbour.

El Mercado mural
San Antonio is a Spanish city

El Mercado street

Weird creatures

And always the Day of the Dead

But then there's the Texan influence!

And last weekend we all went down to Port Aransas, on the Gulf coast, to stay in an apartment at the Aransas Princess condominium, which looks fairly gross from the outside, but is pretty good when you are inside, looking out at the view. Port Aransas is a summer getaway from San Antonio, but people were a bit dubious about our going there in the winter, and indeed we managed to choose the coldest weekend so far, so cold that there was even sleet and frost overnight! These are rare events in what they call "Tropical Texas". It was a lot of fun; the first day was cold and stormy, but on Saturday the skies cleared, and although it was still cold by local standards, it was a glorious day for our boat trip.

Sitting out the storm at Port Aransas

All busy in our various ways

Tropical Texas!
Jeannie well wrapped for a walk along the Gulf coast

Cold and frosty sunset
The Corpus Christi skyline floating like a mirage

One of the reasons for visiting was to get to see the Whooping Cranes. These are highly threatened birds, with a wild population of a bit over 200, which breed in Northern Canada and then fly south in family groups to overwinter, and feed up on blue crabs, in the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge. The best way to see them is from the water, so Jac, Jean and I drove down to Rockport and joined a tour on the "Wharf Cat" which lasted for about four hours. The boat took us down the interstate waterway that runs inside the barrier islands and carries a heavy traffic of barges filled with various fairly noxious petroleum products. But it also runs alongside the wildlife refuge, and sure enough, there were the cranes, usually mum, dad and a well-grown chick, each family on the territory that they return to every year. At about 5 ft tall they are impressive birds, but there was so much more to see: hundreds of waterbirds, dolphins, a couple of coyotes etc etc. We were well-pleased with the trip, though we were glad to be well rugged-up.

The Wharf Cat getting ready to leave Rockport

Serious camera gear coming on board
Jac said it made her feel inadequate.
I was so overcome with the birds that I took no pictures at all, but keep an eye on Jac's blog!

They are out there
But very torpid under these conditions

Needless to say, we ate well too!

Gulf shrimp, Jac-style
So good

And now we have to face up to tidying up, getting the bags packed and wondering how far over the baggage allowance we are going to be. At least with Jo and Jac coming home in a few months we can any serious excess with them. We'll miss them all, of course, especially the Smallest One, but knowing that they will be home soon draws the sting from saying goodbye.

See you in Hobart, Marty Roo