East Coast Farewell
Sitting at a rickety table at the Port Arthur General Store, flicking through every accommodation app we had, we came to a quiet conclusion – our time in Tasmania was coming to an end.
Not a single hotel or campsite available along the East Coast.
So we rescheduled our boat ride home and booked a night in Launceston.
Time to head north.
Of course, no Tassie road trip feels complete without a stop at Freycinet National Park. Along with every other traveller, we made our way toward the Wineglass Bay lookout.
Only… there wasn’t much to see.
The mist had rolled in thick, low clouds hanging heavy over everything. Visibility dropped to just a few feet in front of us. No postcard view. No perfect photo.
But honestly, that’s never really been my thing.
The mood, the softness, the quiet – it felt better this way.
We continued up the coast, stopping at Bay of Fires for lunch. Stepping across the deep red-orange rocks, camera in hand, trying not to slip – less about the rocks, more about being completely underprepared for the rock hopping.
Then we found a place called The Gardens.
Easily one of the most spectacular places I’ve seen.
The car park had turned into an overflow campsite, not a spot left, but we managed to pull over long enough to take it in. Crystal-clear turquoise water moving over those fiery red rocks. One of those places that makes you stop without saying much.
I made a quiet note to come back, off-season, when it’s just the landscape and a little more space to breathe.
Then back in the car. Still more to see before the boat the next day.
We reached Launceston, dropped our bags, had a quick shower, and headed out to a local brewery for pizza before finding a soft pillow and calling it a day.
The journey back across the Bass Strait was calm. Gentle.
Nothing like the way over.
Until next time, Tassie.
End of Tassie series.
Fish caught = zero
