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Day Eight: Bridport and the surrounding area

Wednesday 26th November, 2008

This particular morning no one was in much of a hurry to rise – the wind had let up ever so slightly, but it wasn’t exactly what you would call hospitable outside our little canvas home.

Alas, we could not lie in bed all day (although some of us definitely would have liked to!) due to Dad’s renewed enthusiasm. Heaven knows where it came from, but they say a smile is infectious, and I’m afraid to say that they, who ever they may be, are right.

So we all set off for a morning walk, which, despite my grumblings, was quite pleasant. We walked down the beach front of the town, looking at whatever took our fancy along the way. Eventually this path took us to the shipping yards, which were refreshingly different from others I had seen in Tasmania so far - there was a lack of threatening signs and barbed wire for one thing, and no one peering out between the gap in their curtains when we walked onto the jetty.

As we walked back up the main street we quite conveniently passed a small corner store that sold fresh fish and chips – we were running a bit low on supplies at this stage, so my siblings and me managed to convince our elders that some seafood would suit just fine. Half an hour later we were enjoying our fare back in the comfort of our little camper trailer (and yes, it was very good – just one of the advantages of sticking to the coast I suppose).

After we let our meal settle we decided to explore the area a little more widely – so we all jumped into the car and headed off to see what we could find. It wasn’t long before we found a place worth stopping at – a seemingly deserted holiday town called Tomahawk. We followed the signs to the picnic area – which we deemed not to exist after 15 minutes of fruitless searching – but instead found a narrow path that took us out to one of the widest beaches I have ever seen. Perhaps it was low tide, but either way this beach was so vast I could scarcely see the ocean at all.

Inspired to explore what lay beyond the horizon, we held our hats to our heads and set off. It must have been deceptive, as it didn’t take us that long at all to reach a distant island we had barely been able to see from the car. Dad waited at the bottom, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up for my siblings at me – we climbed the rocky outcrop until we reached the sheer drop into the ocean on the far side. It was absolutely breath – taking, but all good things must come to an end I’m sorry to say. Dad , standing at the bottom, waved us down, so we christened it ‘Hazeldine Isle’ after my Grandad, and started our descent.

On the way home we made one more stop off – to the Waterhouse Conservation Area, where we drove to the top of one of the hills. We could see for miles – even our little island to the south. The wind never let up, not once – but as we settle back into the trailer out of the wind, I don’t think any one of us would have changed it.

Description
Day Eight: Bridport and the surrounding area

Wednesday 26th November, 2008

This particular morning no one was in much of a hurry to rise – the wind had let up ever so slightly, but it wasn’t exactly what you would call hospitable outside our little canvas home.

Alas, we could not lie in bed all day (although some of us definitely would have liked to!) due to Dad’s renewed enthusiasm. Heaven knows where it came from, but they say a smile is infectious, and I’m afraid to say that they, who ever they may be, are right.

So we all set off for a morning walk, which, despite my grumblings, was quite pleasant. We walked down the beach front of the town, looking at whatever took our fancy along the way. Eventually this path took us to the shipping yards, which were refreshingly different from others I had seen in Tasmania so far - there was a lack of threatening signs and barbed wire for one thing, and no one peering out between the gap in their curtains when we walked onto the jetty.

As we walked back up the main street we quite conveniently passed a small corner store that sold fresh fish and chips – we were running a bit low on supplies at this stage, so my siblings and me managed to convince our elders that some seafood would suit just fine. Half an hour later we were enjoying our fare back in the comfort of our little camper trailer (and yes, it was very good – just one of the advantages of sticking to the coast I suppose).

After we let our meal settle we decided to explore the area a little more widely – so we all jumped into the car and headed off to see what we could find. It wasn’t long before we found a place worth stopping at – a seemingly deserted holiday town called Tomahawk. We followed the signs to the picnic area – which we deemed not to exist after 15 minutes of fruitless searching – but instead found a narrow path that took us out to one of the widest beaches I have ever seen. Perhaps it was low tide, but either way this beach was so vast I could scarcely see the ocean at all.

Inspired to explore what lay beyond the horizon, we held our hats to our heads and set off. It must have been deceptive, as it didn’t take us that long at all to reach a distant island we had barely been able to see from the car. Dad waited at the bottom, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up for my siblings at me – we climbed the rocky outcrop until we reached the sheer drop into the ocean on the far side. It was absolutely breath – taking, but all good things must come to an end I’m sorry to say. Dad , standing at the bottom, waved us down, so we christened it ‘Hazeldine Isle’ after my Grandad, and started our descent.

On the way home we made one more stop off – to the Waterhouse Conservation Area, where we drove to the top of one of the hills. We could see for miles – even our little island to the south. The wind never let up, not once – but as we settle back into the trailer out of the wind, I don’t think any one of us would have changed it.