March 23, 2010
Bay of Fires Lodge 
Tasmania, AU
Tuesday morning, the last day of the Bay of Fires Walk.
I'm sitting in this stunning and beautifully constructed lodge perched on a bluff above a cove on the Tasman Sea wondering for perhaps the 119th time over the past few weeks how in the world I got here. [The 'Thought Moment' goes sort of like this: 1) mind's a thousand miles away; 2) someone says something; 3) mind comes back; 4) make a reply; 5) in replying notice something…a tree, flower, bird, stone, boat, whatever…and 6) suddenly remember, oh, right! I'm on the other side of the planet, amidst surroundings I never expected to see nor knew existed and with people I've just met, but find myself liking a lot. Go figure!] It's not as if I've stayed at home my whole life, but this is different. Very different.
The Bay of Fires Walk was a thoroughgoing pleasure. Conducted and populated (except moi) by Australians it afforded me three nights and four days with some of this great country's wonderful people. They swallowed me whole. The group included: two single women, friends who seek interesting destinations worldwide; a semi-retired GP and his architect wife who's engaged in a national project to revitalize blighted Australian cities; and a young farmer who represents the 5th generation of his family working 25000 acres in Victoria. Then there were the guides. Joe is a Tassie native and terrific young man just out of university, who'll next head for India and points west for a year or so; and the beautiful Claire (actually an Englishwoman who has adopted Australia) who has a talent, one of many, for this kind of work. As was the case with the Backroads group, we jelled into a unit easily and quickly.
I met Julie and Arlene, the two women from Sydney, in the lobby of Peppers Seaport Hotel in Launceton Saturday morning. A bus picked us up at 7.20 and we drove about a half hour to the Quamby Estate, the former residence of a prominent Tasmanian family now owned by the company conducting the tour. Richard, the farmer from South Australia was with us, and we met Gary and Dimity, from Melbourne, at the estate itself where they'd lodged the previous night. Joe checked our gear, issued Gore-Tex jackets and backpacks and gave us boxed lunches for our trip to the trail head. Then he gave us what Backroads would call a 'Route Rap.' We would hike about 8KM that afternoon after a 3-4 hour drive to the coast. Our destination for the first overnight was a hut complex for a little quasi-camping. The following day we would hike along the beach to the actual Bay of Fires (named for the ceremonial fires set there by the aborigines). The entire day's hike would be about 14KM. We would break for lunch at a lighthouse on the easternmost point of Tasmania and then head for Bay of Fires Lodge for two nights.
The walking itself was relatively easy. We each carried packs weighing 25-30 pounds, but elevation change on this walk, about 95% of which was on the various beaches, was minimal.
Our first night was in the huts. There are a half dozen framed buildings with wood floors, bunks and sleeping bags, plus a larger dining facility and a quite sophisticated latrine building. All had been helicopter-ed in when the complex was built five or six years ago. Supplies for the season also arrive by helicopter at a cost, Joe said with a smile, of about 9 cents per rotor rotation.
Claire and Joe set about preparing dinner. It was abundantly clear that they both knew their way around a kitchen (surprisingly well equipped) Claire prepared a Thai dressing for pasta, and Joe grilled Tasmanian Salmon steaks that he'd carried in. Dinner was great and even had some good Tassie wine. Australians seem to know more about American politics than most Americans, and I again vowed never to return without brushing up on domestic affairs. We had a lively and interesting dinner table conversation, thankfully not all about Yanks and Mr. Obama's health care legislation.
After breakfast Sunday morning, we set out on the 'main event,' the long walk to the Lodge. We'd had some rain overnight, and we began our trek in weather that was clearly changeable. It began to rain shortly after we started, and for a while it looked like we were going to be in it all day. Thankfully, that didn't happen. We saw breaks in the clouds about 11.30 and by the time we were ready for lunch it had cleared completely.
Saturday, as we started, we'd all seen a lighthouse that Claire and Joe told us was our objective for Sunday's lunch. It had looked then like it was just around the bend, you know? Not a chance. We didn't get there until about 1pm the second day.
We'd just thrown down our gear in the rocks at the base of the lighthouse when I noticed a couple coming onto the beach about a quarter of a mile away…a lonely stretch of dirt road ended there. As I watched, they both shed their clothes and headed for the surf. He was in front and had gotten into the water about the time she looked up the beach and saw me standing there. She moved pretty quickly from that point on! Back to the pile of clothing and into her 'bathers.' I'm afraid we spoiled their day…they didn't stay much longer. Too bad. We certainly didn't care, but it reminded me that it's pretty hard to assure yourself of privacy, even as far away from things as we all thought we were.
We took a quick tour of the lighthouse, had our lunch and then set out again along the Bay of Fires. We arrived at Bay of Fires Lodge a little before 5 and were greeted with afternoon tea and cakes by Beth, another guide who was managing this beautiful and isolated place.
Yesterday four of the six of us spent half the day doing some kayaking on a nearby river. It was a picturesque and welcome change to the shore walks, and introduced me to the pleasures of a kayak. Richard teamed up with Arlene, and I with Julie. We spent a couple of hours on the river, had a picnic lunch and then walked about 3Km back to the Lodge. We had another great dinner and more good conversation. I offered a toast to not only a great country, but to all who had made my experiences here so memorable. Each one of these companions brought something new into my life and I'm a richer man for it.
The Lodge is certainly worth mentioning. It was constructed about 10 years ago and is the only structure for miles. It's very green. All water is rain water captured in a cistern. When you're out, you're out. There is running water and showers, but guests manually pump water from the cistern into an overhead tank for gravity fed water pressure. Toilets are composting units. Organic waste is composted and all other materials are set aside for carrying out and/or recycling. A generator supplies limited power (I didn't notice any solar panels, but that's not to say they don't exist), and cooking is done with propane. There is no heat save that generated by a fireplace in the main room, and I was grateful for the cold weather gear that had been required equipment. Many supplies and materials come in by helicopter, but there is road access to a point a few hundred meters from the building itself.
Loading up for the ride to the trail head:
Some of the native inhabitants as seen through the bus's windows:
Clair points out Tasmanian Devil tracks:
...and points out some Tasmanian Devil tracks. Later, she showed us the way Aborigines carried fire:
Very comfortable digs all in all. 
The skies cleared around noon just about the time we were arriving at the Bay of Fires beach: 
After a long and pretty walk along the BOF, we reached Bailey's Rock (Claire called it Turtle Rock...it works for me)+Rock.jpg)
Then we have Dimity and Gary from Melbourne
(Gary here shown with Joe)
(Gary here shown with Joe)
and moi: 
and moi: 
This is a detail of the Lodge from the picture above. 
Sunrise from the deck...and a reflection: 
. Matt and Mark. 
