Back to the Tasmanian Coast

Words & Photographs by Liz Schaffer

It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with Tasmania. It may have been while exploring The Museum of Old And New Art (a mind-bending gallery carved into Hobart’s Triassic sandstone cliffs), hunting for convict ghosts at Port Arthur, embracing nature on Bruny Island, or drinking in the clove-like aroma of Huon pine by the mighty Franklin River. All I know is that it’s an island I adore, a wondrous and wild escape that was never far from my mind - despite the fact I hadn’t visited since I was a teenager. 

While I’d daydreamed about returning for a while, it was Rachel Claire’s guide to the Apple Isle in our Australia magazine - an ode to seafood, coastal trails and dreamy hideaways - that made me realise just how desperate I was to travel somewhere elemental, where nature dominated and walks were plentiful. So set about planning a long weekend on Tasmania’s East Coast. 

This is how I found myself breathing in the scent of smoke, tea tree and salt as I sat by the crackling outdoor fire pit at Whale Song Shack, watching as the sea spray diffused the late-afternoon light, making the scene before me seem as soft and velvety as the aroma. 

Ensconced in Falmouth, Whale Song was originally built in the 1980s by a local fisherman and is now a romantic, two-bedroom bolthole crafted from timber and stone. You’ll find an outdoor tub, open brick fireplace, private walkway leading to the wildflower festooned coast path, and a charming array of treasures - think minute canvases from Little Scapes (oceans and rivers painted onto salvaged wood), vintage glassware, seafaring paraphernalia, artworks from guests and friends (including contemporary painter Zoe Grey and ceramicist Kirsten Perry), and Good Side of the Bed’s natural, earth-hued tableware. 

Owners Ingrid and Clif Daniell were passionate about restoring the land to its natural state, and set about regenerating the indigenous flora. They preserved leucopogon and bower spinach, which grows wild by the water, and added endemic plants like correa, cushion bush, lomandra, isolepus and banksia. Thriving garden and light-bathed, art-filled interior aside, the most dreamy element here is the view - an endless sea or a canopy of stars, depending on the hour.

The journey to Whale Song was a delight in its own right. I followed the Great Eastern Drive north from Hobart, stopping for a beach ramble at Mayfield Bay, to toast the view at the Devil’s Corner Cellar Door, to photograph Kelvedon Beach’s iconic wooden boatshed, and, finally, in postcard-perfect Bicheno to stock up on freshly shucked oysters from The Lobster Shack. 

Falmouth itself is everything you want an Aussie beach town to be - a petite community seemingly caught in a 1960s time warp, and framed by aquamarine water, a white sand beach and farmland. I knew that tomorrow’s escapades would be just as magical, but for now, I was blissfully content at Whale Song, watching the sunset transform the sky into a melange of pastel, and convincing myself that the ebb and flow of seaweed was a particularly inquisitive seal. 

Ingrid felt a similar power when she first saw Whale Song. “It’s very hard to describe that feeling without sounding a bit trippy. I was overcome with a sense of knowing - that I’d experienced this place before in a dream,” she says. “It was absolutely love at first sight. The shack needed a lot of work but the site was one of profound beauty and incredibly special.”

Things remained serene the next morning as I stood beside Halls Falls, which I’d reached via a short descent through bushland, the air around me scented by blue gum and fern. I was struck by the lushness of it all - the vividness of the greens and the way the sunlight seemed to dance on the water. St Columba Falls were equally picturesque, and I rounded off my laid-back tramping efforts with lunch at the Pub in the Paddock and cheese from Pyengana Dairy. 

… 

Sometimes you know you’re going to relish a place long before you arrive. You’ve built it up in your mind, lusted over travellers’ photographs, and promised yourself it will be magical. And when you finally visit, nothing disappoints. This proved true with the Bay of Fires, a staggering 50-kilometre-long stretch of coastline revered for its crystalline waters and secluded beaches - and the next stop on my East Coast getaway. 

My base here was Bay of Fires Bush Retreat, where sandy feet are encouraged and you remember just how glorious glamping can be. Although the retreat is only a few minutes drive from the rock pools and white sand of Binalong Bay (also home to Meresta Eatery, ideal for seafood lovers), you immediately feel that here, you’re far from the madding crowd. 

Owners Anna Hoffmann and Tom Dicker visited the Bay of Fires as kids, and always felt connected, with Tom purchasing the Bush Retreat land 20 years ago. Utilising Anna’s background in environmental design, the couple went on to create a getaway with heart that allows visitors to experience the things Tom and Anna adore about travel: calmness, the chance to meet new people, and excellent food and wine. 

Waking from a snooze in my bell tent, cocooned by native vegetation, I discovered that Bush Retreat socialising takes place in the fully-equipped kitchen, which is made from local green hardwood and crowned by two outdoor fire pits. Swept up in the convivial atmosphere, everyone happily shared their life stories and travelling tips - Derby’s Floating Sauna was a popular recommendation. 

Bush Retreat is self-catering, but if cooking isn’t your forte, you can put together a platter using regional produces and tipples from their honesty bar, or tuck into a meal pre-prepared - the lamb ragu was perfection, finished with spinach gathered from the veggie garden.

I’d come to the Bay of Fires to watch a sunset from Cosy Corner, scramble over granite boulders cloaked in orange lichen, hike around St Helens Point and take a bracing dip at Sloop Lagoon - but one of the most joyous experiences was simply sitting by the Bush Retreat fire, moving, as the night progressed, from tea, to wine, to marshmallows. The sense of well-being grew as I listened to the patter of rain against my tent, wondering if there was a better sound in the world. With my odyssey drawing to a close, it was clear that I had entirely new reasons to love Tasmania - and wouldn’t be waiting decades to come back.

For more Aussie getaways, check out our Australia magazine.

Wine Country

Photo essay by Chiara Dalla Rosa.

I’ve always been interested in food and wine - and am particularly fascinated by the processes involved in making exceptional products. This curiosity was sparked while working in a restaurant in Italy, my home country, and a café in the UK, where I lived for few years; both experiences revealing just how important it is to choose the right ingredients, and to take time and care.

When I first visited Australia - having sampled their incredible wines and fresh foods - exploring the world famous vineries of South Australia was a top priority. I was keen to learn more about the region’s wine making processes and focus on sustainability … and to sample as many tipples as I could.

With more than 200 cellar doors on its doorstep, Adelaide is Australia’s wine capital and one of the nine Great Wine Capitals of the World. There are so many award-winning areas to explore should you fancy a wine-filled day trip, all outstanding in their own right (and desperate for tourism following the recent devastating bushfires). The focus of my own visit was McLaren Vale, which is a 40 minute drive from the city, the journey itself utterly divine.

My first stop brought me to Samuel’s Gorge. Housed in a 1853-built farm shed formerly used for oil making, their charming cellar door boasts stunning views of the Onkaparinga Gorge. Best surveyed from their terrace with a glass in hand.

Being in McLaren Vale, I couldn’t miss the opportunity to visit the d’Arenberg Cube, an eclectic fever-dream of a building in the middle of the d’Arenberg winery. Coming from the mind of winemaker Chester Osborn, this five-storey multi-function building blends its owner’s two loves: wine and art. Currently showcasing sculptures by Salvador Dalì and Osborn’s private collection of paintings & sculptures, the building’s rubik-cube styled shape makes it an artistic wonder in its own right - the view of the valley below from the top two balconies is a particular highlight. Walking through the building felt like a journey through the designer’s mind, and the 2018 chardonnay was a perfect accompaniment.  

My last stop was at Alpha Box & Dice winery. This farmhouse-styled shed boasts wines that transcend style, region and varietal boundaries, and are created using small parcel grapes, minimal intervention and vegan friendly methods. I felt a completely at ease here; everyone sipping wine under the sun, surrounded by picnic tables stacked with cheese boards. The perfect ending to my first day of McLaren Vale wine tasting.

Chiara Dalla Rosa is an Italian lifestyle photographer specialising in portraits and travel photography. She's passionate about telling stories of real people and unforgettable places. Chiara is a curious traveler, keen to experience every aspect of the country she visits. To see more of her work, click here.

Lord Howe Island

My childhood friend holidayed with her family on Lord Howe Island and returned with fantastic stories of misty mountains, beachside bungalows and trundling turtles, but the most audacious and daring story of all involved water take-offs and landings, seaplanes obviously incredibly adventurous to my 10-year-old self.

Since the runway was built, flights from the mainland now land on terra firma, but not much else had changed when I visited 40-odd years later to finally tick Lord Howe off my long-awaited bucket list - and it quickly became obvious that despite years of anticipation and childhood fantasy, my expectations would be surpassed. Even glimpsing the island, grey and shrouded in rain, was enough to make me gasp … well, that or the sudden drop as the pilot tackled the tricky winds that tend to howl around Howe.

With its mix of pioneering spirit, 60s Aussie seaside town and resort-style living, Lord Howe is the perfect place to experience quotidian serenity; a simpler way of life where even the lack of mobile reception is a welcome respite from the madding world. Everyone greets each other with a smile and wave (whether you know them or not), and friendships are quickly made. Even crime is non-existent, in fact you’re usually not given a room key, the biggest danger seemingly falling into mutton-bird holes, tripping over wood-hens or exceeding the 25km speed limit on pushbikes, the island’s main mode of transport.

But it’s the scenery and wildlife of Lord Howe that’s spectacular; an Arcadian nirvana only 10 kilometres long yet containing landscapes both Jurassic and genteel. Mts Lidgebird and Gower loom over bucolic pastures and well-fed cows, their summits usually covered with clouds that flow like vaporous waterfalls over their rainforest-cloaked sides where you can just imagine dragons lurk. It’s when you enter this realm though that the magic really begins and size takes on a whole new meaning. Here African violets grow as tall as trees, banyans splay tendrils like colossal spider’s legs and soaring tee-pee style pandanus roots encircle the moist earth and drop fronds that swallow the walking track. There is magic everywhere. Iridescent blue fish dart between legs as you feed them at Ned’s Beach, and plaintive calls come from nearby sooty tern chicks waiting for parents to return with a seafood bounty.

Fantastically shaped bleached corals sit on Old Gulch’s rocky shoreline while the azure waters of beaches and lagoons are filled with organisms full of colour that allow Lord Howe to claim having the southernmost coral in the world. And even off the coast the wonders continue, Balls Pyramid, the worlds tallest ‘ocean stack’, rises from the depths like a Hogwarts’ turret.

It’s no wonder Lord Howe is UNESCO-listed and ripe for discovery. Whether walking on tracks that demand a little vigour (or those that are more of an amble), snorkelling and scuba diving in tropical waters, playing bowls and golf, or merely taking in the magnificent scenery from an idyllic picnic spot, you’ll feel that this is island life as it should be. Nothing here disappoints.

Words & Photographs by Angela Terrell.

Paradise Found

When the winds stir up and clouds descend, it is an island that offers sanctuary - among other deep-sea and earthy delights.

Words & Photographs by Lucy Howard-Taylor

702 kilometres northeast of Sydney, at the intersection of five ocean currents and a submerged continental rib, thrusts forth the remains of an ancient shield volcano. Eroded over seven million years to one fortieth of its original size, Lord Howe Island rises like a wind-shorn jewel from the waters of the Tasman Sea; eleven kilometres long by as little as three hundred metres wide, a vibrant blue-green, its twin peaks capped in cloud. From the sky, the island almost looks like the mossed jawbone of some long-extinct creature given up by the sea.

It may be less than a two hour flight from the crush of Sydney, but the moment you step from the Dash-8 onto the tarmac of Lord Howe’s only airstrip, there is a palpable sense of remoteness. There is no mobile reception on the island and no traffic lights (with next to no cars, bicycles silently reign supreme), but the lack of modern conveniences one might mistake for essential cannot wholly account for the subtle separation felt upon arriving in this UNESCO World Heritage listed property. It is disarmingly beautiful, in an unruly, enveloping way that robs you of words. But there is a strangeness to this wilderness too, with its opalescent lagoon fringed with coral, its deep green canopies of kentia palms, cowrie-studded beaches and panoply of birds.

Travelling in the middle of winter to a subtropical island and the world’s southernmost coral reef may seem perverse, but Lord Howe wore its wild weather hat well. On the tarmac I was left breathless by a brisk wind that tasted of salt and wet leaves. In bed that first night, with large fronds bashing each other outside my window, the roar of the trade winds was almost animal. During the day rain rolled in with no warning and cleared just as suddenly, leaving everything glistening. A wind cheater was essential, and should you go out at night, a torch: there are no streetlights here and the inky completeness of the darkness, broken by a milky wash of stars, took this city dweller by surprise. First things first, hire a bike, even if like me you cannot ride one. With only 360 permanent residents, a maximum of 400 tourists at any one time and 13 kilometres of undulating scenic road, there is ample opportunity for a novice to practice unobserved. Pack a picnic and ride to the preternaturally still and secluded Old Settlement Beach, where three men, three women and two boys came to live in 1833, trading with passing vessels. Or pop over to Ned’s Beach where you can snorkel among fantastically coloured coral gardens (there is an honesty box for hiring gear), or wade closer to shore and hand-feed swarms of tropical fish with names like Silver Drummer and Spangled Emperor. At dusk, throngs of muttonbirds return to their burrows in the low-lying palm forests nearby. As sunset arrives, their distinctive, searching cries can approach an almost human wailing.

These pristine waters host some of the best diving in the world, with an unearthly sunken landscape of volcanic drop-offs, trenches and caves lined with black coral trees, branching gorgonians and over 90 varieties of luxuriant subtropical coral. For those for whom the prospect of coming face to face with the blue teeth of a Harlequin Tuskfish in an underwater canyon sounds vaguely terrifying, you can charter a glass-bottomed boat instead and enjoy the spectacle dry and unmolested from the crystalline surface of the lagoon.

At the southernmost end of Lagoon Road is the start of the Little Island Track, which follows the shoreline to the black basalt cliffs of Mount Lidgbird. Lord Howe is a walker’s delight and this marked and level track meanders its way past picturesque Lovers Bay and through thickly crowded valleys of soughing kentia palms (keep your eyes peeled and you might see a native woodhen grunting happily in the shadows), to the base of the mountain and its stony shores of calcarenite and dark sea-sculpted rocks. Here, especially between March and October, you will see wheeling clouds of one of the world’s rarest seabirds, Providence petrels, diving over the cliffs as they chatter and return to breed. For the more energetically inclined walker, a climb to the scrubby top of Malabar Hill leads to one of the best views of the island and a dramatic scraggy drop to the sea. Alternatively, sign up for the famous day hike to the summit of Mount Gower, where you will find yourself among the twisted trees and inveterate mist of what the New South Wales Office of Environment and Heritage actually designates as Gnarled Mossy Cloud Forest, which sounds more enchanted than ecological.

Enchantment is a recurring theme here. As the days pass, I discover that there is something about this island that is both calming and unexpectedly foreign, a wandering otherness that finds its way in on the throats of seabirds and endows plants with a luminous variety of green. The natural landscape is not only astonishingly lush - isolation, topographic peculiarity and igneous soils have spawned a paradise of ferns, palms, orchids and microhabitats - but feels unusually ancient, almost untouchable. Nowhere is this impression more powerful than in the broody Valley of the Shadows, where 20 metre high trees mottle the light. To stand alone amid this silent grove of banyans, their aerial roots muscling to the ground like the suspended legs of giants, is to realise the difference that is Lord Howe Island. It is to approach the primeval and be at home amongst the extraordinary.

From Lodestars Anthology Issue 3, Australia

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