An Unlikely Ambassador

My wife planned a trip for the both of us to get away together during the first week of February 2010. Aware that I had just moved away from winter in my home country, and that I would certainly be missing family, friends, and some sort of normalcy, she quite rightly understood that a week away with her during the Tasmanian summer would be like an oasis for me.  Owing to the fact that a friend of ours spoke well of the place and since we could get a deal through her Mum's employment and we were able to book a weeks accommodation without leaking away too much of our financial reserves. The plan, as it existed when we left Launceston for the 180km drive was to relax, spend some time together without any distractions.


We left on a Sunday and traveled at a rocketing 110km/h with the windows open and were kept from overheating.  We had a GPS, a weeks worth of food, no hard and fast plans, and we couldn't be happier.  The drive was one I haven't done before. I have been all over Tasmania, but never north of Launceston. I've been east, and south, so heading on a rhumbline north was somewhat of a treat, and the first time you could remotely say that I was heading home. At the town of Devonport we tracked west and followed the sea to Sisters Beach. You smell the ocean before you see it and we were treated to the hazy blue horizon and the smell of salty air as we moved west.  I imagined we were on the Pacific Coast highway headed south, something I have never done, but could now imagine.  The ocean drives on the east coast of the USA are not this sparsely populated. Most of the places we pass through are towns, with a few blocks that would be considered busy.  Soon we are passing vineyards, and several poppy fields before we break off the main highway and turn down the narrow switchbacks that end at Sisters Beach.  The name comes from the group of mountains called "sisters". The town itself was settled by an ambitious family in the 30's, and a national park was declared in the 60's to keep the area from being over-developed.


Sisters Beach only has a few streets and we aren't far from the center of town when we arrive at our rental house.  It is straight out of the 70's and it is glorious.  We open the door to the place, and it is right out of a yellowed photography from my parents photo album, down to the silverware.  Wood paneling, brick walls, and sparse furniture.  After we unpack I get this feeling that this must have been what my parents felt like when they went away together, before they had us.  In that moment I can see in the timeline of our lives exactly where we are situated.  Logistically we quickly realize that we have no phone line, no internet connection, and no cellphone signal.  Even our parents probably had more when they went on vacation.  As you might expect, the reality of being unplugged is really a bit of a relief.  No email, no browsing the internet, and no making phone calls.  I've been in Tasmania for just over two weeks and real isolation has been achieved.  For me the lack of distractions proved be be quite useful, as i sunk my teeth into Dave Allen's book "How to get things done", which is exactly what I needed to read at this point in my career. For Lucy, it was an excuse to pore over a stack of magazines and plow through several books she had in her queue.  I can't believe how fast she reads. 

We head right to the ocean after we have unpacked.  Walking from our place to beach I am aware of the smell of sunscreen, and the feel of flip flops on the dirt path, and the bugs flying around, but they aren't serious, not like the Maine woods. Near the beach is a public area with several campervans housing a small number of travelers. They cook dinner in small groups enjoying the heat of the end of this day. The beach itself is wide, and as usual in Tasmania, practically empty.  There are several patches of sharp sable colored rocks exposed out of the beach sand.   The ocean is cold, and is dotted with glistening jellyfish along with shells and strange foreign things I'm still not used to seeing. which are more tropical in nature  We walk along for an hour or so, running in and out of the sea and laughing like kids.

We make ourselves busy with relaxing over the next few days.  Our goal of detoxifying is put into place and we find ourselves jogging along a dirt track in the brush set up from the beach a bit.  Running later in the evening when the heat has subsided is our method, and as the sun goes down I catch a wallaby out of the corner of my eye bounding along side us before disappearing behind some large scrub.  It is profoundly gorgeous out here, with just us. At night we fall asleep to the sounds of the wave's crashing just a few hundred yards off, and the fierce wind howls now and again and we feel safe and snug.

As we become accustomed to our surroundings we realize how many for sale signs are around. Sisters Beach, like a lot of coastal Tasmania, is up for sale.  It has yet to be subdivided, or crammed with vacationers and rental properties.  You can walk along the ocean and see small beach shacks that were built 50 or more years ago.  It is poised to grow, and there are reminders everywhere.. and for me I can't help but think that when I look back at this trip I will need to remember that I visited Sister Beach during a snapshot of its development. Like this point in my life, Sisters Beach is in the middle of changing and will never be the same for me as it is now.