Have you ever locked eyes on a place from above and just known that your feet would love the ground below?
That was what Tasmania was for me.
It was a short flight from Melbourne across the pond to this magnificent, quiet place where hills roll, mountains stand tall and the ocean sweeps the shore line with crystal blue waves alongside fire red rocks. My feet loved it from the moment they stepped off of the stairs from the plane.
If I rewind to how I got there, I’d like to tell you about some of the greatest people I know. From getting pushed into a tall, handsome, green-eyed ginger Tasmanian at the GLC bar in Whistler over a year ago, to visiting the place he called home for over 20 years, I feel privileged to now be part of such and active, adventurous tribe.
He was the main reason I had decided to take the trip to Australia in the first place and when the opportunity arose to go down to Tasmania with him near the end of my Australian extravaganza, I jumped at the opportunity to visit the place that some of my favourite Whistler friends called home in their formative years. I had met some seriously awesome Tassie boys in Whistler throughout the past year – the type of human with a craving for nature, adrenaline and adventure. People who love to see and do something new, or maybe the same, because they’ve learned the fine art of mastering an activity to the point of it becoming an epic ritual. My friends from Tassie are genuine, hilarious, and full of life.
If there’s one thing that resonated so strongly in my soul from my time in Tasmania, it’s the pace of life. The long rolling landscapes were a physical representation of how people move through their day. Gradually and with enjoyment. People seemed to not be in a huge hurry, enjoying their day to day activities, which there were certainly no shortage of.
I love the quiet. As loud as I can be, there’s something so lovely about the stillness. Perched up on a mountain top, beside the sunrise and rolling waves of the East Coast, or face down snorkeling through Sleepy Bay watching the ocean move beneath me, I’m refreshed by the calm of nature.
People are awesome, and I’m great with big groups, but there’s a part of me that thrives in the simple silence of nature. I crave a big party with a good vibe and great people, but I’m renewed by the solitude and quiet of being in peace.
I think that’s the thing I love about the people I’ve met from Tassie. They seem to carry that similarity. They can definitely party, this is not in question, but their love and ability to do wilderness things is next to none.
My handsome Tasmanian pushed me into surf-able waves in crystal blue water and I came tumbling off of as they broke. He would get up and carve them with ease and style, and I had no other option but to gush at his natural ability to play on the waves like he owned them.
Walking around towns barefoot and without a care in the world, paying way too much for delicious coffees and staring off into the blue bay of Bicheno, I found myself dreaming of the life that I truly want. Being there gave me the freedom to dream about the things that are important to me in creating a future that I’d love to be part of.
From touring through the winding hills inland, and cruising down the East Coast in a camper van, to seeing the farm he was raised on and meeting the lovely people that created this legend of a boy, I often felt like I needed someone to pinch me to check if it was real life. I had the ultimate tour guide, and while my time was WAY too short… I only wanted more. I went into Tassie knowing my feet would love the land below, but I just couldn’t have imagined how much. An island that many don’t think too hard about, (and that’s probably a good thing!) stole my heart with just a few days of adventure. If there’s one thing I’m sure of – I’ll be back.
Tasmania is a playground, and I can’t wait for recess.