It was dark when we arrived. The mad dash from bedroom to bedroom began so that the kids could lay claim to ‘their rooms’. Then, traipsing up the stairs to the second storey, we caught sight of the view.
It was spectacular.
Of course, at this point we could only see the twinkling lights of the city, but I made a resolution to wake up early the next morning to watch the sunrise.
Our hosts, when they realised the oven wouldn’t be fixed in time, had proposed a very favourable apology. Would we like them to shout us pizza? There was only one right answer. Yes, please! Arriving after dark and a long drive to a bountiful meal of delicious pizza – we were quite thankful that the oven had decided to stop working!
The younger three wasted no time in setting up the Wii and playing MarioKart after dinner, and Eli could hardly believe his luck in scoring his own queens-sized bed with an ensuite. Hudson was equally as enthusiastic about the foosball table in his room.
I probably should have checked the time of the sunrise before getting up at 5am. Although I usually rise at this time at home, I had been taking the chance to savour the sleep-ins over the trip. When the alarm went off, I snuck out to do my yoga and meditation routine and then commandeered the comfy chair by the window. It was a long wait. Dave joined me a little while later. After 7am the first signs of the telltale glow began to emerge and it was remarkable watching the view take shape in front of our eyes. It turned out that we were overlooking the city of Hobart, with the River Derwent threading through.
Dad went off for an early morning run through the misty streets, returning with breakfast treats from the local Salamanca Fresh store. We readied ourselves for a day of exploration, after a brief panic while looking down on our rental mini-bus and seeing that the roof had a big dent in it. Thankfully, when we compared our photos from the airport carpark, it was clear that the roof had come like that and we simply hadn’t been able to view the vehicle from above. It was a relief to discover this fact after more than a few puzzled guesses as to what on earth could have caused the damage (a rather large possum leaping down onto it from the house was our only real conclusion before realising it would have to be one kamikaze creature to even attempt the jump).
Before arriving in Tasmania, I had been enjoying the books of Sally Wise. Her journal-style recap of her first year of living in Molesworth, ‘A Year on the Farm’, had been my bedside companion for the past few weeks and I wondered aloud if we could go and visit the place I had been discovering on the page. From ‘A Kitchen in the Valley’ cookbook, I’d spied a little produce stall that lived just outside the farm gate and I was keen to purchase some of the jams and preserves I’d heard so much about.
The family was up for the challenge and the day was perfect for adventure. It took no time at all before we were out of the city and winding up narrow roads towards the farm. As the road turned to dirt, I had sudden misgivings. Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this. But the sense of intrigue was too strong and the others urged me to relax. The pulsing blue ball on the phone map inched closer to our destination, but then we stopped. There were no signs anywhere and it was looking increasingly unlikely that the bus would be able to turn around. ‘Ah well,’ I shrugged. ‘Looks like we won’t be able to find it.’ Dad wasn’t about to let us give up that easily and he convinced me to walk up the road a little to see if we could find the place. Still nothing.
As I was stepping back into the van, admitting defeat, Dad called out to me. ‘There’s a man here, he says this is the place!’ I felt a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. I had no intention of actually disturbing Robert and Sally in real life! Indeed, it was Robert, Sally’s husband, standing at the gate and I blathered on about how we’d come in search of the produce stall and how grateful I was to Sally for all her books. He explained that Covid had put an end to the stream of visitors, so they’d taken it down. Then he leant down to the kids and asked: ‘Have you ever cuddled a pig?’
Their eyes went wide and instantly excited, as he opened the gate to let us in. I couldn’t believe it! He took us into the Chalet where the Cooking School used to be held and offered us farm fresh apples to try. The preserved apples I’d seen photos of on Instagram the night before were sitting on the bench. It was incredibly surreal. Sally was busy on a phone conference (as she apologetically explained over an Instagram message later) but very kindly invited us back for a cuppa and cake on our next visit to Hobart.
We were introduced to the sheep, the geese and the very contented pig (Cilla) who made grunts of pure satisfaction as we looked on. Robert was so lovely with the kids, taking the time to let them feed apple cores to the sheep and explain the stories of the animals we met. I felt like pinching myself as I snapped photos of the stunning paradise that was even more beautiful than I had pictured. (When we got back home one of the first things I did was snatch the book off the coffee table and point to the glossy pictures of the places we’d been. The kids couldn’t quite believe it either.)
As we walked back up to the bus, I couldn’t help but shake my head at the way things had turned out. I knew would be treasuring this experience forever.
We drove towards New Norfolk to explore yet another lovely town and, of course, the op shops. My children have well and truly inherited my love of vintage treasure-hunting and would often name Vinnies as their favourite part of any stop. We scored more than a few finds, including yet another soft toy for Ivy, and some gloves to take back home as gifts in another local store.
Next stop was Hobart. The first place to explore was, of course, the site of the famous Salamanca markets, even though we knew it wasn’t running on a Tuesday. We paused for lunch (pies, of course) and then set about on foot to see what we could find.
Harvey was particularly excited by an elevator we found in a hidden courtyard, and we climbed a staircase that led to some quiet streets of the city. With a brief stop at Arthur Circus (a tiny playground and park), we upgraded to the bigger version at Battery Point.
Next, we stopped at the museum (which happened to be free entry). We wandered the exhibits and put together our very own chair sculptures, using pieces of recycled cardboard. The time flew by and before long the announcement that the place was closing for the day echoed over the loudspeakers. It was time for some icecream.
It was Happy Hour at the little ice-creamery down at the docks and we climbed aboard the boat to select our flavours. I chose an authentically Tasmanian pepperberry and leatherwood honey combination, while the kids settled on milkshakes. We savoured every bit.
The light was beginning to fade and we’d had a huge day exploring the surrounds of Hobart. Mum and I ducked into a supermarket to rustle up an antipasto-style dinner. It was hard to believe this was to be our final night in Tasmania.
We awoke to a thick mist below us, almost like a cloud had descended over the city. It was beautiful. Even though we were flying back to Melbourne that evening, we intended on using every minute we had left to explore all the towns we had missed on the way back to Launceston.
The first stop was Richmond. This would have to be one of my new favourite places. We stopped first for (emoji-themed) gingerbread and a walk down to the iconic bridge. Then it was straight to the sweets shop for some maths practice, as they each worked out how many lollies they could get for $2. We visited the toy shop and Dave, of course, stopped for coffee. Dad scored some of the famous vanilla slice at the bakery and got them to cut it up into small pieces so we could all enjoy it. The sun shone and we savoured every moment.
Oatlands was our next location, and we shivered over a lunch by the water (antipasto leftovers). The boys went for a stroll across the lake and we set off for the old mill, meeting again at the playground. The kids were keen to stretch their legs and we spent a long time there, soaking up the history and challenging each other to flying fox races.
Ross had been a favourite town of Mum and Dad’s last time they were down, when they stayed in the local caravan park. We took a tour of the Female Factory and some peeked into the church, then enjoyed a quite bite to eat from the bakery. The weather had darkened by this point and we dodged raindrops, but still enjoyed the experience.
We paused in Campbell Town, at the op shop, of course – picking up a few more treasures and chatting to the lovely ladies inside. It felt like we only had to drive a short distance before yet another magical place presented itself.
Along the way, we took turns requesting songs, with an eclectic mix of Christian rap, worship songs and old classics. Now, when I listen to some of the tunes we had on repeat, I’m instantly transported back to the beautiful countryside of Tasmania, with the interesting sculptures and freshly shorn sheep dotted throughout.
Launceston appeared before we knew it, and we settled on Vietnamese for dinner. The kids shared rolls and chips while we chose more authentic options (pho and curry). While we were eating, we received word that our flight had been delayed. ‘More time to enjoy ourselves’, we shrugged, and headed over to the cinemas a few doors down to challenge each other to arcade games.
When we got to the airport, the board kept updating with more delays, but we tried to relax into the wait. Dave splurged on some late night sweet potato and normal potato fries and the kids watched Bluey on his tablet. Eventually we boarded the plane, touching down in Melbourne after 11pm. The kids did really well on the whole, despite Harvey falling asleep just as we began our descent. He was very out of it and we had to carry him the entire (long) walk back to the main terminal, with Dave almost leaving his tablet behind on the plane in the whirlwind. Thankfully a nice passenger alerted him to the mistake.
We returned in high spirits, still joking and dancing near midnight as we took the bus back to our seemingly tiny car and squashed in to deliver Mum and Dad back home. There were votes for the best locations and characteristics of travellers on the way home, and much reminiscing of an amazing time away. It was, we felt, the best holiday we’d ever spent together.
It’s strange, in some ways, that the trip didn’t lead to an absolute answer of what our future holds. There were no flashing lights or floating arrows saying ‘move here’, but no big red stop signs either. We didn’t feel any immediate pull to move, nor any clear path that unfolded before us, but there was a sense that we were beginning a story that might lead us back one day. For now, we feel called to Melbourne and the life we have there, but Tasmania ignited something within us. A spark of adventure, an appreciation for the slow pace of life, a sense of marvel at God’s brilliance as unveiled in his creation and a deep knowledge that we are being guided by Someone who has our best interests at heart.
We don’t know what the future will hold, but for now, we are brimming with gratitude. For a life filled with promise, a family tightly knit together and for the wonderful sense of fun and lightness that a quality trip away brings.
Tasmania, we’re keeping an eye on you…
