The next morning we are up at the crack of dawn for what we've planned to be a major hiking expedition. We drive down the coast about 25 miles to the Freycinet National Park, a huge peninsula of virgin forest mountains and beaches that is only reachable by foot (or boat). It is refreshing to see how carefully Tasmania maintains its incredible heritage of land that has not been developed, built on, logged or otherwise spoiled by "civilisation". Something like 1/3 of the state of Tasmania is set aside as parks and natural reserves, although there seems to be a constant battle with the logging companies. We have seen evidence on this trip of the sentiment currently building up against the prospect of a giant pulp and paper mill being proposed on the Tamar River.

We stop at the Freycinet Park's visitors' centre to buy our passes and get a route map for our planned hike. We are going to hike up a mountain to a lookout platform from where you can view the whole of Wineglass Bay, one of the most famous beaches anywhere, and as picturesque as it gets. (This route, up and back, is rated moderate.) Then we plan to hike down the other side of the mountain to the bay itself (a much more difficult journey down and back to the lookout), and eat our picnic lunch on the beach. As described, the hike up to the lookout wasn't bad, and the view was as stunning as I had expected it to be. The sand is very white, the water is a brilliant turquoise, and the beach curves in what looks like a perfect arc (hence the name). Downhill to the bay was, by contrast, very steep, and instead of carefully maintained steps there were uneven lumps of rock to follow downward. (As we climbed down, we noted a distinct tendency to huffing and puffing on the part of everyone who passed us heading back up the mountain.) But we consider ourselves to be in good enough shape to get there and back, and indeed the downhill bit was accomplished without too much trouble.

Arriving on the beach, we have no worries about being lonely. Lots and lots of company, it might as well have been the middle of the summer, with families bringing their kids, buckets and spades, and teenagers larking around in the (very cold) water.How some of the small children managed to get down that hill, I can't imagine. We noticed that most people were actually sitting in the shade, as the sun was very bright and it was quite warm on the sand. We found an unoccupied rock to sit on and eat our sandwiches, Robin tested the water, I kept my feet dry. So we weren't going to experience Wineglass Bay all on our own, with no footprints in sight, as you see it in the tourist brochures. Still, it was a gloriously beautiful place to see.

We discovered, on arriving at the bay, that we could choose to take a much longer, but presumably less steep route back, which would also encompass another beach and some rainforest walking. So we decided not to retrace our steps back up the steep trail we had just descended, and took the alternate route. We first crossed the narrow neck of the peninsula from Wineglass to the other side, where we found Hazards Beach, a good couple of kilometres long. Thankfully, this beach was completely deserted. We emerged from the forest onto the beach about halfway along, and walked up along the shore to pick up the trail leading back through the forest and to where we started (estimated at 3 hours' walking). The beach walk was great fun and I picked up some beautiful scallop shells for my collection (the one type of shell I couldn't find whole on Shelley Point). Heading back into the forest, we walked up and down hill for another hour or so, much of the time just inland from the shore, so we constantly caught glimpses of the water through the greenery. And then, about 15 minutes from the end of the hike, I spied a wallaby (we found later that it was a Bennett's Wallaby) about 10 feet ahead of us, just on the edge of the path. I caught Robin's sleeve and we both stopped to watch. The wallaby is essentially a miniature kangaroo. This one was about 2 feet high, and was standing on its hind legs, looking around and listening, perhaps. He poked around on the ground around him, and then bounded off, launching off his hind legs as they do. I was quite chuffed at spotting it in time to have a chance of watching (and photographing) it. Then into the car—it felt so good to sit…Back to the cottage at Bicheno for an easy to cook pasta and salad dinner, well earned, then early to bed.