Author's product rating: 
| Advantages: |
amazing unspoilt natural scenery |
| Disadvantages: |
a long way away and not easily accessible |
| Recommend to potential buyers: |
yes |
How often have you seen a picture of a place and thought "I'd love to go there?" How often have you actually acted on that wish? And out of that many times, how many times has the picture paled into insignificance alongside the actual experience? This, for me, was one such place. I saw the picture in October 2006, on the cover of Lonely Planet Tasmania. By late November, I was there.
The island of Tasmania is a short hop by plane from mainland Australia. And halfway along the east coast of Tasmania, about three hours' drive from either of the main towns of Hobart or Launceston, is the Freycinet Peninsula, one of several national parks in Tasmania. Driving up from the south, I had a wonderfully dramatic view over the bay of pink-grey mountains that rise up straight out of the sea.
Like most of Tasmania, Freycinet is a paradise for those who love the outdoors, and is known for bushwalking and sea kayaking in particular. It is truly beautiful: the sea is turquoise, the beaches are fine white sand, the forests are vibrant green. What makes Freycinet unmissable, however, is Wineglass Bay, one of Tasmania's most famous and recognisable landmarks (even so not one many people have heard of - I certainly hadn't, before I started looking at
Australia as a travel destination) - a perfect crescent of sand ringed by mountains. It's one of the best views I have ever had in my life.
Tasmania is about the same size as Ireland and has a population of under half a million. Freycinet was one of the busiest places I visited - there was probably about a hundred cars in the car park (midweek at the end of the shoulder season) as well as a number of scavenging wallabies - a shock after having most places I'd been almost to myself. But even here it was easy to find some peace and tranquillity, because the road only extends a short way down the peninsula. In order to even catch a glimpse of Wineglass Bay, you need to go on a steep trek up the mountainside. This is clearly stated in all the guidebooks and leaflets I read, yet there were quite a few people at the Visitor Centre unable to grasp that there was no view of Wineglass Bay that was accessible by car. If you are unable to cope with the walk, however, there are boat trips into the bay and also it is possible to take a short flight over the peninsula. I saw these advertised in many places.
The range of mountains is known as The Hazards, and while the climb up to the Wineglass Bay Lookout is fairly steep, it's not all that difficult. I am horribly unhealthy and have problems with my hips so I had to take my time, but I made it up to the lookout in around 45 minutes. (The guidelines suggest it should take 30-45 minutes) It was a bit of a struggle - there are over 650 "steps" which are roughly cut out of the rock and there's plenty of walking in-between the steps - but not the hardest walk I've ever done. There's a surprising lack of shade for so many trees, so something to cover your head, sun cream and plenty of water is an absolute must.
When I finally reached the lookout point for Wineglass Bay, however, the view was so stupendous that I forgot all about my aching legs! (See photos.) Even with about twenty other people up at the same point, it felt like something of a personal discovery - mainly because there didn't seem to be anyone actually down at the beach, and the horseshoe-shaped bay was completely empty except for one tiny boat. Peaceful as the scene looked, I read later that the 'wineglass' doesn't refer to the shape of the bay, but rather the colour that the water was when nineteenth-century whalers used the bay as a place to carve up their catch. There's no trace of that now, thank goodness!
Although the climb up to the lookout was fairly steep, and did take a while, I wasn't stopping there. With such a beautiful beach down below me, I was not turning back! It surprised me how many people did; the vast majority climbed up, took a few pictures, and went back to the car park. I, however, was not going to stop until I had stuck my feet in the water, so down I went. I met all of two people on the trail, which slowly turned from rock to earth to sand, and when I got down onto the beach, I found just eight other people there as well as a lot of seagulls and plovers. After about ten minutes, I had the beach entirely to myself (birds don't count).
It wasn't perfect beach weather - there was too much wind, so staying with my feet in the water just below the tide mark minimised sand getting blown in my eyes - but there's something to be said for being all alone on a long strip of white sandy beach with not a single sign or sound of humanity (even if I did know that there were several people taking photos up above, not so far away). It's at times like these when you realise how noisy nature really is - the sea was deafening and the birds were screeching to make themselves heard above it. I had the very odd feeling of being entirely pasted on to the landscape - I'm a city girl through and through - but at the same time, I felt so incredibly whole. Difficult to describe. Having now read a few books about Tasmania, it seems that a feeling of connection to the land is a common theme for both visitors and residents. I certainly felt it, standing there.
It took me over an hour and a half to get back to the car and "civilisation", but that was mostly because I found some brightly coloured beetles, had a shock meeting with a parakeet, and slipped and fell twice I was so exhausted. Then I got back to the car and had to fight off a wallaby.
If I could go back tomorrow, I would.
*
Now for some more practical stuff. I'm going to assume you've already made it to Tasmania - flights from mainland Australia are cheap - I paid £25 out from Melbourne and £20 back. There's an overnight ferry from Melbourne also, but it costs about four times as much. Cheaper to fly and offset the carbon costs!
Park entry fees apply, either $10 if you come in on foot or $20 for a car for one day/$50 for eight weeks. (1 Australian Dollar=£2.4ish) The rates apply to all the national parks in Tasmania. All walkers need to sign in with their route and the time they expect to return. However, no search parties will be sent out unless you are reported missing to the centre, so let someone know where you're going. I was there on a late November afternoon with what seems on the photos to be perfect weather - bright hot sun and clear blue sky - but the wind was quite strong and it felt as if the weather could change at any moment.
The closest place to stay is the village of Coles Bay, which looks over Great Oyster Bay, and like most other villages all along Tasmania's east coast seems to consist mainly of B&Bs. 30-45 minute drives away in different directions are the small towns of Swansea and Bicheno, which also have plenty of accommodation options. Bicheno has the added attraction of colonies of little blue penguins that come waddling up the beach at dusk.
In order to get to Freycinet - around around Tassie in general - you really need a car. I rarely drive but I was glad I hired the car here as I could stop whenever and wherever I wished - and there was another stunning view round every corner. The roads are mostly empty, apart from night-time when all the local wildlife comes out - I avoided driving any time after 6.30pm, I was so worried about hitting something - roadkill was an upsettingly common sight. Public transport consists of a handful of buses and you can get to Coles Bay that way, but careful planning is required as they don't run every day. There are plenty of touring holidays, from backpacker up to luxury, one-day to one-week tours - bushwalking tours seem to be popular (there are many four-day walking tours in Freycinet National Park, for example) - and there aren't many tours of Tassie that would not include Wineglass Bay.
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