A few weeks ago, I was meeting up with a new friend from church, and during our conversation it came out that both of us really wanted to visit Tasmania. Bam! In an instant, we had decided that off to Tazzy we were about to go! All a little bit last minute, I know, but we didn’t have tons of time since I had recently set my return to California for the end of July. So airplane tickets reserved and campervan booked, and we were ready for our little adventure.
Those four very full days were not nearly enough to see everything we wanted to see and really soak in every inch of stunning scenery. As it was, we had just enough time to get in a good hike each day in a new location before the sun went down and we snuggled into our sleeping bags in the back of our awesome camper.
|Sweet ride, eh?|
Still, short as our time was way down there in chilly winter-time Tasmania, each moment seemed packed full of experiences and memories. Making food in the back of the van, hiking, pictures, monkeys in Launceston’s City Park, chai lattes by a fire, impromptu stops for random things, a wild wallaby, sea shells, crashing waves, driving on the left side of the road… So many things, so many reasons to smile!
Probably my favorite moment of each of these days though, was the morning. That quiet moment when the day stretched out before us with exciting promise. Each morning was different – our first, friendly strollers informed us we had parked next to the town horse stables (haha); our second, it was almost raining; and our third, we were looking out over the waters of Muirs Beach – and yet they stand as a whole in my mind.
I think it must have been the complete peace and rest I felt each morning after our sleeping bags were stowed and our van tidied for the day, when we cradled steaming cups of cocoa in our hands and peered out from below the open hatch as the sun rose below the ever-present clouds. When the dampened world softly emerged from the shadows. When the birds began to twitter in the bushes and the kookaburras greeted the coming dawn from their gum tree roosts with growing choruses of cackling laughter.
In fact, if I ever get the chance to go back to Tasmania again, I do believe that I will have to get up early every morning, just to experience those moments once more.