The Rivers Run

The Derwent River snakes across western Tasmania from the snow-capped peaks of Lake St Claire National Park, and I drove upstream through the fertile towns along its banks. This route is dubbed the Rivers Run by the travel brochures - not without reason.

Although a state highway, the road is mostly a two lane road and extremely quiet - I could hear the gentle flow of water in the river alongside almost all along. This road trip created a sense of gentle pace, of stillness and of a world without deadlines for a city-dweller like me. Tasmania is an escape into eternity, and this is just the beginning.

Tiny sand beaches line the walk - they seem like postcards from a Robinson Crusoe adventure. Dusk is the best time to view the platypus, and I wait patiently by the designated viewing spot. Tasmania teaches you to wait, quietly. The view over the lake is so breathtaking that I almost forget I still have to tick the platypus off our agenda. And then I realise that I need to drop that ‘to-do list’. I spend a few more minutes in quiet contemplation, taking in the real beauty of the place. In the end, I did not find the platypus, but I did find myself.

However, this does not mean that Tassie will disappoint - it is rather that surprise gem you find when you least expect it. On the walk back, I encounter the friendliest wallabies, half a dozen of them, gently grazing away. No brochure had told me

Approaching the mining town of Queenstown, the trees disappear suddenly. The hillsides of Mt Lyell have seen the upheaval of a mining frenzy, leaving this town looking like a bare, dramatic lunar landscape. Although the original open cut copper mine is long gone, underground mining continues till date, with the ore being exported to India. You can journey underground in a mine tour to see its thunderous crusher reduce gigantic rocks to football size in seconds.

Apparently, residents are quite protective of this landscape and don’t want the trees to grow back. However, environmentalists who are looked upon with disdain at Queenstown, are heroes just a few miles west.

The Green movement successfully campaigned against flooding the wild Franklin River for a hydro-electric scheme. The West Coast Wilderness Railway traverses this pristine wilderness between Queenstown and Strahan. River cruises and sea planes from Strahan take you into the further reaches of this Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. Strahan’s harbourside is pretty, but quite commercialized, and after a quick bite, I escape to the one-hour walk though rainforest into Hogarth Falls.

Near Strahan is the impressive 33-km stretch of Ocean Beach. Just behind the beach, the sand stretches into the 30-metre high Henty Dunes. I climbed up one of these dunes for some spectacular views and came tumbling, rollicking down. You can also rent sand boards at Strahan, or take a quad bike ride through these beauties.

At Dove Lake, the circuit around the lake takes you beneath the towering spires of Cradle Mountain. As you walk walked around the lake, with the shifting perspective, the mountain peak seemed to transform.

However, in Tasmania, you can’t really stick to plans - and this time the rain clouds took over. The craggy peaks disappeared, and the rain pelted down. I hurried indoors for a warm bite, and curled up by the crackling fire for some time to reflect on this holiday. I know I have to return here - not to tick those remaining boxes, but to journey further. There is no itinerary of highlights that you can tick off; only soothing moments for soul searching. There are no souvenirs to buy; only moments to cherish. Tasmania is not the holiday of instant gratificationbut rather a journey into yourself.

SKLPS Simba from Kenya warm up before their match