"You guys are so lucky to be able to do this any time you want."
$1/
(min cost $8)
Login or signup to continue reading
Reluctant as I am to tell a Victorian she's right, she was right.
We were sharing a table at Pine Valley Hut, exchanging stories of bushwalking bravado while preparing our delicious dehydrated dinners.
Also present were a roving Frenchman who said his last residence was in Adelaide but appeared to be existing almost exclusively in the Tasmanian bush; two Dutch women effortlessly switching between their native language and English with an Aussie twang; a lone Swedish adventurer and an English couple making the rare comparison between the Overland Track and the South Downs Way.
On the way there we had also passed an Indian family-of-three who did not stop smiling and saying "hello" and an American couple who couldn't have been more delighted to tell us there was an echidna 10 minutes up the track.
In addition to these international invitees were a "sunshine" of Queenslanders and an "education" of Victorians, to borrow licence plate slogans for convenient collective nouns.
Which all begged the obvious question: where were the Tasmanians?
Clearly the message about our state's beauty is spreading across Bass Strait and considerably further afield but strangely not so much on this side of our cherished moat.
There is only so much conversation about the best place to get a soy latte in Melbourne a human being can take.
Or listening to Gold Coasters debate over a drawn-out late lunch whether or not to "knock off" The Acropolis before supper (which, to be fair, they promptly did).
In two nights at this delightful, and free (with a Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife pass), wilderness retreat, we encountered at least half a dozen different nationalities and an endless stream of mainlanders, but no fellow Tasmanians.
Situated off the southern end of the Overland Track, Pine Valley Hut is the gateway to The Labyrinth - one of the most spectacular places on our planet. A maze of rocky outcrops and picturesque tarns liberally sprinkled with photogenic flora like pencil pines and pandanis surrounded by magnificent towering peaks dominated by the shark-tooth ridges of Mount Geryon.
There is only so much conversation about the best place to get a soy latte in Melbourne a human being can take
Tasmanians should be flocking to the place, not leaving it to soy latte-loving Melburnians (no offence ... well not much).
This experience was by no means unique. In recent years it has been a similar story on such iconic Tasmanian hikes as Frenchmans Cap, Mount Jerusalem and the Western Arthurs.
Furthermore, the gigantic new car parks at the entrances to the Walls of Jerusalem and Cradle Mountain - Lake St Clair national parks are invariably full of interstate plates and hire cars.
Tasmanians do visit these places, it's just that they are disproportionately outnumbered. They are also masters at keeping quiet about it.
Which is odd because Tasmanians are proud and passionate people. Witness the support for the state's inclusion into the NBL and the sense of injustice at its lengthy exclusion from the AFL.
See also the dogged ownership of ex-pat Tasmanian global achievers/ambassadors from the queen of middle-distance swimming Ariarne Titmus to the Queen of Denmark Mary Donaldson.
Jack Riewoldt said as much while spruiking the state's overdue arrival into the "Australian" Football League recently. Among a select group of triple premiership winners from this state in the nation's most popular sport, the Richmond great said Tasmanians were quick to embrace something they can claim as their own, citing the JackJumpers and similar examples like the Sydney-to-Hobart yacht race, Richie Porte in the Tour de France and even MONA.
"As soon as something comes from our patch, people show a sense of belonging and imagine how that will stretch out to an AFL team," he said.
Like the Victorian at our remote dinner table, Riewoldt was right.
And yet the most obvious asset Tasmanians should be supporting they seem to be taking for granted.
For every Tasmanian who stays at Pine Valley Hut, stands atop Frenchmans Cap or watches the dawn sun hit the West Wall between King Davids Peak and Solomons Throne, several dozen non-Tasmanians have beaten them to it.
I'm not advocating banning non-Tasmanians from sharing our beautiful state. On the contrary, we welcome them, and their money.
I'm also not suggesting every Tasmanian immediately head off to such remote spots as those described above or pictured here - that would place undue strain on a rescue helicopter traditionally reserved for all those Victorians and Queenslanders.
But I am saying more Tasmanians should be enjoying their own wilderness. Just because it's called a World Heritage Area doesn't mean it's not ours too.
Heralding the impact of Tasmanian sport without saying "punching above its weight" is not as easy as it sounds.
Heralding the impact of Tasmanian sport without saying "punching above its weight" is not as easy as it sounds.
Pining for some Tasmanian company to share our magnificent wilderness
7
35
05.02.2024
"You guys are so lucky to be able to do this any time you want."
$1/
(min cost $8)
Login or signup to continue reading
Reluctant as I am to tell a Victorian she's right, she was right.
We were sharing a table at Pine Valley Hut, exchanging stories of bushwalking bravado while preparing our delicious dehydrated dinners.
Also present were a roving Frenchman who said his last residence was in Adelaide but appeared to be existing almost exclusively in the Tasmanian bush; two Dutch women effortlessly switching between their native language and English with an Aussie twang; a lone Swedish adventurer and an English couple making the rare comparison between the Overland Track and the South Downs Way.
On the way there we had also passed an Indian family-of-three who did not stop smiling and saying "hello" and an American couple who couldn't have been more delighted to tell us there was an echidna 10 minutes up the track.
In addition to these international invitees were a "sunshine" of Queenslanders and an "education" of Victorians, to borrow licence plate slogans for convenient collective nouns.
Which all begged the obvious question: where were the Tasmanians?
Clearly the message about our state's beauty is spreading across Bass Strait and........
© The Examiner
visit website
login
who are we?
contact us
qosheapp
Toi Staff
Gideon Levy
Belen Fernandez
Andrew Mitrovica
Mort Laitner
Rami G Khouri
Nikkei Editorial
Ali Fathollah-Nejad
