To say I am a dedicated four-wheel driver would have to be an understatement. There are not too many off-road tracks in this country that I haven’t explored – and with 20 Simpson Desert crossings under my belt, the thought of walking rather than driving actually frightens me. However, all of that was about to change. I have known of the area in Tasmania called the Bay of Fires for some time; I had even visited its fringes on a couple of occasions during some hot laps of the Apple Isle. But of late, some close acquaintances had dropped the hint that the Bay of Fires was one of the most beautiful locations they had visited during their round Australia trip … pretty high praise by any standard. On top of this, the Bay of Fires always seems to feature in those lists of the top ten places to see in the world. So I just had to add it to my bucket list.
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Initially I studied local maps of the area, which stretches along the north-east coastline of Tasmania from St Helens to the far reaches of the Mt William National Park near the oddly-named Stumpys Bay. Looking at the map there were a few access points out to the coast – one at Stumpys Bay where there is camping for four-wheel drive based campers, another at Eddystone Lighthouse near Ansons Bay (again with camping near Deep Creek), and at the southern end via a sealed road from St Helens. But in between each of these points there is endless coastline that can only be explored on foot. There is no 4X4 access to the beach (apart from a couple of boat ramps purely for the purpose of launching a tinny).
I then came to a very much out-of-character decision and decided the best way to explore the Bay of Fires would be to ditch the LandCruiser for a few days, and put a pack on my back and do some walking. Thank goodness I came to my senses and discovered a commercial group known as ‘Life’s an Adventure’ (love that name!) who would not only guide me down the coastline, but would carry my heavy pack too! A winner for me. I still had to walk approximately 15 kilometres per day, along a soft sand beach. I’m not sure if you have ever walked some distance on soft sand, but it’s pretty tough work and uses muscles you didn’t even know you were blessed with. On top of this, walking on a beach usually means one leg is higher than the other (the slope of the beach saves us all from drowning … think about it). This means your back and hips are twisted at an odd angle whilst walking. That can only mean pain, if you ask me.
Now look, I’m not trying to talk you out of exploring the beautiful Bay of Fires, but if you are like me and spend more time in the driver’s seat than walking beside it – then my comments are going to be very useful. My wife and I had really good intentions, we had six months to prepare ourselves for this walk. You know how many times we actually got out of the office and did some practice walking? Twice! Life just gets in the way of good intentions. Fortunately I would say we are both of moderate health and fitness, and whilst we don’t normally walk anywhere deliberately we do clock up a few kays in our normal daily routine. But nothing like 15km each day on soft sand – so I have to say there was a fair degree of trepidation in the Widman household as we set off for Tasmania.
Being on an organised tour we started our journey from a luxury hotel in Launceston, met our guides Barry and Susan and our fellow walkers (gosh, I sound like a greenie), and piled into a minibus with our packs duly loaded into a trailer at the back… you have no idea how glad I was to see that trailer! The first thing that struck me (apart from the low door frame through the sliding door) was that my fellow walkers weren’t, as I expected, thirty-something tree huggers – they were all old codgers like me! In fact, Julie and I were probably the youngest. They also were not diehard bushwalkers, but normal people like me (some may argue that point). So we settled in for the 2.5-hour commute via Bridport and Gladstone where we hit the off-road section.
It wasn’t long before we entered Mt William National Park and almost immediately saw some Forester Kangaroos for which this National Park is famous. My fellow travelling companions (two from England, one from Scotland and another from Zimbabwe) were suitably impressed with the distant view. I thought, “Gee lucky they weren’t visiting Sturt National Park where the skippies are three times as big and a thousand-fold more prevalent.” Anyway, apart from vowing to never again sit in the last row of seats in a minibus, we made it safely to a nice camping area on the edge of Stumpys Bay where we donned our backpacks… Hang on! You mean I have to carry a pack?
Well of course I did. It had my camera gear in it, wet weather gear, a fleecy jacket because it can get cold in Tassie apparently, and some water (we were told to carry at least a litre per day, I drank about 150ml over three days much to the astonishment of everyone else). And then we were handed our lunches to enjoy – nice salad and meat wraps and a cool juice. See, told you I didn’t need all that water.
As it turned out there are four vehicle-accessible camping areas in Mt William National Park, so I could have driven here in the luxury of my LandCruiser. There are fees applicable to all National Parks in Tasmania with a National Park Pass required for each vehicle – this costs $24 for a day or you can pay $60 and this gives you vehicle access for eight weeks. Then you are required to pay a daily camping fee of $13 per night, which covers two people. The vehicle pass needs to be purchased in advance and that can be done on the trip over on the Spirit of Tasmania. The camping fees are paid via honesty boxes at the camp sites; the ranger will visit, so make sure you are honest.
After lunch on day one, we hit the beach and had 13km walking ahead of us. The weather was warm with some high cloud cover, which kept it quite comfortable. We were soon down to our T-shirts and enjoying the variety of short beaches with easy rock hops at each headland. Barry, our guide, had a constant flow of information for us about the history, the flora and fauna and the aquatic surrounds.
I was surprised how easy the first day’s walk turned out to be. I felt a little sore in the legs and hips but overall I was in good condition. We overnighted at a small beach shack in Ansons Bay where we were waited on hand and foot by Susan and Barry. We had a real toilet, shower and bed. But it rained from the moment we arrived at the shack – so that meant staying inside in front of the open log fire (which was actually enjoyable thanks to the complimentary wine). Day two was going to be the big day. We were told 14km but I believe it was closer to 20. We started off with a few stretching exercises. “Pretend you are holding a pen between your butt cheeks and write your name,” said Barry. Yeah, right!
It was hot and sunny as we left yet another nice camping ground (it was Saturday morning and the site was empty) known as Deep Creek which was easily accessible via an easy unsealed road off the Eddystone Lighthouse road; mark that one down in your diary. We reached Eddystone Lighthouse by lunchtime after a glorious morning of walking pristine white beaches. Eddystone Lighthouse was built in 1889 from the local granite. Barry showed us where it was mined and how they drilled holes into the granite, inserted wooden poles, then wet them – which made the wood expand which in turn split the granite rock. I’m still not sure how the granite blocks weighing several tons were lifted up to form the lighthouse; a block and tackle arrangement similar to when we use a snatch block when winching, I suspect.
The afternoon walk was down Barefoot Beach. This stretch of sand went on forever, but the weather had turned really cruel on us with a stiff and freezing southerly blowing into our faces with icy rain pelting us occasionally. My backpack was very light … with almost its entire contents now being worn. By the end of the day my calves were screaming out for mercy and I found muscles in my hips that really shouldn’t have been there. Back to the shack where we all collapsed after a hot shower; no problem sleeping tonight.
Our final day delivered much kinder weather with mostly sunshine, a light cool breeze, some amazing pure white beaches, red granite rock (the red colour is iron oxide and in some cases red lichen), a beach made up of nothing but shells and another beach of pure black rock. But we also had some of the best red-coloured granite headlands that the Bay of Fires is so well known for. Interestingly, in case you were wondering, the name ‘Bay of Fires’ was given by Captain Cook and not because of the red-coloured granite but because of the signal fires lit by the Tasmanian Aboriginals as they saw his strange ship sailing off the coast.
Our three-day sojourn ended at the sealed road at a place called The Gardens, 20 kilometres north of St Helens. By now my hip joints had had enough and it would take me a week to recover. But all the pain and discomfort was certainly worth it. The Bay of Fires is definitely a beautiful part of Australia, and whether you join a guided walk, or simply visit the various campgrounds along the coastal strip in your 4X4 and take your own easy short walks, you will see a beautiful side of Tassie that few others ever will.
Words and Photography by Vic Widman
