Travelling Hopefully - Marsupials in the Mist

 After our fungus ridden heroics of the previous day both my correspondent and myself were ready for a quieter, less physically demanding day. In this we were assisted by breakfast. The previous night I had raised, purely hypothetically I assure you, the possibility of a breakfast that involved pancakes, butter, maple syrup and bacon. Quite specific for a hypothetical scenario I'm sure you'll agree. I was expecting the location of a cafe that might serve such items to eager travelers. Instead my correspondent recruited an ex-prison guard who filled me so full of food that walking was out of the question and even registering a pulse seemed like too much effort. 

However I couldn't spend all day rolling on the floor clutching my belly. At least that's what my correspondent said. Whether she was keen to show off her neighbourhood or simply desperate to get me out of her house is a matter of debate but eventually I shambled after her as she set a brisk pace towards a nearby stream. 

The aforementioned stream runs down a valley that my correspondent's house clings to the side of and provides a little local bushland within walking distance. Or at least it was walking distance for those who weren't stumbling along with bacon fat dribbling out of their eyes. My correspondent waxed lyrical about the bush, a small cave positioned for our entertainment and marsupials. Yes apparently furry, hoppy things abound. If we came back at dusk we could see them. I refrained from asking what we were doing there in the middle of the day.

Before the thrill of caves and marsupials however there was water.  The stream had been dammed a little upstream of my correspondent's home and the ensuing modest lake provided its small mite to Hobart's water supply as well as a residence for homeless water birds who I can only assume were living in bus shelters until the dam was built.

Here is the aforementioned lake doing its best to look like a natural feature

 I agreed that the lake was picturesque and definitely a fine example of lakedom (actually "lakedom" sounds like a rather niche porn site). I took photos and gathered my strength before embarking on the cave aspect of our journey.

"Where's the cave?" I asked looking around hopefully. My correspondent pointed straight up, there may or may not have been a malicious gleam in her eye. I should have guessed that. Since her locale was blessed with a creek it should not come as a surprise that there was a certain amount of verticality to the land immediately on either side of it. A road snaked up the hillside. Apparently if we climbed for a certain distance we could then strike out for a brief stroll until we reached the cave. Unspoken was her assurance that if I didn't make it up the hill she would leave my body to the tender mercies of the elements and marauding marsupials.

I gasped, retched, heaved and sweated and once I had made it to my feet set out on the hill climb. I suppose it wasn't that brutal as steep ascents go. It was relatively short and I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I prayed for death as my wobbly legs somehow propelled my breakfast heavy body upwards. My correspondent chatted on the way, I'm not sure who to as my conversation consisted of ragged gasps and occasional moans. 

When the path finally tilted back in the direction of horizontal my correspondent invited me to admire the view. The only view I was admiring was the red mist in front of my eyes but it has to be admitted that was spectacular. A short way along and the cave was presented to me in all its glory.

A small but definite cave

I took my time admiring the cave. Frankly I would have admired a rubbish heap if it had given me a chance to catch my breath. I agreed with my correspondent that it was a charming and understated example of the species then I turned my back on it so I could photograph the surrounding scenery.

The surrounding scenery. Somewhere at the bottom of this is the lake we just left

We sat and chatted idly in the shadow of the cave while some of us waited for our heart rate to get down to a level where coronary was only likely rather than inevitable. Once having exhausted every excuse for not moving, and disliking the look of the clouds charging over the top of Mount Wellington we decided to depart. Rather than retrace our steps down the road we went down the hillside instead. It took us about five minutes which made my previous whining seem a little pathetic. 

Once back at lake level my correspondent presented me with two options. We could either return to her house or cross to the other side of the creek and walk through the bush there. For reasons which I can only describe as pure masochism I selected option B. I almost gave up when the first thing that happened was we started climbing again but fortunately this was of short duration. With the creek somewhere below us on the right we strolled along the narrow path. I glanced down and came eye to eye with a wallaby which had been hiding in a bush hoping we'd go by without stopping. Caught out it graciously posed for a photograph before fleeing into the trees.

Well that was unexpected

Quite cock a hoop I continued along with a spring in my step. I looked more closely at the bush from then on and was rewarded with close views of the bush. A black blur caught my eye, I initially passed by but retraced my steps. I peered at the blur and it resolved itself into something roughly marsupial shaped. A potoroo according to my correspondent. 

This is the best I could do, it was considerably further away than the first one

Naturally I looked for platypus in the creek and naturally I didn't see any but I was over my platypus fixation now glutted on marsupial sightings. "Just wait," promised my correspondent.

Later that day after an afternoon nap/coma my correspondent returned me to the lake amidst mounting drizzle and mist. Apparently marsupials of various stripes congregated on the open grass once all of the tourists had buggered off. We sneaked up on vague, black shapes in the rain and gathering darkness. Closer they resolved into vague, black shapes that were, well, closer. Fortunately the quality of my phone puts my eyes to shame.

It was nowhere near this clear or this bright.

 

 

I'm not sure what this is but it hopped and was furry so I'm going with marsupial rather than frog

With my trip to Tasmania crowned in marsupial glory there was nothing left but to thank my correspondent for not killing me at any stage in the proceedings and retire to my hotel in preparation for my departure the next day. At the airport I bought the latest book by Richard Osmond and finished it by the time I arrived back in Sydney.