Gunns Plains bis

"Hey guys, the weather is going to be sunny for a few days. Time to take a break." says Penny with enthousiasm. Trees are budding, clouds are scarce, the sun is shining, spring is clearly on its way in Tasmania. We take the opportunity offered by Penny but if the weather stays this way we might never work again... Spoiled almost to excess, not sure we'll leave soon...

We pin our destination on the map: North West Tasmania, perfect to celebrate the team's combined 60th birthday. The region abounds in Aboriginal artefacts: caves, remains of shellfish feast (2000 generations eating shellfish, that's a consequent mound of shells) and even delicate stone engravings. They chose their corner well: at the present time, it is still here that one breathes the purest air in the world (elixir of eternal youth assured).

We leave the coast to go deep into the humid temperate forest. The road is controversial. For the record, our neighbour, Helmut, a sculptor, was arrested by the police during a demonstration to prevent the construction of the road (and thus access to the forest by loggers) some thirty years ago. It's also in Tasmania that the world's first green party is born to fight against excessive logging.

We are ready to go to work: the buggy is parked in front of the workshop, the electric cable, the irrigation hose and the tools are at the back. Now we only have to solve a thorny seat problem. Unfortunately, there is not enough room for two dogs and two adults at the front, so some of them will have to devote themselves to move to the back... The two "seat-warmers" watch us with interest as we dig the trench, lay the pipe, plug it up, put a cable through and connect the whole thing. The purpose of the operation is to make the electricity go under the barrier and thus avoid a surge when the gate is open. Today Penny is off from work and is cooking her favourite soup of the moment: parsnip-carrot-apple (previously roasted in the oven) with a frank spoonful of mascarpone. Yum!

We wondered about visiting Maria Island a few months ago. Penny is going there with her brother and suggests that we join her. We pack the camping gear in the backpacks and off we go! No car on this biodiversity sanctuary. They are hundreds of wombats (it is almost necessary to be careful not to stumble on them in the dark) and Tasmanian devils (we didn't see any but it is recommended to put your food in a locker if you don't want your tent torn by a greedy devil).

The sun is forecast on the west coast (where it rains on average three times (!!) more than in Belgium), we get out of our trenches for a few days. Tullah is the gateway to the deep west. The mining rush is now well blurred, but disused tram lines in Rosebery and lunar hills in Queenstown echo of a tumultuous past. Thanks to abundant rainfall, the rainforest is quick to bury these scars. The various waterfalls are carefully mapped so we don't miss a single one (including the island's highest, 104m) and then we focus on points of interest around the wild Franklin River. In Strahan, we witness a peaceful sunset over the "graves" of the 300 whales stranded here a few weeks ago (we were also hoping to find a devil looking for a whale steak gleaned on the beach, but nothing ...).

Well, that's not all, the trenches are not going to dig themselves. We've had a good time, we can return quietly to the farm. I know some cute hairy beasts who will be happy to be able to lick our (almost) empty soup plates again.