Our first long day on the Tasmanian Trail took us from Sheffield to a campsite at the Mersey River.
CareFree and I left town shortly before 9, later than we wanted, but still plenty early for the 28 km of road walk we had planned for today. About ten minutes took us back along Sheffield’s Main Street, to the trail. Along the way, we noticed that many of the businesses in town had murals — many of them really quite good — painted on the sides of their buildings. It definitely made the town look a bit more lively and friendly.
The weather started off nicer than yesterday. It was sunny, with thin wispy clouds. It was a little cool when we left the motel, though it gradually warmed up — though not too much — during the day. Occasionally, trees along the road provided shade, but with the cool air, shade never felt like a necessity today.
Turning south off Main Street, we headed out of town, quickly into more rural environs.
At two different homes, dogs barked at us (from a quite safe distance away). At the first house, one of the (large) dogs kept picking up and dropping a toy, either trying to defend it from us, or maybe wanting us to come closer so we could play with it. Later, a smaller dog, maybe a beagle, barked at us from the comfort of the shade of a tree next to a creek.
As we got further from town, the farms were intermixed with tree plantations. It was a nice mix of scenery, rarely ever boring.
The rolling hills south of Sheffield got steeper and more pronounced. As we climbed higher, Mount Roland really came into focus: the farms on the rolling hills backed up right to a dense forest that steeply climbed the mountain, until it seemed as though the rock became vertical. Property lines aside, it seemed as though you could walk out and touch this mountain (rather than waking onto it) from this direction.
Eventually, the paved road became gravel, and then paved again. We took our first break at a large clearing on the side of the road, confusingly just as a car came up from behind and pulled in to the same pull-off.
As we got ready to continue, CareFree found the beginnings of a hole near the toe of one of her shoes. Just then, a laughing kookaburra, a bird that sounds somewhat like a person laughing, began laughing, as if to mock her shoes.
A little further ahead, as we headed into a plantation forest, a mix of pine and eucalyptus. An update on the trail’s website said forestry works were ongoing, and that we should call a contact number before proceeding into the forest, but didn’t give indication of where we should call from. I gave the number a call, but there was no answer and its mailbox was full. Given today is New Year’s Eve, we figured there’d be no forestry works ongoing today, and proceeded ahead.
Going through the pine portion of the plantation, it felt a little like parts of Southern California on the Pacific Crest Trail. Mostly dirt track, it was generally easy going, though the hills weren’t getting any less steep.
Eventually, we reached a sign explicitly warning about tree felling operations ahead, with a requirement to call the contact number for access. We again called, and again got no answer and a full mailbox. We continued, because, what else were we supposed to do?
Occasional bird calls broke the silence in the forest. We saw a large snake lounging in a ditch beside the road at an intersection. We also saw some parrots, including a yellow-tailed black cockatoo.
Clouds started to blow in, and the sky got a little more overcast, but it was still very nice out.
About an hour and a half before we reached our campsite for today, a work truck approached us from behind — surprising since there didn’t seem to be any forestry work going on.
It turned out to he the Tasmanian Trail’s Northern Coordinator, who stopped to chat with us for a little while. He let us know that we may have some company at the campsite. Some horse riders reported people car camping at the campsite, which is supposed to be closed to cars because the area is under rehabilitation as the result of a flood a few years ago. Apparently, someone removed a large rock that was part of a barrier to prevent road access, and he was going to take a look and talk with the people.
When we reached the campground, a large flat meadow bordered by farmland and the Mersey River, there were three cars with tents set up, plus some motorbikes and an ATV, several adults, and a handful of kids running around the forest near the campground. We walked around a bit to check out the immediate area, find where we’d get water from (and cross the river tomorrow), and pick out a campsite. A non-official trail guide we had suggested there was also a hut at the campground, but it was nowhere to be found, presumably damaged in the flood and subsequently removed. The campsite’s meadow didn’t seem to be much more than a meter above the current river level, so it seems likely that when the river flooded, the whole campsite was underwater.
We set our tent up a bit away from the car campers, and mostly stuck to ourselves, only interacting with the other group when one of them came over to say hi. (We were tired, and especially with the kids running around, we wanted our peace and quiet.)
As the sunset, the relative quiet was broken by a brief stint of laughing from the kookaburras, who silenced as abruptly as they started. I remembered that it was New Year’s Eve, and hoped that the car campers wouldn’t decide to make a lot of noise a midnight. After fording the Mersey River tomorrow morning, we have a long day ahead, and would like our sleep.