To begin with, Freycinet was a fairly long sail north. In addition to the sail itself, we were also planning an intermediate stop at Ile des Phoques, also known as White Rock, which is strange because Ile des Phoques translates to Seal Island in French. Anyway, it has lots of fur seals and seabirds, but it is also riddled with giant caves that are big enough to take a boat inside and even through to the other side of the island. Begonia’s mast is a bit of a problem, but our dinghy would fit just fine. The water surrounding Ile des Phoques is all too deep for anchoring, so our plan was to each go in the dinghy in turn, while the other one loiters nearby in Begonia.
Once we got there, though, our plans changed. The leftover swell from the previous few day’s winds was still running. When it approached the island, what didn’t explode into spray on the rocks magnified as it entered each cave. It was quickly apparent that it would NOT be safe to enter any of the caves. Well, that’s a real time saver. We decided instead to do a lap in Begonia.
We spotted plenty of fur seals and penguins in the waters around Ile des Phoques (Seal Island)
We watched the swell enter and leave the big caves, accompanied by lots of spray and big booming noises. Around the (sheltered) other side, we found the bulk of Ile des Phoques seal population. The little island is just a big chunk of rock with no access other than up sixty-degree slopes of bare rock interspersed with tiny ledges. Most of the ledge space was occupied by seals all of the way to the summit. Put a pair of mittens on me and my legs in a sleeping bag and I seriously doubt I would be agile enough to climb that rock. Going down looks especially harrowing. As we passed by, enough of the seals were spooked by us that we got to see several examples of how to flee the cliffs for the safety of the water or vice versa. The most common mode of egress seems to be the Spaghetti Method, where they shoot out of the water onto the wall. If they’re ready, they’ll stick. If not, it’s back into the ocean for another try.
As we were happily enjoying all of these antics, we drifted into the island’s lee. WHEW!! The ammonia smell of the guano nearly knocked us on our feet. Someone had just cracked open the world’s biggest tube of smelling salts. We’re awake! We’re Awake! Time to get outta here!
After a few more miles sailing in the refreshingly fragrant lee of southeastern Tasmania’s eucalypt forests, we arrived in Coles Bay. Coles Bay is a small settlement, but it is the biggest thing around. The roads and trails entering Freycinet National Park begin here, so it hosts a scattering of supporting infrastructure.
We have been on most of the trails within during our visits to Wineglass Bay and were hoping to walk something new on this, the opposite side of the peninsula. My first instinct was to go up Mt Amos, the northern bookend to Wineglass Bay. After a bit of research, though, it seemed like some parts of the trail could be pretty hairy, particularly if there was any chance of precipitation whatsoever, which there was. We decided instead to do a big loop to Cape Tourville Lighthouse and the adjacent lookout.
At the Tourist Office, I went to ask the woman behind the counter about the hike. She started by giving me driving directions to the trailhead at Cape Tourville. When I explained that we were walking, she looked at me like I was a tedious idiot and repeated the same directions, emphasizing that there were trails at the end. When I explained that we did not have a car, she must have decided I was lying because how do you get to Coles Bay without a car? I then got a third retelling, only a bit slower this time. ”Okay”, I smiled, “Thanks so much!” Well at least I gleaned that part of our journey was going to be on a drivable surface.
We walked across the peninsula on a beautiful day
It wasn’t bad. We only saw about five cars the whole way and it was nice to walk on a good, improved surface. After the lighthouse, with its view of the southern half of Wineglass Bay, we returned via a much quieter 4WD route that deposited us at the opposite side of Coles Bay from Begonia.
We visited the Cape Tourville Lighthouse where a small group of lizards appeared to befriend us and beg for food(?) at our feet when we stopped for our packed-lunch with a view
We were now pretty tired and hungry, so it was such a great coincidence (or was it?) that we had to pass right by the town’s only pub. The kitchen would not be open for forty minutes, but we were invited to order drinks at the bar to have while we wait.
That went okay, but then Maryanne noticed that almost all of the other tables in the place had ‘Reserved’ signs on them. It appeared that the entire population of the adjacent RV campground were planning to join us soon. To get a jump on this, Maryanne decided to see if she could put our order in now for when the kitchen opened. She was met with an entire staff who were doing that airline gate agent thing where they would occupy themselves with some small task while completely ignoring the person standing right on the other side of the counter from them. It took her half of our wait time just to get an acknowledgement of her presence. Our orders came out right as the crowds arrived and to be fair, the food was really good, but we knew it would be faster to buy our desserts from the convenience store on the way home than to try to catch someone’s eye at the pub.
Views of The Hazards (the mountains in the distance) from trails around Coles Bay
A storm was on its way. Like the last, this one would be screaming out of the north, then be replaced with southern winds. To better position ourselves for this, we moved a few miles down the Freycinet Peninsula to Bryans Corner. There, we inadvertently intercepted and were suddenly swallowed up in the Van Diemen’s Land Circumnavigators. This mini rally left from Hobart a few days behind us for their counter-clockwise lap of the state. We had previously seen several of them on AIS and just thought it was because it was a nice weekend, not realizing that they were all travelling as one group. Had I known Bryans was their destination for the night, I might have chosen somewhere else to avoid the Cruise Ship Day atmosphere, but we got there before most of them showed up.
We chose a spot amongst the few boats already there that was both protected and spaced so that none of us would run the risk of dragging into anyone else if any anchors started letting go. Then the rest of them showed up and nixed that plan. Apparently, the key to safety in a storm is to be able to jump onto the adjacent boat’s deck if something goes wrong with yours. Suddenly it was New Year’s Eve in Sydney again. Well, okay, not that bad. We have been getting pretty spoiled lately. If we ever make it back to the Caribbean, an anchorage like this will make us wonder, “Where is everybody?”
Most got the spacing pretty even, with the exception of the guy at our port bow. He really wanted to be tucked into the quite reasonable space between us and the next boat instead of behind us in the wide-open spaces with the plebs. On the fourth try, he finally got his boat where he wanted it, less than ten meters from us. I guess he figures that if he makes a running jump, the big trampoline is a safer landing spot than the deck hardware on the monohull opposite him. To his credit, he did keep a watchful eye on things. Every time our boats would approach while sailing on our anchors, he would come out into his cockpit and stare at us for a while before deciding we weren’t going to hit and returning back down below. From his expression, I always got the feeling he thought we were doing something wrong. Maybe he was just concentrating.
The storm turned out to be a big dud. I don’t know if it was because the land to windward did a really good job of blocking the wind or if there just didn’t turn out to be that much of it to begin with. That kept us from having to take part in any anchor dragging drama, I suppose. The day ended up seeming like just a slightly choppy one. We probably could have risked going ashore, but we had stuff to catch up on and it was still Cruise Ship Day on the beach.
With the peak of the storm past, my real worry was what would happen to all of us at the 4am wind reversal. My answer came when a very nearby clunk broke the silence. I suspected it was our neighbor’s anchor coming home on its roller. I emerged to find his lights receding into the darkness. He wasn’t the only one. Three more sets could be seen forming a line in front of him. We now had plenty of space, so I went back to bed.
When we emerged later, every other boat in the bay had gone. I was relieved to have our new-found privacy until I checked on them and found them all heading north along the coast like circus elephants holding each other’s tails. Uh, oh. Maybe they are going where we are going. They are ahead of us on bigger, faster boats and they might take up all of the berthing and anchoring space when they get there. Oh, I don’t like this one bit!
To see our other visits to Freycinet - see our trips to Wineglass Bay in Jan 2022 and in Feb 2020. We managed to do see different areas on each visit (lots of hiking, and great views).
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