Within minutes of heading inland from the north coast the scenery changed to dense forests and rough mountainous terrain, giving it that wilderness feeling. Concerned about our petrol supply and chances of finding a petrol station we detoured to a little village only to find their only pump was dry. What we did find was a lush green gorge with a waterfall at one end and forested peaks stretching off into the distance at the other. The Tasmanians certainly have fantastic scenery in abundance, but aren’t afraid to whack a dirty great mine next to it (nor dam it, reforest it and so on).
At Cradle Mountain, after taking a dribble of expensive fuel, we abandoned the van and shuttle-bused it to Dove Lake at the foot of the twin peaks of the mountain. The dark brown lake complements the mountain perfectly, and with the trees replaced by heather, the view of the mountain is unhindered, especially important for taking photos! Arriving a tad too late to walk up the summit track, we took the easy track around the lake then went up a steep path to Lake Wilks to get the blood flowing, and make it feel more like a hike than a boardwalk stroll.
We camped up at Rosebery, site of yet another zinc and tin mine, and also a train line that passes over the campsite but with only one train passing by as we tucked into dinner. It wasn’t until lights out that the strange noises began, a cross between a bird of prey call and a cat being tortured. I’m hoping it was neither, and just the Tasmanian Devils talking to each other, after all it is how they got their devilish name.