Walking into Landscape
Swansong is now in its third year of slow stays, and I’ve finally started a blog for our guests and for kindred spirits who love the same thing we do: immersing in nature. I’m here at Swansong for the weekend, and the signs of spring are popping out at me. New growth on the banksias, a sea of pink Indigofera dance in the breeze. It’s sunny, warm and the outdoors calls; I’m torn between heading out for a walk and sitting here to write. It feels like the perfect moment to revisit some of the short walks Sam and I have explored in this cherished part of North East Tassie.
Toward the Summit of St. Patrick’s Head (694m)
St. Patricks Head
In March this year, driving east from Launceston along the Esk Highway, we came around the familiar bend where the idyllic town of St Mary’s comes into view, nestled beneath the rocky peak of St Patrick’s Head. We’d been pondering that triangular mount for more than ten years. The main reason we never took the detour was that we were always in a heated rush to get to Swansong! However, the day had arrived. Our plan to take it on was partly a training exercise for an upcoming hut-to-hut walk in the Alps, and partly to awaken our latent curiosity for this precipitous landmark. It’s a few k’s drive off the highway, down some unmade backroads, but easy enough to follow the route. Pulling into the car park, it felt like we were in someone’s backyard – but we soon found the standard blue Tasmanian Parks trailhead sign reassuring us we weren't trespassing. The 3km track started gently through a small gate opening to a green meadow, but the terrain quickly became rocky and steep. The dense and shady bush offered only glimpses of the wider landscape, but it showed how rapidly we were climbing. Near the summit, there were sections where we had to haul ourselves up by hand. It wasn’t too tough, but it was a solid little workout as we kept a brisk pace (we were training after all!). When we scrambled out of the bush onto the peak, the views were breathtaking: it gave us a whole new perspective of the coastline we’d only seen from ground level. We sat for a while, watching the clouds play hide and seek with the view and contemplating the vastness as wrens darted in the shrubs and she-oaks around us. Our timing had us there in the middle of the day, but I reckon this would be an unforgettable experience at sunrise, considering the eastern aspect.
St Patrick’s Head has always been a landmark in this part of Tasmania. To the Paredarerme people, it was known as Lumera Genena Wuggelina “the great molar tooth” with its distinctive triangular shape standing out from the surrounding hills. Made of hard volcanic dolerite, the peak reaches 694m. After so many years of looking up at it from the road, sitting on top of the magnificent rocky outcrop felt like a milestone.
Deep into the forest at The Blue Tiers Forest Reserve (Moon Rim Valley Circuit)
Blue Tier Forest Reserve
This scenic 45-minute drive through Gould’s Country and Lottah didn’t just drop us at the start of the famous Blue Tier mountain bike trails; it opened the door to a true walker’s playground (Don’t know why we had no idea about this for so long!!). There were many options, from a quick 20-minute stroll to half-day adventures. We chose to explore the Moon Rim Valley circuit, only 3.5 km long, but it took us about two hours because we were dawdling and stopping often to take it all in. The extensive spread of lichen looked like light snowfall on the ground or blooming pale flowers. The terrain had that ancient alpine beauty, with a carpet of moss and twisted wind-shaped shrubs hugging the ground. The weather gods were shining on us, and to our amazement, clear skies granted sweeping views all the way to St. Helens and the Bay of Fires. Along the track, we added a bit of spice by tasting mountain pepperberry shrubs, chewing both leaves and fruits for a full sensory experience. The mossy path gently wound through changing vegetation; the walk was easy, undulating, and soft underfoot. The air here is something else, so cool, clean, and fresh -perfectly capturing the “come down for air” mantra of Tassie tourism. We saw a pair of wedge-tailed eagles circling overhead. Spotting these birds in this semi-alpine wonderland was truly awe-inspiring. We walked into the forest valley where lichen gave way to lush green moss, fernery and babbling clear streams. We can’t wait to go back and try another route.
Afterwards, we drove to Pyengana and rewarded ourselves with a hearty Pub in the Paddock meal.
Lichen granite and rough seas at Humbug Point Nature Reserve
Humbug Point Reserve Trail
Most of our walks take place along the Humbug Point coast. Not only is it nearby and easy to get to, but it’s beautiful (rivalling the Bay of Fires if you can separate the two!) It epitomises everything we love about this part of Tassie. Sometimes we start from Dora Point and head towards Grant’s Point; other times, we begin at Skeleton Bay and make our way along the coast. There are many options, depending on how much time you’ve got and how far your legs want to carry you on the day.
It’s a trail that never feels the same twice. The coast here is ever-changing and shaped daily by tides that move the sands and expose different stretches of rock and reef. The orange-lichened granite shines in the sun, the view opens out into wide blue, and then the path pulls you back into the sheoak forest before returning to the sea again.
On different walks, we’ve seen extraordinary things: a white-bellied sea eagle dropping from above to snatch a fairy penguin for dinner, and a tiger quoll slipping quietly and swiftly through the undergrowth. Our guests even captured videos of whales passing through as they strolled here. It’s the kind of place where nature shows its finest moments if you take your time to notice the details. The walk itself is gently undulating, accompanied by the twittering of fairy wrens and the laughter of kookaburras. Always varied and interesting, each bend reveals a new horizon or a change of pace. For us, it’s become a favourite rhythm: a few hours immersed in a landscape that reminds us why we come here, and why Swansong exists at all.
