They say that every journey starts with a single step. In a way, this is no doubt true. In a more accurate way, it starts with packing. In our case, it starts with not just packing, but also selling our worldly possessions. Then jamming what remains into a very overloaded EL Falcon.
The drive from Zeehan to Devonport was uneventful, if not typically Tasmanian. It rained for most of the journey across the ranges, before clearing to blue skies once on the north coast. Time was made for a delicious lunch at an organic free-range pig farm and a short walk through the forest.
The ferry was not due to depart till 9pm, but boarding is an elaborate and drawn out process so we were required at the dock no later than 7pm. After a thorough check by customs, “Do you guys have anything?” “Nope” “Ok, carry on”, we drove into the steel beast and found our cabin. Thanks to some minor swell and subsequent sideways rolling of the ship, sleep was intermittent.
The drive north was mostly harmless with the occasional dilemma of where to eat (regrettably, mostly fast food), trying to take a nice photo of me (not possible), locating a geocache (successful) and avoiding wildlife (also successful).
Eventually, after 3 days and 2200kmns of driving we made it to Brisbane, where we will stay for a month before flying to Bangkok. Supposedly it is Autumn, but the temperature and humidity says otherwise. On the bright side, it should help acclimatise us to the tropics, which I am led to believe is much warmer than Tasmania.