I had initially set off to travel Tasmania with an old friend of mine. When we arrived, however, and after just a week of our planned three-week journey hiking and camping through the virgin landscape of central Tasmania, we realized that our trip was doomed, and so, too, was our friendship.
We parted ways, and with no other choice, I rented a car for myself and planned to explore on my own. I was furious at my friend for not being more open-minded, but once I got in the driver’s seat, and found my own little moments of zen, none of it mattered anymore.
I have clear memories of those two weeks spent wandering the empty roads of Australia’s nether region. With no camping gear (my friend took it all with him), I slept in the backseat of the rental car, next to unspoiled beaches and inside lush national parks.
I was mostly lost during those two weeks, unsure of where to go or what to do, but that’s also the brilliance of it. I found small stretches of isolated beach near Port Arthur, I ended up stranded by a flood in Bicheno, and I discovered the most opulent coastline I’ve ever seen in Binalong Bay.
The whole journey started out all wrong, and though I didn’t end up having the trip I expected, I’m convinced I got the trip that I needed. Sometimes, the universe just knows what’s best for us.
