Flying far and flying high…
Went away 2 weeks ago on a light aircraft to spend a day in the remote southwest of Tasmania in a world heritage area.
Please understand the term ‘remote’ – 6 days walking to get to civilisation through rugged and dangerous mountains and bushland. Or by boat, sailing in inhospitable waters. And please also understand that I HATE flying and suffer from claustrophobia causing acute anxiety!
The magnificent coastline.
The original inhabitants’ story.
Bathurst Harbour from Antenna hill
Enigmatic old house and garden shipped in on boats and in rucksacks. One of only three houses belonging to miners around Bathurst Harbour in times past. The bath in the deserted house has a stick up which quolls can climb if they fall into the empty bath.
Picnic by the water, salty from the ocean 6kms away and tannin stained from peat and bushland.
Breathed sigh of relief at this point. Airstrip 5 minutes away and husband’s arm seriously bruised from me holding on!
I was glad I accepted the challenge of the flight. To see the remote, grand and completely breathtaking location was on my Bucket List. But when I hear a similar aircraft flying overhead now, my stomach knots itself inside out. As a form of desensitization, not sure it worked…