A wondering Woofer

After already racking up over 1500 kilometers in the van a few days on Stewart Island off the southern coast provided a well earned break and a chance for some R&R….Yeah Right! No time for lay-abouts on this train! Caught the walk-on ferry over to the Island, which has a population of just 400, most of which only ever return to the mainland to go abroad. There is one resident policeman to keep all the OAP’s in check as rumor has it they get pretty rowdy after a few. Checked into the only hotel on the island and decided the best way to explore most of the 23km of road on the entire island would be on two wheels. Bikes rented, little did we know they were “pump your own” which was a bit of a bastard.

4 hours on the saddles took us out to the east of the island and back across to the west side in one afternoon The Island is world renowned for its purity. Spectacular birdlife and crystal clear waters, real picturesque beauty. Interestingly we read in the local community newsletter that the Island is currently home to a small group of “Drillers” who seem to be celebrities to the locals, but their cause is heavily scrutinised by all accounts. They are currently searching for signs of oil. Not sure weather Conservation Paradise and Dirty Oil Rigs can live in harmony really, but I guess everything has a price?

After several nights sleeping all squashed up in the back of the vans it was great to stretch out in a proper bed. Not for long though, as I dragged my dreary ass out of bed at 5:30am to catch a mind blowing sunrise over the harbor from the balcony of the hotel. 

Made a friend on a walk later in the morning, a Tasmanian fella in his 60’s called Woofer. A 6ft plus trawlerman who bumped into us on the way up to one of the island lookouts, and seemed particularly interested in what I was going to do about the euro when I got home… not sure if he thought I was a politician, or weather he just doesn’t usually converse with anything that isn’t flapping with gills. Seriously, he was a lovely bloke and very kindly broke all my fingers with his massive hand as I cried a tear and he trundled off into the bush shouting “Good on ya Dean, say hello to the queen for me!”…

Before we left the island we were all bitten by sandflies and I lost two games of giant road cone chess to a very gloating dad, which was pretty frustrating. I’m not a gracious looser, surrounded by natural beauty or not.