We arrived in Tassie to a glorious sunny morning, with not a cloud in the sky, and a silver, flat sea. Apparently the ocean was a bit rough during the night but I didn’t notice as I was sound asleep.

Devonport, where we docked was very quiet but we found a great place to have brekkie whilst waiting for the shops to open so that we could do some jobs. 

One of the best bits about these little towns is that the pace is so much more laid back than big cities and people actually want to stop and chat. There was nobody about at 0700 but that didnt stop two bus drivers on their break, a motorcyclist, a woman walking her dog, and an old gent all appearing out of nowhere, then stopping to pass the time of day as we parked up,  asking where we were going and whether we needed any help.

I had planned to get the valves checked on my bike when we reached Tassie, so I did that this morning in Devonport, at a garage on the outskirts. However, the bike was already on the ramp when the boss came in and said that men were laying a new access road at the side, and we would have to stay put for a while. 

No problem, and it worked in our favour because as they could get no other work in, once he’d done the valves, he just went through the bike and did little jobs, tightened this, oiled that, cleaned the carb, tightened the chain.

And because it was their ‘fault’ that we were ‘trapped’, they only charged us for the hour he worked on the bike that we asked him to. And they wouldn’t take anymore for the extra work. Nice people. Actually, I think they quite enjoyed tinkering as all of the other bikes were new, bigger, fuel injected etc, not simple little carbed bikes with a bit of character and a bit of history to them

We rode out towards Port Sorrel and Narawntupu National Park. What a fantastic ride that was, through wide open green countryside and farmland, with even less traffic on the road than we’ve dealt with on the mainland. 

There were a couple of rivers on the way, notably the Rubicon River, where Gordon did a passable impression of Julius Caesar crossing it.

So, alea iacta est ( or the die is cast, and JC was supposed to have uttered it as he crossed the Rubicon, which was a river in what is now northern Italy) or in this case, was and we were well on way to the north coast.

After about an hour, we reached the park and rode on through it to Bakers Bay. We’re camped right now next to the water, ironically about 600m across the estuary from Port Sorrell - which we can see clearly. Shame we don’t have kayaks; it would have made the grocery trip far quicker, although I suppose the posties will always win on the roads.

This place is wombat and roo central. Down near the entrance to the park, there is a large flat open area and this evening, wombats kept appearing and got stuck into nibbling the grass. 

They look like a gang of giant rabbits, scattered across the area, all stuffing their faces, and are not too concerned by human presence. Similarly wallabies and roos, although they’re a little more jumpy ( ha ha - pun intended) carry on doing what they do, as the world carries on around them.

The roos also populate the scrub land leading up to the park, and along the gravel road that goes through it. Although you know they’re there, they are very well camouflaged, even in broad day light. It still startles me though when a roadside bush suddenly leaps into the air and hops away through the scrub. 

But the more I see wallabies and roos, the more ridiculous they become as animals. We all know what these giant hoppy things look like, but what are they really all about? How did they come to evolve like that? Why can’t they walk a bit or at least move about on their hind legs without jumping? Wombats can at least trundle and walk, and even scrabby old crows and sparrows in London have managed to master several methods of moving - hopping, flying, strutting - but these silly things can still only hop. Mind you, the hopping is pretty impressive when it happens.

Best spot of the day though was a poteroo. Yet another weirdo animal to tick off my list, and spotted as I rode down  a gravel track. It looks like a very small roo, and once I’d seen the first one, I saw several more. Bingo.

And then there was the sunset. Beautiful.

A possum tried to get into my tent earlier. Having initially held my breath incase it was a monster or hopefully a Devil, I realised it was probably the possum that Nadine and I had seen in the bushes near to her tent. But it wouldn’t go away and kept scratching, so I had to yell at it and whack the side of the tent. It legged it but came back a few minutes later, got the same treatment, but has now hopefully cleared off for the night. Rude possum.

But no, he came back. Twice more, and each time squeezed under the fly and looked at me through the mesh. He was quite sweet but I was tired and I didn’t want him chewing through anything. It was then that I remembered that I had some bread in my bag and it was probably that he could smell and was after, so I put it in my large waterproof bag , closed it up, then put it outside a few metres away. I put my earplugs in and setteled down to sleep, but then some birds started on the water, yelling and shouting to each other. Aren’t these things supposed to sleep at night?

Anyway, that took care of the possum, although I could here him poking around the bikes. We had left some metal plates in one of the crates on the back, and they clattered to the ground as he explored and followed interesting smells. But he didn’t come back into my tent. Or maybe the earplugs did their job.