The whitewater principle

Australia 2026, part 2

Spoiler: We are back in England. Everything worked out fine, just later than usual. There will be more adventure stories to tell! But for now, the Discreet Traveler returns to Tasmania, where the 24^th of February was one of the more memorable days of this or any trip.

First, some context. In the summer of 1997 I finished graduate studies and traveled back to the USA. On a trip out west I hiked the Grand Canyon with my Dad, brother, and cousin. Later in that trip, the three of them went whitewater rafting, but I chose not to join them on that occasion. I figured I would have another opportunity to go whitewater rafting, with my girlfriend at the time.

I have never gone whitewater rafting.

The reason I bring this up is not that I regret it. Now as 30 years ago, I really don’t care about whitewater rafting. But what I learned was that if I have a chance to do something, and it might never come up again, I should try it—if I even kind of want to do it, or want to have done it. (My high school prom comes to mind.)

And so, when T’s niece offered to take us and another aunt (T’s sister) on a scenic flight in Tasmania, it was I who persuaded T. to say yes, in spite of myself.

Our niece and her husband are professional pilots. They fly these small aircraft for customers, and we got the full treatment—all kinds of interesting facts. But the experience was also personalized for us: they pointed out T’s brother’s house, and where our other niece’s wedding was going to take place on the weekend.

The experience was fabulous. It was a beautiful day (you wouldn’t do it in bad weather). T’s sister was flying into Hobart from Melbourne that morning, and joined us straight from the “big” airport. When we got to the plane, it was pretty small.

I expected the flight to be very bumpy. As it happened, there was less turbulence than on lots of big aircraft I’ve flown on. It was very cool to sit behind the pilot and see this young woman we knew actually flying the plane. And the object, of course, was the views—from just above my exit door!

Alexandra flew us all along the coast past the southernmost point in Australia, and around to the Southwest National Park. This corner of Tasmania is only otherwise accessible by boat, or by hiking for 7 days! There are no roads.

When we got there, our young guides took us out on a boat through Bathurst Harbor.

Buttongrass water

We stopped to walk in a couple of places.

Panorama with T’s sister

The extremely slow-growing Huon pine

There was a trail of the Needwonnee people, the traditional owners of the land for over 35,000 years. Sometimes Australian history seems recent by European standards—a 19^th-century building is “old”—but this is obviously only one side of an extremely old story.

Then, we flew straight back to Cambridge across the Ironbound Range of mountains.

At one point, Gavin told us, the geographical center of Tasmania was visible on our left. In effect, we were seeing half the state in one afternoon.

We would never otherwise have seen that corner of the world. The pilot was great, and so was the flight. “Absolutely awesome,” T. exclaimed, with an oath, after we landed!

This experience reminded me of how amazing it is that human beings can fly. Before airplanes and airports became unpleasant, back before I’d taken so many flights, I remember appreciating this. I used to sit in a window seat and enjoy the view all the way. Once, on a flight from Tennessee, I sat next to a guy who looked like Willie Nelson and confessed to me that he was afraid. I had compassion, that he couldn’t enjoy what I was enjoying.