Apple of our isle

Chapter 6: 100 million star camp

There’s a difference between camping for a holiday and a camp that’s your home.

Jamie and I would have a laugh thinking how we left our house, comforts and convenience to live in this flimsy canvas on a mountain top exposed to every element.

The plan was to camp until our bus swam across Bass Strait in a barge. That took more than two months, so we just went with the flow, way too excited about our future to care. We camped and planned and strategised and problem-solved our next chess pieces.

We had a very robust set-up. The camper trailer was wrapped in a massive tarp with many ratchet straps. We had to protect ourselves with any armour we could, being so exposed 200m on top of our mountain acreage. Sure, we could’ve retreated with our setup to a more sheltered base, but where’s the fun in that? And being down low, the views just didn’t cut it after being spoiled by the summit’s vastness. When you live on a mountain on an island with spectacular ocean views in every direction and Mount Killiecrankie in the foreground, it’s a given – and worth the risk.

I learned that bathrooms were overstated when you can brush your teeth under a blanket of stars that stretch to infinity. It’s like a snow globe of sparkles and like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The satellite traffic has nowhere to hide without the glow of city lights and we’ve witnessed meteor showers falling like sporadic rain.

We’ve also seen some spooky stuff in such a vast night sky – strange objects we still can’t identify that get your heart racing more than a horror movie at night. However, the most phenomenal light show of them all is the Aurora Australis. Although hard to see with the naked eye, the Northern Lights’ southern counterpart dances on the horizon, throwing purple and blue hues splashed with lime greens and watercolour yellow. It’s an incredible celestial delight to behold.

As I mentioned earlier, Flinders Island is in the North East of Tasmania, but our land is in a unique position and sits on the North West side of the island. This prime location means the glorious sun rises and sets over the ocean. The sky lights up with the deepest of reds, oranges and purples and the ocean turns lilac in colour. Add to this the complete serenity of nature’s symphonies and no synthetic, man-made rackets and we are governed by the profound natural rhythms of every day.

There’s a sharp upward spike in natural free pleasures here in the downsize of possessions.

The gains far outweigh the risks. The parachute unfurled. Ignite exhilaration, exhale our past lives.

Camp life was a challenge with limited water. In fact, sometimes we’d have to nick water in the cloak of night at the beach picnic barbecue water tank. With no power and the wrath of the roaring forties, a few times we had to abandon camp only to return to a mess of bent poles, unravelled coils and our camp crushed like a sardine can. But we persisted. We started to lose it a bit with the incessant flapping of the tarpaulin as the camper trailer would rock and sway so ferociously it felt like Connor McGregor practising a few right hooks on the canvas. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. We’d never felt so alive. The savage was in full candescence.

We were rookies with our choice of location, realising we camped on wood scorpion territory and night time was crawling with these critters. Every night consisted of our ‘relocation program’ – relocating these demon night stalkers straight to hell.

Camping with two dogs was also a challenge to protect them. Gertie is in 24-hour high care as she has a very bad heart and from lack of oxygen at birth, she’s wobbly on her feet and requires lots of medication. And dear-old Jemima is in her elderly years. It was a daily challenge to make sure they weren’t bitten by a myriad of creatures or that the nearby resident wedge-tailed eagles soaring above didn’t spot them as a palatable feast.

This is somewhat of a cautionary tale to tell. The most important element of this whole adventure is doing it with the right person. You need an anchor, your bestie and your partner in crime as this passion project tests you to your core, pushes your limits and breaks through your comfort zone. You rely on each other for basic needs, physically and emotionally. Sure, there are some frustrating blips in the radar, but it’s made our marriage an impenetrable fortress of love, respect and gratitude. It has been such a blessing and a pleasant side effect we didn’t realise from pursuing this dream.

When you remove the external noise of your old life, it strips you back to face your pure internal counterpart and those lessons are invaluable.

Mindfulness is very real. The desensitised routine of going to a tap for hot water now entails fetching water from a container and heating it on a gas stove. Light switches are replaced with head torches and mini solar panels are our source of light. And my ingenious washing-up solution consisted of a new pump-action weed sprayer!

The physical element is ever present here. From lifting, shifting, moving and squats! Before we sorted out our toilet solution, we had to give back to Mother Nature so to speak. My legs and thighs have never been stronger or more flexible. I’ll take on any cross fit champ in a squat challenge any day of the week!

Chapter 7: Kinfolk

The Flinders Island Community is made up of a mish-mash of characters, all with the common dream of living their own version of savagery.

With no tow trucks, taxis, RACQ, Bunnings or Ikea, we rely on each other. Everyone is very generous with their time and skills and teaches us the local knowledge. The rubbish tip is everyone’s scrap heap challenge, too! Stripping alternators off cars to make wind turbines and precious corrugated iron to protect your crop from the myriad of wild herbivores, it truly is a goldmine. There’s also a tip shop like Vinnies but everything is free! I’ve scored the most incredible treasures there.

The main centre of town is a magical 45-minute drive from our property, through pastures and beaches. The first 10 minutes is navigating our 2km driveway which is a 4WD enthusiast’s dream. There are a few sealed and unsealed roads with no traffic lights or roundabouts to navigate and no peak hour. In fact, the only busy time is dusk, when the roads are congested with wildlife. Our favourite place to stop is the little ‘blue rocks bus shed’ – an honesty system with the freshest produce I’ve ever tasted.

The island custom you must adhere to is ‘the Flinders Island wave’ for every person you see on the street or drive by. The main streets consist of the Interstate pub, which is also the main restaurant, a bits and bobs store that’s been passed down through generations, an IGA, a hospital, mechanics, council chambers, bakery, a butcher, the cutest art gallery and a beautiful little sandstone CWA cottage for old-school baked goods. There’s even a pristine 18-hole golf course next to the beach, with mountain views, for just $15 a round.

There’s an eclectic bunch of folk here, from farmers to growers, lobster fishermen and tour operators. There are truckies, wharfies, tradies, council workers, medicos, hospitality workers and retailers, architects, artisans, yoga gurus, wildlife carers and school teachers.

There’s also an eccentric bunch of loners, surfers and drifters, dreamers and hippies, hermits and preppers who live solely off the land.

Everyone is a character with a back story to tell. All resourceful, with streaks of ingenuity, which is vital to sustain this wild island life. We need each other to survive and that blossoms common respect and kinship. We recognise the savage in each other.

This is no place for you if you’re the high-maintenance kind. There are no nail salons, botox clinics, beauticians, shopping centres, massage, physio or acupuncture. Oh, but we do have a fly-in, fly-out hairdresser. We are not THAT savage! It does mean that all that external longing to fit in evaporates. What you see is what you get, with zero judgement. Grey hair? Who cares! The weathered faces of some older folk reveal their incredible stories of life in its raw form. 

Being a small Island, rumours abound. We are pretty sure we know what the locals think of us. You see, our special needs pooch Gertie is on three doses of Viagra a day for her heart. Every month, 20 packets are flown in for her. I suppose it could be worse than being called ‘the rooting hillbillies’!

Chapter 8: The Blue Wren

Finally, the Bedford Bus arrived after three months of camping. We were so ready for a bit more convention. It was sad seeing her final voyage as she putted along the road to her final resting place to roost on top of a mountain. Three truck rides, a barge trip and a bulldozer skull-dragging her to the summit, she was home – and home for us.

We are forever grateful for the simple joys of a separate toilet and shower, full kitchen and gas stove, dining area, office, closets, front window bay reading area and a bedroom fit for a king bed, with luxurious linen sheets and snuggly goose-down doona.

The bird life around the bus is plentiful and when I would Facetime chat with Dad on what he would call ‘the face phone’, a beautiful Blue Wren would flitter by my feet. Every time.

Dad’s face would light up and he would say “the Blue Wren is known as the bird of happiness and my favourite bird”. It was the perfect name for our magnificent iron metallic armadillo. The Blue Wren was christened.

My father passed away from heart attack complications a few months into our new life. My number one supporter, and my hero, had a new heavenly quest to conquer. That’s when I felt light years away from my old life. That’s when I felt incredibly heartbroken. Flying back to Queensland was such an odd experience. Everything I used to know felt so foreign and I craved the simplicity and silence of our new life instantly. I didn’t fly home – I was flying away from my new existence. Being back on the big island, I felt like Crocodile Dundee in New York!

So now I have another reason to continue this unfolding story and that’s to live fully, deeply and passionately in honour of my dad. To reach for the stars, but not forget the daisies at my feet. To suck the marrow out of life and live with gratitude. I see everything through his grateful eyes – that wonderment and delight and reverence Dad approached life with.

We have an airstrip on our property and one of the last conversations I had with my father was that we should turn it into a little nine-hole golf course. “Bede Daley’s memorial golf course” is in the works!

Jamie and I have so much more to do and share with you all. We are in the process of establishing veggie gardens, chooks, bees and an underground dry store and fire shelter. I’m starting to make homemade bread, preserves and homemade probiotic yoghurts and drinks. It’s self-sustained gratification that takes effort, but it makes the end result extra savoury.

Our acreage is just too breathtaking not to share, so in the near future, we hope to build accommodations for tourists, photographers, artists, birdwatchers, musicians, stargazers and alternative therapy folks. When we build our house we’ll turn the Blue Wren into a “Bedford and Breakfast” too! We also have dreams of running a little community radio station for the locals.

So that’s the story of how I am here right now, perched on this granite outcrop on top of a mountain on an untamed island in the middle of Bass Strait, finding and living our savage. Jamie and I feel so appreciative of where we have set anchor and the monumental effort it took. Flinders Island has proved to be an elixir for our souls. We are where we are meant to be with zero regrets or ‘what ifs’.

With every fibre of our being, we feel truly present and profoundly alive. As Henry David Thoreau impeccably said: “Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake.”