Exploring the treasures of Tasmania with Coral Expeditions

A nature-inspired circumnavigation cruise rewards us with a new perspective on Australia’s southernmost state.

“If you feel seasick, just stay in the centre of the boat, near the casino,” texts my wife’s sister, who’s worked as a nurse on cruise ships for yonks. The only problem with this advice is there’s no casino. Coral Expeditions is for ‘travellers, not tourists’ and it challenges your preconceived ideas about cruise ships. Along with a discreet passenger list of only 50, we join Coral Expeditions for its 10-day Tasmanian experience around the island.

Having previously enjoyed Coral’s signature Kimberley Cruise last year, we should now address the ‘elephant in the water’. The Timor Sea is a millpond; the Southern Ocean is not. Indeed, it’s famous for high seas and high winds. Moreover, our Coral Discoverer vessel is half the size of the vessel used in the Kimberley cruise, so we approach this cruise with a touch of apprehension.

However, Coral anticipates this by anchoring in bays, harbours and inlets, and tackling the might of the Southern Ocean mostly while you’re sleeping – a nautical sleight of hand.

Departing Hobart

On departure, as the Hobart Hills scroll past, we dine. The passengers mostly comprise smartly dressed, sprightly seniors on the cashed-up side of retirement. And while the food was outstanding on the Kimberley cruise, meals on the Coral Discoverer are even better.

The Coral Discoverer.

As I sip a cocktail dubbed a Japanese Slipper, its layers of viscosity swirling in my glass like a lava lamp, we share a table with Maggie and Paul from the Blue Mountains, a charming duo in their seventies who stand out as the sole bohemians amidst our fellow passengers. Maggie, a retired psychologist turned writer, exudes a bubbly warmth, while Paul, a former university lecturer looks like a Soviet dissident in his ubiquitous black skivvy and Greek fisherman’s cap. Dining with different folk each night on cruises can be a bit like ‘speed-dating’, where you pick your favourites as the journey progresses.

Bushwalking emerges as the pulse of this cruise, offering serene strolls through the verdant tapestry of Tasmania’s wilderness at diverse levels of challenge. Whether you seek a leisurely amble or a more adventurous trek, this voyage caters to all hiking appetites, ensuring an experience tailored to your preferences; even lazy types like me. 

Adventure Bay

Our inaugural bushwalk is around Adventure Bay. The bay was first sighted by Abel Tasman in 1642. Later, in March 1773, Furneaux renamed it Adventure Bay in honour of his ship HMS Adventure. We depart the cruise ship in the Xplorer (pictured below) – a giant shaded tinnie that’s lowered into the water from a hydraulic platform at the stern. It opens mouth-first onto the beach, disembarking passengers like troops on D-Day. This means you can access the more remote parts of Tassie. We hike to a lookout, weaving through native cherry-trees before coming across the ruins of a whaling station. 

Rather than the hard walk, I’ve opted for the moderate walk with the oldies as I am inherently lazy. Suzie (75), a retired nurse, and Owen (77), a retired GP, join us. Owen has hiking poles, making him look like a cross-country skier. This moderate amble is enchanting and the summit is worth the effort. Great jagged cliffs are skirted by bull kelp and lit by the sun, resembling gold tinsel.

Lunch on-board is freshly grilled snapper and we join twitchers Jane and Gil from Fitzroy. I ask Gil if he follows AFL to which he replies, “I’ve only been living in Melbourne for 50 years. I’ll get to a game one day.” Like most passengers, the only eagles Gil follows are the white-belly sea eagles we spy from the window of the dining room, wheeling high above the cliffs.

Fortescue Bay

We explore Fortescue Bay the following day, which is like something from the imagination of Tolkien. We choose a slightly harder trek this time, hoping to run into Bilbo Baggins. Threading through Jurassic tree ferns, we enjoy a soundtrack of yellow wattlebirds, before coming upon the wreck of the William Pitt; slightly incongruous in this pristine wilderness.

That evening we enjoy rack of lamb before meeting Debbie and Steve who are in their fifties and recently sold their wholesale veggie stall at Brisbane Markets. “We’re not retired, just tired,” Debbie yawns, over a glass of delicious Tassie Shiraz. That evening we experience the muscle of the Southern Ocean as we beat against the swell to Port Davey. My wife feels a little nauseous but is okay. My concern is tempered by eating two dinners and drinking her wine. But most of this choppy leg is overnight and we awaken to the millpond that is Port Davey.

Port Davey

Post omelette, we don tall-collared lifejackets, transforming us into a high-viz Elizabethan portrait. We then board inflatable Zodiacs to explore the Melaleuca Inlet, with its cola-coloured water, darkened by tea-trees and button-grass. Here we see the rare, orange-bellied parrot. Gil and Vivian are so excited I think they’ll lay an egg. Moreover, I love how young guides Dave, Maddy and Lochy are genuinely thrilled by the wildlife, too, sharing photos with passengers on their long-nosed cameras.

Exploring the Melaleuca Inlet on inflatable Zodiacs.

We then embark for the Needwonnee Walk, threading us through the ancient homelands of the Aboriginal people it’s named after. Like most of Tasmania’s indigenous population, they were forcibly removed to Flinders Island, so this walk honours them. It’s an interpretive experience, peppered with installations, like huts and canoes. The walk culminates at a bird-hide, where we spy the Southern Green Rosella. Later that afternoon, in the tender, we visit a fur seal colony, frolicking on the sun-touched rocks.


Back to the Coral Discoverer, over a dinner worthy of MasterChef, we meet Mike and Gillian. Mike is a British Airways pilot and Gillian is a consultant. Being Brits, they swam at our previous visit to chilly Fortescue Bay – just like home they say, only warmer. Post dinner we lean over the stern gunnels with a glass of bubbly to watch dolphins in the moonlight, hemming the wake of the ship.

The following morning, still anchored in the shelter of Port Davey, the seasoned hikers are dropped at the edge of the Lucozade-coloured water to trek to a peak. Our new travel chums, Owen and Suzie, give me that look as much as to say, “Carn, if we can do it…” Shamed, I wave them goodbye to instead enjoy a leisurely cruise around the sea caves and blowholes of Port Davey.

Beginning our trek towards the top of a mountain

Post dinner, each night Coral plays a nature documentary. However, tonight’s movie is Top Gun: Maverick (2022). I’m unsure how this fits into the meta-narrative but there is a beach scene, if I recall. And the lead actor has ‘cruise’ in his name.

Franklin

The following day we visit a place that’s right in my wheelhouse – the Wooden Boat Centre in Franklin. At the jetty, I spy the 107-year-old Nancy, a former erstwhile tender for flying boats at Rose Bay and now running on an electric motor. This chimes with me as I too own a former tender from Rose Bay Airport and have converted it to electric.

We then have a fascinating tour of all things boat building before strolling over the road to Frank’s Cider House and Cafe. The history of apples in Tasmania traces back to the early 19th century when Europeans planted the first apple trees. With its fertile soil and temperate climate, Tassie proved to be an ideal location. By the mid-1800s, the apple industry thrived, and Tasmania earned the nickname ‘The Apple Isle’. Eager to support the local economy, we sit down with a cider or two.

That evening we dine with Ian and Mary who are in their sixties. Ian is an ex-corporate accountant and Mary is in property. We discuss the former Flanagan’s Afloat restaurant, now moored outside their Sydney harbour-side apartment. Captain Simon, the master of the Coral Discoverer, joins us. He’s a sharp looking dude with a cracking sense of humour and clearly enjoys his job, having great camaraderie with the crew and being more hands-on in his role on a smaller ship.

The following day we visit Art Farm, weaving through pear orchards to enjoy their sculpture garden. We are then coached to Grandvewe, where the ‘ewe’ is a clue to the fact they make cheese from sheep and distil vodka (world’s-best 2018) made from the whey, a by-product of cheese making. They also do an oak-barrelled vodka made from whey that tastes like scotch whiskey (or whey-skey?).

Maria Island National Park

Back on-board we enjoy an arvo lecture by Mike on whales as we wheel around Tasman Island, the most southerly point. An isle of jagged cliffs, it resembles a giant Flake chocolate and we soon see the index finger of its lighthouse atop the cliff.

We anchor in the shelter of Maria Island that’s nestled off the eastern coast of Tasmania. The island boasts a rich and varied history that mirrors its diverse landscapes. Originally inhabited by the Tyreddeme people, Maria Island became a penal colony in the 19th century, housing recalcitrant convicts. Renowned for its sandstone buildings and dramatic coastline, remnants of its convict past stand as poignant reminders of this era.

We follow the indefatigable Mike, clad in ‘hiking Crocs,’ across the island. At 75, Mike doesn’t even break into a sweat, leaving me pondering how he can be a true wine connoisseur and so fit. As we traverse through the historic village, Mike unpacks the island’s history and its geology, fauna, and flora. Nowadays, the island serves as a nature reserve for wombats as friendly as labradors, and Tassie devils that are thankfully free from facial tumours.

Embarking on a journey often requires a nudge, sometimes even a boot up the backside, especially when faced with the prospect of a thousand daunting steps skyward. Yet the allure of exploration outweighs the comfort of complacency, especially after being shamed into it by seasoned hikers accompanying us, all 20 years older.

Freycinet Peninsula

Wineglass Bay, nestled along Tasmania’s stunning Freycinet Peninsula, earned its moniker from early explorers who marvelled at its pristine beauty and unique shape. Legend has it that whalers, seeking shelter in the bay during the 19th century, likened its crescent outline to the curve of a wine glass. After wheezing my way up the trail, feeling like I’m in a race of shame with septuagenarian travel chums, Owen and Suzie, who make it look like a doddle, I conquer the summit.

Yet, it’s not only the vista that also leaves me breathless; it’s the remarkable sight of pink granite steps and boulders, defying gravity with effortless grace. In a moment of delirium, I swear off my indulgences, convinced that this Herculean effort warrants a drastic lifestyle change. However, as fate would have it, back on board, I find myself clutching a glass of rosé, celebrating our triumph over the summit.

My wife and I are the only ones to hail the tender for a swim at the beach. None of our hardy fellow passengers are keen to venture out in the biting wind, so we’re dropped off like Tom Hanks and Wilson to enjoy a romantic swim on this talc-white beach. The water welcomes us with invigorating Tassie freshness and the shoreline offers treasures in the form of shells, reminiscent of a hidden jewellery trove, including ancient Aboriginal middens, connecting us to the island’s rich history. The Paredarerme, or the Oyster Bay tribe, inhabited the Freycinet Peninsula for millennia.  

Port Arthur

The final day of our voyage brings us to the haunting shores of Port Arthur. Having read Robert Hughes’ Fatal Shore for both leisure and my doctoral thesis, my anticipation is palpable. Yet, nothing prepares me for the stark reality that awaits. Port Arthur emerges as a testament to the depths of human suffering and resilience simultaneously, its sombre history preserved with an eerie intensity.

Our guide, Jim, adds a personal dimension to the experience, revealing that his own ancestor once wielded the lash as a convict flagellator within these walls. It’s a chilling reminder of the intertwined legacies that echo through this dark penal settlement. And when duty calls – in the form of lunch and wine beckoning us aboard the ship – the juxtaposition of present-day luxury and historical hardships is even more thought-provoking. At the captain’s farewell drinks, I ruminate on the last 10 days.

Embarking on a Coral Expeditions voyage is a mind-expanding and soul-rejuvenating journey amidst the splendour of nature’s wonders. A newfound appreciation for geology and biology blossoms within you, proof that sometimes the greatest rewards come not from hitting the jackpot in the cruise ship’s casino, but from exploring the riches of the natural world around you.

Note: The original text of this article has been modified for clarity and style.