Fresh from our two-hour walk at the Grass Point Trail, still full from our 11 am cafe brunch, and with four hours to spare before our much coveted pub dinner booking at Bruny Island Hotel, Andrew and I decided to drive to the Southern end of Bruny Island to visit the lighthouse. Past endless horizons of cloudy sky and eucalyptus-scented tree-filled green, Andrew focused on getting our family safely through narrow dirt roads as I drifted in and out of my afternoon nap like our kids on the back seat.
When we arrived at the main entrance to the lighthouse, Andrew, not one for naps, stepped out to brave the gusts of wind blowing in from the Tasman Sea to explore. With a quick “I can see the lighthouse from my window, have fun,” I moved to the driver’s seat to resume my nap with the kids, occasionally nudged back to consciousness by conversations carried by the wind into our half open car windows. Twenty minutes later, with Andrew content with his share of alone time and myself refreshed and resuming the driving duties, we slowly drove away from the lighthouse. 200 metres later, our son woke up, filling the car with guttural screaming to match Sepultura, one line repeated over and over: “I want lighthooooooouuussseeeee!!!!!”.
From the bottom car park white gates, we walked towards an old cottage housing a small museum. Looking out one of the windows, I found myself romanticizing the solitude unperturbed by earlier sign reading, “A welcome and a Warning”. The lighthouse is claimed to be the oldest existing tower under Australian Commonwealth Control. Completed with convict labour and lit by whale lamps in 1838, these days the lighthouse is decommissioned, replaced by a solar-powered automatic light located on a hill east of the lighthouse.
After the small museum, we headed towards the wire gates to follow the concrete steps leading to the lighthouse. My daughter led the way as Andrew and I took turns piggybacking the reason why we got ourselves on this impromptu walk in the first place.
As we arrived at the lighthouse, we met the keeper who just finished the last tour and was locking up for the day. “Don’t blow away kids,” he said as he made his way down the hill. Taking the keeper’s words literally, my son tightened his grip on my hands. Despite much squinting, because I left our binoculars back in the car and because of the cloud cover, it was hard to discern Pedra Branca and Eddystone Rock. These rocks are said to be white-tipped due to generations of pelagic birds’ droppings.
Some say “Your life is a product of your choices.” By making a choice to turn around, our family found three more tracks to explore for another day: to the white sands of Jerry Beach, to pristine and secluded beaches of Cloudy and Mabel Bays, and to the dolerite cliffs of Quiet Bay. Three more of the thousands of reasons why our family will continue to come back to Tasmania over the years to come.
