It’s tempting to
say that that night on Maria Island was a black one; all black even. But that
would only be true in a metaphorical sense given that the stars were out in
abundance. No, it was my early morning check of the score in the Rugby World
Cup final that turned the night “All Black”.
Lynne and I had
been in New Zealand during the early parts of that tournament, and we’d even joined
locals watching a live broadcast of the game between New Zealand’s “All Blacks”
and the lowly-ranked Georgian team. Yet despite my huge soft-spot for our
neighbouring country, now that we were playing them for rugby’s ultimate prize,
I couldn’t help but want Australia’s “Wallabies” to pull off an unexpected win.
 |
[A young Tasmanian devil near the Penitentiary] |
It wasn’t to be. So
I was slinking back to my bunk when I suddenly heard a noise that uncannily
matched my fierce disappointment. It was devils growling! Some young imps, as
baby Tasmanian devils are called, had incurred their mother’s wrath. She was
growling and screeching in the fearsome manner that gave these carnivorous
marsupials their European name in the first place.
One of the park rangers
had told us that a devil family had taken up residence directly beneath our
room. They are part of a concerted government effort to re-settle disease-free
devils on Maria Island. On mainland Tasmania, the devil facial tumour disease
has reduced their population by over 80%. But here on Maria, there’s a chance
for healthy devils to live and breed naturally without the threat of the
horrible and contagious cancer.
There’s much more information, including
ways to get involved, on this site Tasmanian Devils
In response to the mother
devil’s screeching, I could hear the panicked imps scuttering along the wooden verandah
outside our dorm. Whether they were obediently rejoining their mother in the
den or running for dear life, I’ll never know. This rugby tragic had some
serious sulking to get on with.
In the morning I
masked my sporting disappointment with the busy-ness of preparing for our walk
to the island’s highest mountain, Mount Maria (709m). I’d somehow never been
there, and the fine warm morning looked ideal for the long trip there and back.
With luck we might get some of the renowned views over the isthmus and down to
South Maria.
 |
["Not again?" Stefan hits the cloud near Mt Maria's summit] |
One of the
fascinations of Maria is the wide variety of its landscapes. Over a relatively
short distance we had walked through dry pasture, open woodland, tall forest
and out onto boulder screes. It had all been uphill, and we were very glad to stop
and fill up our water bottles in a small stream in a wetter patch of forest.
Mike and I had kept
a running commentary on which birds we were hearing. They too were changing as
we ascended: skylarks and cuckoos of the lower country gave way to honey-eaters
and pardalotes as we rose, and finally ravens, cockatoos and currawongs nearer
the top. By the time we’d reached the scree we were disappointed to see cloud
lowering over the summit block. Given the cloud-forest style vegetation near
the summit, we shouldn’t have been surprised.
 |
[Group shot with cloud: Mt Maria] |
We clambered on
regardless, eventually topping out on the blocky summit in thickening cloud and
strong wind. We took the obligatory summit shot, grabbed a quick lunch in the
semi-shelter of some rocks, then turned around for the scramble down.
That all may sound
disappointing, especially for Tim and Stefan, who had suffered claggy summits
two days in a row. But it was a delightful walk, and an almost literal example
of the journey outshining the destination.
 |
[At least we knew our altitude] |
Still, it was a
long walk back, and we’d been on the go for nearly 7 hours by the time we
staggered back into the Penitentiary’s quadrangle. And there we found our neighbours had become a virtual
paparazzi on the lawn outside our dorm.
Their target? The mother devil and her little imps were showing themselves off,
relaxing in the late afternoon sun near our verandah.
 |
[Butter wouldn't melt: Devil imp and mother on Maria Is.] |
The imps looked
rather more relaxed than they had very early this morning. As they gave butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth looks, their
bad behaviour seemed just a fading dream. And now that I had walked off my rugby
disappointment, I was ready to wake up to this amazing situation. How many other places can you share a
quiet moment with such stunning wild animals?
No comments:
Post a Comment