Tasmania: 5-Day Wild Coast, Cradle Mountain & Bay of Fires Tour

4.83

(171 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

“That tree’s older than your country,” our guide Mark joked as we craned our necks up at the towering trunks in Mount Field. The forest felt damp and alive—smelled like earth after rain. I kept brushing my fingers along the bark just to feel how rough and real it was. We’d only left Hobart a couple hours ago but it already felt like another world. Russell Falls was louder than I expected—like a constant hush you can feel in your chest. I didn’t expect to care about trees so much, honestly.

The west coast towns looked straight out of an old film—Strahan especially, with its weathered docks and that salty tang in the air. At Ocean Beach, Mark pointed out across the endless water: “Next stop is South America.” I tried to picture that distance but mostly I just tasted wind and salt on my lips. One night we went to see ‘The Ship That Never Was’—it’s a local play about convicts escaping Sarah Island. Half the audience got pulled on stage (I dodged that bullet). Everyone laughed at the bad pirate accents.

Cradle Mountain was a whole different mood—crisp air, sky sharp blue over Dove Lake. My legs were jelly after Marion’s Lookout but I couldn’t stop grinning at the view. We spotted a wombat munching near Ronny Creek; everyone froze except for one guy who tried to whisper “hello” at it (the wombat ignored him). In Launceston, Cataract Gorge was full of magpies and families swimming even though it wasn’t exactly warm. I lost track of time watching sunlight flicker on the water under that suspension bridge.

The east coast beaches almost didn’t look real—Bay of Fires with those orange boulders against turquoise water. Some folks braved a swim; I just let my feet sink into cold sand and ate chips from a paper bag while gulls eyed me up. Freycinet was our last big stop—Wineglass Bay from above is something else, all curves and color you can’t really photograph right. We beat the crowds that morning so it felt like ours for a bit. On the drive back to Hobart, everyone was quieter than before—I guess we were all still somewhere out there on those trails or beaches in our heads.