Episode summary:
Tasmania is a treasure trove of wildlife and wilderness. It is a place of ancient forests, wild coastlines and primeval landscapes, some of which have barely changed in millions of years. It is a place I visit as often as I can to immerse myself in nature and temporarily forget the fears and frictions of the world… and it never fails to calm me. If you are wondering ‘what is so special about Tasmania’, ‘what kind of birds live in Tasmania’ or ‘what is it like hiking the Overland Track’ this podcast might give you some answers.
Listen to a podcast about natural therapy in a forest in Tasmania.
Transcript – S3 E4: Natural therapy in a Tasmanian forest
This week we’re getting free, natural therapy for body and soul in Tasmania.
I am on the home stretch of the Overland Track, Tasmania’s famous long-distance walk. I leave my campsite at dawn to walk the last few miles to the southern end of Lake St Clair. There, a bus will take me to Hobart and a much-needed hot bath.
The lake is at its still, mournful best at this time, living up to its Aboriginal name leeawuleena, meaning ‘sleeping water’. It reminds me of Wastwater in the English Lake District, which can be equally moody and ethereal.
It rained in the hour before dawn and the pines, eucalyptus and tree ferns are now dripping moisture. The scent of the drenched woodland is overpowering. Peppermint, myrtle, something lemony and sandlewoody, and a potpourri of a hundred other fragrances. It’s as if the forest spirits have lit tiny aromatherapy oil burners throughout the undergrowth.
I breathe deeply, infusing my senses. I hear secret, unseen streams trickling down from the slopes of Mount Othrys. The sound is wholesome and comforting; nature’s very own Zen spa soundtrack.
Bird-watching in paradise
The water therapy harmonises with the descending trills of Superb Fairy Wrens, which are busy feeding deep in the ferns, making the fronds twitch as they hop between them. Every now and then a male emerges from the greenery and I catch a glimpse of its brilliant, sky-blue head. The females are not blessed with the blue but have a fetching dash of orange across their eyes and a beautiful up-turned tail.
Just above my head there is a rapid flit of wings and another flash of colour, bright red this time. The bird shoots through the tree branches and perches a short distance off. A Scarlet Robin!
I hadn’t expected to see any this far west as I had read that they prefer the northern and eastern regions of the island but this one seems very much at home. It dashes from branch to branch and tree to tree, as if it checking everything is in its right place.
When it does stay still long enough for me to get some photos I see its incredible markings [see main photo]: a jet-black head offset by a splash of white on its forehead, and a breast that is brilliant crimson higher up and fades to a reddy-orange lower down. The Scarlet Robin and the Superb Fairy Wren are nothing short of works of art.
Primeval landscape
I look deep into the forest understorey and watch its myriad green shades merge from emerald to absinthe and avocado to kale. Its colours and plants looks so well ordered and layered, as if a master gardener has been at work here, sculpting it to perfection.
Mist is evaporating slowly from the ferns and as it does so, it gradually reveals a lone and well-camouflaged Bennett’s Wallaby just 10ft away. I have disturbed its breakfast and it looks at me indignantly, its cheeks full of grass and leaves. “How rude,” it is thinking.
The wallaby blinks. I blink back. It starts chewing again, tentatively. It watches me, its ears swivelling like tiny, furry, radio telescope dishes, picking up every murmur and movement I make. I breathe silently, fixed to my spot.
The wallaby’s perfectly groomed coat glistens with moisture; every hair sporting its own tiny droplet. It nods its head towards me. Is that a ‘hello’? Or a ‘get lost’? I want to believe it is the former so I nod back. What did it see when it looked at me, I wonder: a friend, a foe, or just another wet hiker in need of a good bath?
Then, as mysteriously as it had appeared, the wallaby takes a slow hop and vanishes through a curtain in its wondrous forest.
Natural therapy
This experience is hugely therapeutic for me. The serenity and innocence of the scene calms my anxiety and sends flickers of elation through me. Nothing matters but this immersion in nature, this feeling of relief and hope.
It has come at a good time. Being a news reporter and foreign correspondent (which was my main job for years) takes its toll. We see horrors, we know too much and we learn just how truly wicked our fellow human beings can be to each other and to the world. We toughen ourselves so we can brush most of it off but some trauma takes longer to shed; the worst you never forget.
Tasmania’s incredible landscapes and wildlife help me cleanse my soul. This final stage of the Overland Track through this idyllic, Tolkien-esque forest, is one of the most moving experiences of my life and I’ll be forever grateful.
