I'm writing this whilst sitting inside a sleeping bag like a shiny fat slug, the temperature here below in Mendana is a balmy 4ºC. To add to the holiday atmosphere we both feel like zombies after a badly disturbed nights sleep. You know the routine, at around 0230am the wind climbs above the forecast 10 knots and swings around,  threatening to detach your anchor and drive you onto the shore. We threw on 23 layers of clothes and motored across Carnarvon Bay (in Porth Arthur) dodging unlit mooring buoys and fishing boats to seek shelter just off the historic site.

We haven't written for so long that some friends were assuming we'd given up on the cruising life, and quietly slithered back to take our places in mainstream society. Far from it, we're actually contemplating early retirement. The property market in Perth has gone mad, and we're thinking of selling up and investing the profit for income (and a little growth) and maybe I'll actually work now and then just for fun! We have loved Tasmania, both onshore and what we've seen of the coastline. For us West Australian cruisers, a huge bonus has been having a choice between several sheltered anchorages at every cruising location. The lower west coast was a delight. The area has a rightful reputation as one of the cruising hurdles, as it is in large part south of 40º latitude, and there are few options for shelter away from Macquarie Harbour and Port Davey; but if you don't have a tight agenda, there are safe havens where you can hide and wait for perfect weather. Hell's Gates and Strahan were our first stop south from King Island. It was wonderful to sail on a sheltered inland waterway for the first time. The lower end of Macquarie Harbour and the Gordon River have an extraordinary atmosphere, due in part to dark tannin stained water, and the mist shrouded forest that runs down to the water's edge.

One little incident stands out in our memory of the Gordon River. We were motoring up the stream to Sir John's falls, perhaps a little to close to the centre of the river when, with no warning, a large turboprop float plane came roaring around the bend ahead of us, just off the water and galloping along in excess of 80 knots. We immediately veered towards the starboard bank, and despite this the aircraft appeared to pass very close to our port side. I distinctly recall a row of five faces with big round eyes pressed up against little round windows. No harm was done, but I can't help feeling that there is the potential there for an accident in the future.

Port Davey is also very special. It is totally different in character from Macquarie Harbour, for us very like the north west coast of Scotland – stunted trees bunched together in clumps; sheltering from the prevailing wind in little stream gulleys, and on the down wind side of the mountains. The water is also black, coloured by the button grass that covers the hills surrounding Bathurst Channel & Harbour. We did a lot of walking using the extensive network of wombat tracks. Every junction or general point of interest, along these tunnels through the scrub, is signposted by a pile of oblong droppings often balanced on top of small stones. We spent 3 ½ weeks in the Port Davey wilderness area, moving between three or four favourite anchorages. There are no settlements, so what you carry aboard is all you have. By the end we were down to baked beans, dried sausage, and much more serious, one bottle of beer, and the last carton of Chateau Cardboard.

Whilst hiding from one severe front with a stern line tied to a tree ashore, I nearly had a chance to test out my para-medic skills on Lorraine. It was most disappointing. The situation was perfect; 'couple stranded in remote wilderness – medical drama'; I was already thinking about how we'd spend the cheque for the film and book rights, and choosing new a suit for the TV interviews as I loaded the syringe. Strangely, the sight of me waving a needle around was enough to provoke a dramatic recovery.

In Recherche Bay, just north and east of Tasmania's southernmost cape, we met up with Azure (heading west-about) and Cartref who'd come down the D'Entrecasteaux channel to meet us with badly needed stores. We had a wonderful evening aboard Azure, and were joined by new friends we'd made that day from a beautiful English S&S Swan 'Nordlys'. A few days later and little further north we swapped stories with another FSC boat 'Cockatoo II' also heading west.

Since then, we've spent most of the time in Hobart, initially in historic constitution dock, but now in a winter berth at the Royal Yacht Club of Tasmania. We've made several excursions back down 'the channel' and more recently to Port Arthur.

We'll be ready to move north in a month or two, but it will be a wrench. Tasmania is a cruiser's paradise.

All the very best
Peter & Lorraine