Christmas at Corinna, part 2

The West Coast of Tasmania is the wettest part of the country. I’ve heard it rains on average 300 days of the year there, though if it’s like Hobart (it may not be) that might mean anything from drizzle through a light shower to a brief downpour, with only occasional days of steady rain. But on Christmas morning at Corinna we woke to bright sunshine pouring in the windows, the bush outside gleaming and green. After a leisurely and conversational breakfast the four of us were ready for a walk … but a pademelon was once again feeding outside the cottage and watching us so required watching in return. This photo shows its lovely face.

Then we saw she was a female and had a joey feeding nearby. It was curious and restless, grazing for a few moments, suddenly bounding away and leaping back to graze again. A third pademelon appeared—a family. When the young pademelon got tired it disappeared into its mother’s pouch. But then we saw its small head protruding from the pouch, grazing as the mother grazed. Alas, I didn’t get a picture of that!

When our friends camped at Corinna last year they walked the Whyte River trail—a loop that followed the Pieman River to where the Whyte River flowed into it, and then arced back to the retreat. They recommended it and we all set out. It’s timed at an hour, but we knew we’d take longer. We’re not really bushwalkers, but amblers with cameras and binoculars. We like to stop and look at things closely or try to find the birds calling from the treetops.

The walk took us into forest almost immediately, with the river frequently in view through a screen of trees and undergrowth. Overhead foliage was thick, but the sunlight streamed in where it could, reflecting from surfaces of leaves and reeds. 

We heard lots of birdsong, but weren’t able to spy any of the singers in the sparkling foliage. The trees towered above us, some slender, some huge. 

The trail wound among them—we saw myrtle and laurel and sassafras, others we had no names for. Moss covered fallen trunks and roots and sprawled up standing trunks. I saw what looked to me like a giant’s foot—root and trunk cased in moss and other plants. 

Spider webs stretched between trees, and were woven into crannies in bark. Green seed cases stood up like blossoms on the laurel. The day grew warmer, birdsong came and went. At the Whyte River we came to a platform for viewing platypus and/or fishing, but there were no animals and we’re not fishers. The track then started to climb and grew stony. It twisted and rose and required some effort, the sunshine grew brighter as we got higher. Then it leveled off and soon we were back at the cottages.

It was early afternoon and we’d earned our Christmas lunch and the champagne we’d brought to drink with it. But first we had a small exchange of presents—and here’s the gorgeous gift the Harrises received:

Cross stitch by Irene McGuire

Corinna includes a restaurant that offered a special Christmas lunch—and it got a very fine review in the Hobart paper a week or so ago. But we planned from the beginning to self-cater, and packed the car tight with food and wine. Irene even brought her lovely Christmas platter. We set out ham and smoked salmon and rocket salad on it, with bread and condiments on the side, a cork was popped and we settled to serious eating. 

The Christmas lunch

Lunch ended—much later in the afternoon—with stollen from the Bruny Island Cheese Factory and delicious fresh juicy cherries, a standard Christmas food here. We took more wine to the back verandah, where we talked and read till it was time for a late supper of … leftover ham and smoked salmon. More talk as the day darkened, then time to read till our eyes wanted to close … as a wonderful Christmas Day came to a relaxed and quiet close.