Spring Break locations, pluses and minuses…
Over the years, as our travels have carried us across continents and through all kinds of seasons, we’ve come to notice something about Spring Break. It isn’t really about a place as much as it is about an atmosphere. The same beach can feel carefree and welcoming one week, then crowded and unpredictable the next. It all depends on who arrives, how they behave, and how prepared you are when you get there.
In the United States, Spring Break has long been associated with a handful of lively destinations. Miami Beach, Panama City Beach, and Cancún are often at the top of the list. These places can be fun, colorful, and full of energy, but they can also become overwhelming. Large crowds, heavy drinking, and occasional petty crime tend to rise during peak weeks. We’ve learned that if you’re drawn to these spots, timing and location within the destination matter greatly. Staying in quieter neighborhoods or choosing accommodations slightly removed from the main party areas can make all the difference.
On the other hand, some destinations seem to balance beauty with a more relaxed pace naturally. Places like San Diego and Santa Barbara offer sunshine and coastal charm without quite the same intensity. You still see students enjoying their break, but it feels more spread out, more manageable. Walking along the shoreline or sitting at an outdoor café, you get the sense that people are there to enjoy themselves, not lose themselves.
In Mexico, the contrast can be even more striking. While Cancún and Cabo San Lucas are known for their party scenes, places like Puerto Vallarta or Tulum can feel calmer, especially if you avoid the busiest weeks. That said, even in quieter areas, it’s wise to stay aware of your surroundings, use reputable transportation, and avoid wandering late at night in unfamiliar neighborhoods. These are simple habits, but they’ve served us well in many corners of the world.
Heading across the Atlantic, parts of Spain come alive with young travelers during this time. Ibiza has a reputation that precedes it, and for good reason. It can be dazzling, but also intense. Meanwhile, cities like Barcelona offer a broader experience. Yes, there is nightlife, but there are also quiet mornings wandering historic streets, afternoons in museums, and long, leisurely meals that remind you why you came in the first place.
We’ve also found that some of the safest and most rewarding Spring Break experiences come from thinking a little differently. In Japan, for example, Spring Break often coincides with cherry blossom season. Walking beneath blooming trees in Kyoto or Tokyo feels worlds away from crowded beach parties. It’s peaceful, orderly, and deeply memorable. Similarly, Australia offers beautiful coastal escapes like Noosa or Byron Bay, where the vibe leans more toward nature and wellness than late-night chaos.
Of course, no place is entirely safe or entirely unsafe. Even in the calmest destinations, things can happen. And even in the busiest party hubs, many travelers have perfectly enjoyable, trouble-free trips. What we’ve come to believe, after all these years, is that safety is often shaped by the choices we make. Staying aware, keeping valuables secure, pacing yourself, and trusting your instincts go a long way.
There is also something to be said for knowing what kind of experience you truly want. If you’re seeking connection, relaxation, and a sense of place, you may find yourself drifting toward quieter destinations. If you’re craving energy and celebration, the livelier spots will call your name, just with a bit more caution required.
Spring Break, in the end, is a reminder of how differently we all travel. For some, it’s about letting loose. For others, it’s about discovering something new. We’ve found that the most meaningful moments tend to happen somewhere in between, in those places where you can still hear your own thoughts, even as the world around you celebrates.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, March 22, 2016:
We saved more on upcoming 2027 cruise…
Tom has always had a knack for details, the kind that many people might overlook in the excitement of planning future adventures. While I tend to focus on other aspects of travel, imagining the feel of a place and the experiences that await us, he remains quietly vigilant behind the scenes, keeping a close eye on the practical side of things. Over the years, this balance between us has proven to be invaluable, and once again, his diligence has paid off in a way that leaves us both smiling.
When we book cruises well in advance, as we often do, there is a window before the final payment is due. During that period, cruise lines will occasionally adjust their pricing, sometimes lowering fares as promotions change or availability shifts. Many travelers either do not realize this or simply forget to check, but Tom never does. He consistently monitors the prices of our booked cruises, revisiting them every so often with quiet determination, hoping for an opportunity to save.
This time, his persistence resulted in yet another welcome surprise. On the first leg of our upcoming series of four back-to-back Azamara cruises next year, he noticed another price drop. Without hesitation, he followed the necessary steps, contacting the cruise line and requesting the adjustment under the price reduction guarantee offered to US citizens before final payment.
It is somewhat of a simple process, but one that requires attention and follow-through, which he handles effortlessly, though it can take as long as one hour on the phone while Costco Travel contacts the cruise line and processes the new documents.
The result in this case. was an additional savings of US $600, AUD $852.03. Even after all these years of travel, there is still something deeply satisfying about saving money on something we were already excited about. It feels a bit like finding a hidden treasure, tucked quietly into the folds of an already wonderful plan.
Moments like this remind me how much our lifestyle depends not only on spontaneity and curiosity but also on careful planning and awareness. Travel, especially long-term travel, is not just about where you go but how you manage the journey along the way. These small victories, these thoughtful actions, make a significant difference over time. They allow us to continue exploring the world in a way that feels both sustainable and rewarding.
As we look ahead to these four consecutive cruises, each one offering its own unique itinerary and experiences, there is an added sense of appreciation knowing we have managed to reduce the overall cost just a little bit more on this more expensive cruise line (with a passenger load of only 700). It may seem like a modest amount in the grand scheme of things, but when added to previous savings, it becomes part of a larger picture of mindful travel.
I often find myself reflecting on how fortunate we are to have found a system that works so well for us. Tom’s careful attention to these details complements my tendency to immerse myself in record keeping, other costs, and various details. Together, they create a sense of balance that makes this lifestyle not only possible but also deeply fulfilling.
Totals are shown below, a simple snapshot of numbers that tell a much bigger story. Behind each figure is a decision, a moment of awareness, and a shared commitment to making the most of every opportunity that comes our way.
From the January 20, 2026, post, here are the savings we incurred on that date, on each of the four cruises:
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US $3,080, AUD $4,373.76
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US $1,560, AUD $2,215.28
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US $1,280, AUD $1,817.67
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US $ 400, AUD $568.02
Total Savings: US $6,320, AUD $8,974.72
Now, with the additional savings he arranged yesterday, the totals are reflected below
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US $3,680, AUD $5,225.79
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US $1,560, AUD $2,215.28
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US $1,280, AUD $1,817.67
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US $ 400, AUD $568.02
Total Savings: US $6,920, AUD $9,826.75
Wow! Tom will continue checking pricing every few days, quietly watching for another drop on these more expensive cruises. It has become part of our routine now, a small but meaningful habit that keeps paying off. Each time he logs in, there is that little spark of hope that we might save a bit more. Even if nothing changes, it feels good knowing we are staying on top of it. And if the price dips again, it will be another of those satisfying moments when patience and diligence reward us in the most practical and welcome way.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, March 21, 2016:
Wonderful lunch with locals…Pauline and Cameron…What a fantastic coincidence!…
On Wednesday, we met Pauline and Cameron for lunch at the Neptune Grand Hotel Bistro, a place that felt instantly welcoming the moment we stepped inside, after our many visits in the five weeks we’ve been in Penguin. The staff have come to know us and warmly greet us each time. They have also learned how I like meals to be prepared, specific to my way of eating, which makes it easy to go there.
We arrived a little early, as we often do, giving ourselves a few quiet minutes to settle into our reserved table and take in the atmosphere. Something is calming about those in-between moments, just before new introductions, when anything is possible, and expectations are still unwritten.
A short time later, Pauline and Cameron arrived, smiling and easygoing, immediately putting us at ease. They are another couple we’ve never met before, living in a small town beyond Ulverstone, and as is often the case with these kinds of meetups, we had no idea what to expect. Over the years, we’ve learned that these spontaneous connections can go either way, but more often than not, they turn into something memorable.
They are about twenty years younger than we are, but as we quickly discovered, age has little bearing when shared interests come into play. Their love of travel and cruising mirrored our own, and it didn’t take long before the conversation found its footing. As mentioned, Tom had been communicating with Pauline through a Facebook group for our upcoming cruise, the kind of modern connection that still amazes me when it leads to sitting across from someone in real life, sharing a meal and stories as if we’ve known each other for years.
Coincidentally, they will be on the same cruise as us when we embark next month, sailing aboard Royal Caribbean Voyager of the Seas. They were on our last 47-night cruise, boarding in Cape Town and disembarking in Singapore, but we never met them while on board. There is something especially comforting about knowing there will be familiar faces on board, this next leg, particularly on a journey that brings together so many strangers from all corners of the world. It adds a layer of anticipation, a sense that the next adventure is already taking shape.
What we assumed might be a simple one-hour lunch turned into a leisurely three-hour experience. Time slipped away almost unnoticed as the conversation flowed with ease, filled with laughter, shared experiences, and the kind of animated storytelling that makes you forget to glance at the clock. These are the moments we treasure most, when connection feels effortless and genuine.
Normally, Tom and I don’t eat lunch, choosing instead to have dinner around 5:00 pm. It’s a routine that has become second nature to us, part of our OMAD (one-meal-a-day) lifestyle. Not wanting to disrupt that routine too much, we enjoyed the meal without concern and continued our fast until the following evening. It resulted in a longer stretch than usual, but we’ve found that this way of eating suits us well. It’s not for everyone, of course, but for us, it has brought a noticeable sense of well-being. I haven’t felt this good in years.
Each day, I continue with my exercise routine, dedicating at least forty-five minutes to movements guided by online apps and videos from physical therapists and specialists. These sessions have become an important part of my day, not just physically but mentally as well. They offer structure, purpose, and a sense of progress, even on days when improvement feels slow.
My walking ability is still not where I’d like it to be. My legs tire after standing or walking for longer distances, and there are moments when I’m reminded of my limitations. Yet, in other ways, I feel stronger than I have in a long time. I don’t feel winded, and my overall endurance seems solid. It’s a curious balance, feeling capable in so many ways while still navigating these ongoing challenges.
After six months of daily effort, I’ve come to accept that my legs may never fully return to what they once were. That realization could easily feel discouraging, but somehow, it doesn’t. Perhaps it’s because I can still do what matters most. I can manage our daily lives, explore new places, and fully participate in the experiences that bring us joy. Walking the long hallways on a cruise ship, for example, is entirely manageable, and that alone feels like a small victory.
We are not discouraged. If anything, we are grateful. Grateful for what we can do, for the progress I’ve made, and for the opportunities that continue to unfold before us.
Now, with just 23 days remaining before we leave Penguin and make our way to the Hobart Airport, there’s a quiet excitement building. We look forward not only to seeing Pauline and Cameron again but also to reconnecting with many of the wonderful people we met on the 47-night cruise, who will be joining us for this next leg of the journey.
Life, as it stands right now, feels full in the best possible way. We have meaningful connections, plans on the horizon, and a deep sense of contentment in our day-to-day lives. Truly, we don’t have a complaint in the world.
Next Friday, our new friend Salli, whom we met on that same 47-night cruise and again, who coincidentally lives in Tasmania, will be coming to stay with us for the weekend. We spent a lot of time with Salli and our other new friends, Di and Peter, who are coming to visit us in Marloth Park in August. Gosh, we are so blessed to meet so many wonderful people in our world travels.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, March 20, 2016:
The best places in the world to see humpback whales
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Today, I stumbled across this article from Travel + Leisure Magazine, found here. For those interested in Travel and whale watching, this may be of interest.
“These Are the 4 Places in the World Where You Can Swim With Humpback Whales
From Tonga to the Dominican Republic, these destinations offer rare, regulated encounters. By Evie Carrick, Published on March 18, 2026
People travel all over the world to see a humpback whale’s dorsal fin glide through the water or to watch a tail or fin lift as a hello. A lucky few might even witness a breach or hear their haunting song. Any kind of humpback whale experience is special, even life-changing, but it often takes place from the deck of a boat, which can feel like a clumsy barrier between human and whale.
In very few places around the world, this barrier is removed, and people are allowed to enter the water alongside humpback whales to grasp their size and beauty fully. (Adult humpbacks are typically 46 to 49 feet long.) It is a very rare, very special experience, and one that should be taken seriously. Typical in-water whale swims are limited to four to seven people, and the experience is completely dependent on whale behavior; if they’re showing signs of annoyance or disinterest, you might have to try another day.
Below are a few places where swimming with humpback whales is allowed and well-regulated, along with each destination’s humpback whale season and the tour operators that are respected.
Vava’u, Tonga, South Pacific
One of the best places to swim with humpback whales is near the island of Tonga in the South Pacific. The island group of Vavaʻu is a popular place for mother whales who come to give birth and nurse their young in the warm, calm waters. Whale sightings tend to be consistent and are well-regulated. Operators use small boats and limit the in-water group size (typically four to six people at a time).
When: July to October
Popular tour operators: Tahi Tonga, Humpback Swim, and Acanela Expeditions.
Mo’orea & Ruruto, French Polynesia
Some of the clearest waters are found in French Polynesia, making the country an excellent place to swim with whales — especially if you’re hoping to capture crisp underwater photos and videos. Mo’orea is located just west of Tahiti, making it an easy-to-get-to option, while the more remote island of Ruruto is another 1.5-hour plane ride south of Tahiti.
Both islands offer the rare chance to swim with humpback whales. Respected outfitters and tour companies on Mo’orea include Mo’orea Moana Tours and Mo’orea Sea Experience. In Ruruto, most whale-watching excursions are part of week-long packages that include lodging with a local family, food, and multiple marine-life expeditions.
When: August to October
Popular tour operators: One With Whales and Baja Wild Encounters.
Ningaloo Reef, Australia
In the Ningaloo Reef off the coast of Western Australia, pods of humpback whales often swim and feed alongside whale sharks, the largest known fish. The chance to not only see but also swim with these two giant creatures is rare.
When: August to September
Popular tour operators: Ningaloo Whale Shark Swim and Kings Ningaloo Reef Tours
Silver Bank, Dominican Republic
The only humpback whale swimming experience in the Northern Hemisphere is found in the Dominican Republic, which is home to one of the largest humpback breeding grounds in the Atlantic. Like the offerings on Rurutu, the Silver Bank whale-watching trips typically take place over several days. The offshore bank where the whales breed is a journey from the coast, so most operators run liveaboard boats.
When: January to April
Popular tour operators: Aquatic Adventures and Aqua-Firma Worldwide Expeditions.”
In many countries we’ve visited over the past 13 years, we’ve eagerly signed up for whale watching tours, always hopeful, sometimes lucky, always grateful to be out on the water. But the moments that linger most vividly came in Pahoa on the Big Island of Hawaii, where humpbacks seemed to appear as if on cue, and again in Antarctica, where everything felt magnified by the wild, icy environment. There, killer whales surfaced beside our small zodiac boats, close enough to hear their breath. We ventured out several times a day, never tiring of the wonder, never quite believing our good fortune.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, March 19, 2016:
Lunch with local couple today that Tom met on a Facebook group…More new scenery photos…
There is something deeply grounding about farmland in Tasmania, something that settles into your bones. Perhaps it is the way the land rolls rather than rises, soft green hills folding into one another like a well-worn quilt. Or maybe it is the steady, unhurried pace of life that seems to linger in the air, as if time itself has agreed to slow down out here.
Driving through the countryside, I often find myself gazing out the window longer than intended, caught up in the gentle repetition of paddocks lined with fences that have clearly stood for decades. Some lean slightly, weathered by wind and rain, yet still doing their job. Beyond them, sheep graze with an almost meditative calm, their thick wool rippling slightly in the breeze. Cows stand in small clusters, occasionally lifting their heads as a car passes, only to return to their quiet routine moments later.
The colors are what strike me most. Green, of course, but not just one green. There are countless shades, from the deep, almost velvety tones of well-watered pasture to the lighter, sun-kissed hues of open fields. In between, there are bursts of gold when the grasses dry and the occasional brown patches where the earth peeks through, reminding you that this land is worked, lived on, and constantly changing.
Farmhouses appear sporadically, often set back from the road, surrounded by a mix of practicality and charm. Some are modest and functional, while others carry a kind of quiet beauty, with gardens that seem to have grown naturally over time rather than being carefully planned. You get the sense that generations have lived here, each leaving its own subtle mark without disturbing the place’s overall harmony.
There is also a certain honesty to farmland in Tasmania. Nothing feels overly polished or staged. Tractors sit where they were last used. Sheds stand sturdy and purposeful, often filled with tools and equipment that have seen years of use. Hay bales dot the fields in neat rows or scattered clusters, depending on the stage of the season. It is a landscape that reflects effort and resilience, shaped by both human hands and the unpredictability of nature.
What I find especially compelling is the way the farms seem to coexist with the surrounding environment. Patches of native bushland are often left untouched, providing shelter for wildlife and a reminder of what the land once looked like before it was cultivated. It is not uncommon to see a line of tall trees acting as a windbreak, as shown in our photos; their presence is both practical and beautiful.
The air itself feels different out here. It carries the faint scent of earth and grass, sometimes mixed with the unmistakable aroma of livestock. It is not unpleasant, just real. Breathing it in, you become aware of how often we are disconnected from the origins of the food we eat. Here, that connection is undeniable.
There are moments, especially in the late afternoon, when the light shifts and everything seems to glow. Shadows stretch across the fields, and the hills take on a softer, more subdued appearance. It is during these times that I feel most aware of the quiet pace of farm life, even without seeing the people who make it all happen.
In a world that often feels rushed and overly complicated, Tasmania’s farmland offers a kind of gentle reminder. Life does not always need to move so quickly. There is value in patience, in routine, and in the simple act of tending to the land. And somehow, just passing through, you carry a little of that calm with you long after the fields have faded from view.
We continue our mission to see more during our remaining 25 days in Penguin until, once again, we’re on the move to other adventures.
Soon, we’ll head out for lunch with a couple Tom connected with through a Facebook group for cruisers. It still amazes me how often these online interactions turn into real-life meetings, sometimes in the most unexpected corners of the world. They’ll be on the same upcoming cruise from Brisbane, which makes today feel like the beginning of a longer story rather than a one-time encounter.
At the end of the month, we’re looking forward to a special visit from Salli, a lovely woman we met on our last 47-night cruise. She’ll be making the drive from Hobart to spend two nights with us. It’s funny how quickly connections formed at sea can carry over onto land, becoming something more lasting.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, March 18, 2016:
Our 14 year anniversary of posting…Miscellaneous new photos…
Yesterday, we mentioned that it was the 14th anniversary of the beginning of something that has shaped every single day of our lives before we left to begin our journey. When I pause and look at the numbers, I can hardly believe them. After today’s post is uploaded, we will have written and published 4,926 posts. Even typing that number feels surreal.
It is difficult for me to wrap my head around the idea that I have sat down nearly five thousand times to write about our lives. Each morning, wherever we happened to be in the world, I opened the laptop and began again. Sometimes I knew exactly what I wanted to write about before I even took the first sip of coffee. Other times, I stared out the window for a while, letting my thoughts wander until something meaningful surfaced.
Oddly, I have rarely struggled to find a topic. Life on the move has a way of presenting stories, whether you go looking for them or not. There are the obvious moments, such as breathtaking landscapes, wildlife encounters, new cultures, and unfamiliar foods. Then there are the quieter moments that often mean just as much. A conversation with a stranger. A funny mishap at the grocery store. A small discovery during a walk through a town we had never heard of before.
Many days, we have also been fortunate to include photos we took along the way. Our cameras have captured everything from dramatic scenery to the simplest details of daily life. A meal we cooked. A curious animal wandering through the yard. A sunset that seemed too beautiful not to share. Those images help bring each story to life and allow you, our readers, to feel as though you are right there with us.
Of course, there have been times when inspiration did not immediately appear. On those days, I might spend a little time researching something related to wherever we were traveling. Perhaps the history of a town, the origins of a local tradition, or an interesting fact about a place we planned to visit. Those moments of curiosity often opened the door to stories we might otherwise have missed.
What means the most to us is knowing that so many of you have taken the time to read these posts. Over the years, they have been read millions of times. That number is humbling and deeply meaningful. Each time someone visits the site, leaves a comment, or sends a kind message, it reminds us that this journey is not something we are experiencing alone.
In truth, we have never felt isolated during these years of wandering. There have certainly been times when we were far from familiar faces. Some of the places we have stayed were wonderfully remote. There were stretches when days passed with very few face-to-face conversations with anyone other than each other. Yet through this daily connection with all of you, there was always a sense of community surrounding us.
As we mentioned previously, we actually began writing seven months before we left Minnesota on October 31, 2012. During that time, we were in the middle of preparing for one of the biggest life changes imaginable. We wanted to share the process as it unfolded. The excitement. The uncertainty. The practical challenges of letting go of the life we had known for decades.
Those months were filled with sorting and making decisions about what truly mattered. Our goal was to leave unencumbered by possessions so we could step into this new chapter with a sense of freedom.
Even today, we still don’t have a storage unit waiting for us. Every photo album, piece of memorabilia, and sentimental item was passed along to our kids and grandkids. We wanted those memories to stay within the family rather than sitting unseen in boxes.
At the same time, we carefully scanned every paper photograph we owned during those seven months of preparation. It was a time-consuming project, but one that preserved a lifetime of memories in a way we could carry with us digitally, no matter where we went.
Interestingly, although we often say we miss people, we never find ourselves missing any of the possessions we left behind. Not once have we wished we had kept a particular piece of furniture or some forgotten object stored away in a box.
Everything we truly need travels with us.
Now, to be clear, we do not travel light as some people imagine. We are not backpackers moving from place to place with only the bare essentials. Over time, we have discovered certain items that make this nomadic lifestyle more comfortable and manageable. Some of those things might seem unnecessary to others, but for us, they have become part of the routine that allows us to live well wherever we land.
When we stay in remote locations, which happens quite often, those familiar items become even more important. Many of the things we use regularly are not available in small towns or rural areas. Carrying them with us ensures that we can continue living in a way that feels comfortable and sustainable.
In a sense, that is the small price we pay for a lifestyle that has given us so much freedom and adventure.
But when everything is stripped down to its simplest truth, the conclusion is very easy to express.
We are happy.
Still happy.
And incredibly grateful that you continue to travel along with us.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, March 16, 2016:
Anzac Park memorials…More new photos as we experience Tasmania…
In the coastal town of Ulverstone, where the Leven River winds its way gently toward the sea, there is a park that quietly brings together history, community, and the simple pleasure of spending time outdoors. Anzac Park sits along the riverbank, a stretch of green lawn, pathways, and trees that seems to invite both reflection and recreation. It is the kind of place where locals walk their dogs, children race toward the playground, and visitors pause to take in the view of the water moving slowly past.
It is easy to see why this park is one of the town’s most loved gathering spots. The lawns roll gently toward the river, with picnic tables and shaded areas where families settle in for a relaxed lunch or evening barbecue. The trees provide shelter from the Tasmanian sun and, on cooler days, a quiet place to sit and watch the clouds drift overhead. A walking path winds through the park, following the river and offering glimpses of boats, birds, and the changing light across the water.
The setting alone would make it worth a visit, but Anzac Park also carries a deeper meaning. Like many places across Australia, it serves as a memorial space honoring those who served in the nation’s military conflicts. The park itself was established as a tribute to these men and women, making it both a place of remembrance and a living part of the community.
One of the park’s notable features is its dramatic memorial staircase, constructed between 1968 and 1970. The project was largely a community effort, with local residents and organizations contributing labor and resources to bring the structure to life. Thousands of hours of volunteer work and large amounts of concrete and steel went into building the steps, which lead visitors down toward the river and the park’s central areas. We didn’t tackle those stairs; instead, we parked at the lower parking lot with easy access to the walking path.
Standing near these steps, it is easy to imagine how much pride the community must have felt when the project was completed. There is something special about structures built through local effort. They carry the fingerprints of the people who live there, the quiet dedication of neighbors working together for something lasting.
Scattered throughout the park are several memorial elements that reinforce its purpose as a place of remembrance. Among them is the South African War Memorial, which commemorates the soldiers who served in the Boer War between 1899 and 1902. Over the years, this monument has been relocated a few times as the town developed, eventually finding a home within Anzac Park, where it continues to honor those early soldiers.
Despite its historical significance, the park is far from solemn or quiet at all times. In fact, it often feels lively and welcoming. Families gather around the barbecue areas while children head straight for the playground. One of the most recognizable pieces of playground equipment has long been the rocket-ship structure, a nostalgic feature that generations of local children remember climbing, sliding, and imagining their way through. Community discussions in recent years have even focused on restoring and upgrading the beloved rocket ship so it can continue entertaining future generations.
Events have also brought people together here. At times, the park has hosted community festivals and gatherings that fill the lawns with music, food, and laughter. When the weather cooperates, the combination of open green space and river views creates an ideal setting for a relaxed celebration.
For visitors passing through Ulverstone, Anzac Park offers something that many travelers appreciate: a place that feels authentic. It is not overly polished or designed purely for tourism. Instead, it reflects the character of the town itself. Locals walk here, children play here, and memorial services remind everyone of the history that shaped the community.
Sitting on a bench near the river, watching the water drift slowly toward Bass Strait, we got the sense that this park holds many stories. Some belong to soldiers remembered in stone. Others belong to families who have spent countless afternoons here.
And perhaps that is what makes Anzac Park special. It is not just a park, and it is not just a memorial. It is a place where remembrance, everyday life, and the beauty of Tasmania’s northwest coast come together in a way that feels natural and enduring.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, March 17, 2016:
Finally, a wildlife fix in Tamania…Today is our 14th anniversary of posting…
When we returned from dinner on Friday evening around 8:30, the night was quiet, as small coastal towns often are after dark. The streets around us were nearly empty, the air cool and still, and the sound of waves from the nearby shoreline drifted through the darkness. As soon as we pulled into the drive and I opened the car door, I heard something scrambling across the roof of the house. The sound was quick and purposeful, the unmistakable scurry of an animal moving across the metal roofing above us.
I froze halfway out of the car and looked up.
Within seconds, I spotted the creature clinging to the eaves of the house. Its body was stretched along the edge of the roofline, its long tail wrapped around a beam, as it paused to observe us below. In the dim outdoor light, I could see its round eyes reflecting toward us, alert and curious.
Tom came around the front of the car and followed my gaze upward.
“Back away carefully,” he said in a calm but serious voice. “If it’s a Tasmanian Devil, it could be dangerous.”
I understood his concern. After all, we are visitors here, still learning which animals are harmless and which ones deserve a little distance. The wild creatures of Tasmania are fascinating but unfamiliar to us, and caution always seems wise.
Still, curiosity got the better of me.
The animal wasn’t moving much now, simply watching us as if we were the unusual ones. I could feel that familiar pull that comes whenever we encounter a new creature, unexpected while traveling. These are the moments that stay with you long after the suitcases are unpacked and the photographs are sorted.
I slowly stepped back just enough to get a clearer view while reaching for my phone.
Tom watched carefully, clearly prepared to remind me again to keep my distance if the animal decided to climb down or come closer. But it stayed right where it was, balanced comfortably along the edge of the roof as though it had spent many evenings there observing the humans below.
I managed to snap a few photos before it shifted slightly and disappeared along the roofline, moving with surprising grace.
Inside the house, still talking and excited about our unexpected visitor, I posted one of the photos on Facebook. Living and traveling abroad has created a wonderful community of people who are always eager to share knowledge, especially when it comes to local wildlife. I suspected someone would quickly identify our mysterious rooftop guest.
Sure enough, the responses began arriving almost immediately.
Several Australians wrote to tell me that the animal in the photo was not a Tasmanian Devil at all. Instead, they explained that it was a Tasmanian Brushtail Possum described as follows:
Fun evening out with nomads like us!…
Travel has an interesting way of bringing people together, often in the most unexpected places. Last night was one of those occasions that reminded me how small the world can feel, even when we are thousands of miles from home.
We met Jennifer and Ryan, a couple Tom had connected with through a Facebook group for travelers. Someone in the group had asked where people would be in a few weeks, and Tom happened to mention that we would be spending time in Penguin. Jennifer and Ryan replied that they would be here as well, although only briefly. With nothing more than that simple exchange, a plan was made to meet for drinks and dinner.
When we arrived, it felt as though we were greeting old friends rather than people we had never met before. Almost immediately, we discovered a fun coincidence…they were both from Minnesota, which gave us an instant connection and plenty to talk about right from the start. Something is comforting about sharing familiar reference points, even when you are standing in a small coastal town on the northern shore of Tasmania.
Of course, our conversation quickly expanded far beyond Minnesota. Like us, they have spent a great deal of time traveling, and it seemed that every destination one of us mentioned sparked another story from someone else. Countries we had visited overlapped again and again. At one point, they mentioned their cruise to Antarctica, which naturally led to more enthusiastic comparisons of icy landscapes, wildlife sightings, and the kind of surreal beauty that only exists in those remote corners of the world.
The conversation bounced back and forth like a ping pong ball. One story led to another, which led to laughter, which then reminded someone of yet another adventure somewhere else. It is always such a pleasure to talk with people who understand that particular curiosity about the world, the constant pull to see what lies beyond the next horizon.
We met at five in the afternoon for happy hour, and before long, we ordered dinner. Somewhere along the way, I forgot to take photos of the food, which is unusual for me these days. I suppose that says something about how engaged I was in the conversation.
What I ordered turned out to be an unusual twist on a familiar dish. I ordered nachos with the chips served separately on the side. Instead of the typical pile of tortilla chips layered with toppings, the bowl contained shredded pot roast topped with melted cheese, guacamole, salsa, and sour cream. The chips sat in their own basket beside it.
In the end, I never ate a single chip. The bowl itself was satisfying on its own. It was hearty and flavorful, the kind of dish that feels comforting after a cool evening along the Tasmanian coast. The basket of chips, however, did not go to waste. I pushed them toward the center of the table, and the three of them happily munched their way through the entire bowlful.
Before we knew it, the evening had slipped away. We had arrived at five, but by eight thirty we were already back at the house. It was the perfect amount of time to enjoy good company without turning the night into something exhausting.
Once home, Tom and I settled in to watch an episode of The Traitors, which has become our little evening ritual. Not long after the episode ended, I headed off to bed.
Unfortunately, sleep did not come easily. It turned into one of those restless nights where you drift in and out without ever feeling fully settled. Today, I am feeling its effects. Between making pizza for Tom and preparing a seafood dish for myself, I find that I am dragging my feet more than usual.
Still, tomorrow is another day, and I suspect a good night’s sleep will set everything right again. Besides, we returned home last night after seeing something quite special at the wildlife department, a thrill for both of us. Tomorrow I will share that story, along with a stunning photo, because it was one of those moments that remind us once again why we love being here and traveling the world.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago, March 14, 2016:
