Anzac Park memorials…More new photos as we experience Tasmania…

The fountain in Anzac Park, located in Ulverstone, Tasmania, is the MH Wright Memorial Fountain. It is situated within a well-regarded family-oriented park on the banks of the Leven River, often frequented for its playgrounds (including a noted “rocket” ship) and picnic areas.

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.

The long stairway from the upper road to Anzac Park. We drove down to the parking lot and walked for the photo ops.

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 river that runs through Anzac Park in Ulverstone, Tasmania, is the Leven River. The park is situated directly on the banks of this river, near the town center and the river’s mouth, where it meets the Bass Strait.

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.

Anzac Park in Ulverstone, Tasmania, is a highly regarded, well-maintained riverside space featuring a respectful Kokoda memorial and strong community, RSL-supported war history. Visitors praise it as a fantastic, quiet family stop with a popular, modern playground (including a large slide), BBQ facilities, and scenic, paved walks along the Leven River.

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.

Dedicated to the soldiers who served and gave their lives in Vietnam, as presented in Anzac Park.

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.

Recognition for those who served and gave their lives in Korea.

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.

A gardener near the play area in Anzac Park.

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.

We always take a photo when we see a seagull standing atop a post.

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:

This cockatoo stopped by for a visit, alighting atop Bob, our landlord’s medicinal Papaw tree in the yard in Fairlight (Sydney) Australia. For more photos, please click here.

Our 14 year anniversary of posting…Miscellaneous new photos…

A man was on a paddleboard on the ocean in front of our house with his dog! Zoom in to see that the dog was wearing a life jacket.

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.

Trains pass by several times a day. We don’t mind the sound at all.

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.

We pulled into a driveway to capture this unusual succulent plant. Can anyone identify this?

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.

An artfully painted water tower in Ulverstone.

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.

Three seagulls are resting in a parking lot.

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:

I purchased two bottles of New Zealand wine and have yet to finish either of them over the past week. Tom doesn’t drink wine. For more photos, please click here.

Finally, a wildlife fix in Tamania…Today is our 14th anniversary of posting…

At first, I thought this was a Tasmanian Devil, but I was so wrong. This is a Tasmanian Brushtail Possum that greeted us when we returned from dining out.

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:

These unusual New Zealand mushrooms appear translucent. For more photos, please click here.

Fun evening out with nomads like us!…

Tom connected with this lovely couple, Jennifer and Ryan, also from Minnesota, who became home-free nomads at a young age two years ago.

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.

Ryan and Jennifer are having the time of their lives!

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.

Tom was enjoying being out and about and meeting new people. I felt the same way.

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.

Last night, for the first time in years, I drank two glasses of 3.5% low carb beer. Since we haven’t had any alcohol lately, today I have a terrible hangover. I won’t be drinking beer again!

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:

In New Zealand, these beautiful clusters of trees create a nice foreground for our photos at sunset. For more photos, please click here.

Sightseeing in Tasmania continues…More new photos…

It was a little hazy, but the views were picturesque.

Two days ago, we set off in the little car to visit Braddons Lookout, a place we had read about more than once while exploring the northwest coast of Tasmania. With each mention, we became more curious. Travelers and locals alike described the sweeping view and the quiet sense of space that seems to stretch forever along this coastline. It sounded like the kind of place that rewards a short drive and a few lingering minutes standing at the railing.

We certainly were not disappointed.

The scenery was exquisite including the ocean, from this high point.

The drive itself is part of the pleasure when exploring this part of the island. The roads gently wind through rolling farmland, past grazing sheep and sturdy farmhouses that appear to have weathered decades of coastal wind. Patches of forest rise and fall along the hillsides, and every so often the deep blue of the sea appears in the distance, like a quiet promise waiting just ahead.

As we climbed the final stretch toward the lookout, the air seemed to open up. The road grew steeper, and the trees thinned just enough to hint that we were approaching something special. When we pulled into the small parking area and stepped out of the car, the view revealed itself all at once.

Sign at Braddon’s Lookout.

Standing there at the designated lookout area, it is impossible not to pause for a moment.

Tasmania is so much about scenery that feels untouched and expansive. Hills roll toward the sea in soft layers, streams carve their quiet paths through valleys, and the coastline stretches on in a way that feels endless. Even after weeks here, we still find ourselves stopping in amazement at views like this.

Another sign at the overlook site.

From the lookout, we could see the surrounding countryside unfolding in every direction. Green farmland dotted with trees spread inland, while the coastal towns appeared as small clusters of rooftops far below. In the distance, various bodies of water curved gently north and south, fading into a hazy blue sky.

When we were in Tasmania ten years ago at this time of year, the grass was green after more rain.

A cool breeze drifted across the hilltop, carrying the faint scent of salt and eucalyptus. It was one of those simple sensory moments that seem to define travel memories more than anything else. The temperature was mild, the sky partly clear but hazy at a distance, and the horizon stretched out so far that it almost invited your thoughts to wander with it.

We leaned against the railing for quite some time, simply taking it all in. We were the only visitors to the lookout until one tourist arrived, just as we were leaving.

Braddon’s Lookout provided some stunning views.

Moments like this remind me why Tasmania holds such a special place in our hearts. The island does not shout for attention. Instead, it quietly offers scenes of beauty around nearly every bend in the road. One minute you are driving past farmland, and the next you are standing high above the sea, gazing out over miles of coastline that feel both wild and welcoming.

Stunning views from every angle.

Eventually, we returned to the car, though neither of us seemed eager to leave just yet. Tom took a few final photos while I lingered near the edge of the lookout, committing the view to memory. No photograph can fully capture the feeling of standing there with the wind brushing past and the views stretching endlessly.

The drive back felt just as enjoyable as the journey up. As we descended the hill, the view slowly disappeared behind us, replaced once again by farmland and winding coastal roads.

Still, the memory of that wide-open vista stayed with us the rest of the day.

Another expansive view.

In Tasmania, it often feels as though nature is constantly inviting you to pull over, step out of the car, and simply look around. At Braddons Lookout, that invitation is impossible to resist. And like so many places on this remarkable island, it left us grateful that curiosity led us there.

Tonight we are meeting Jennifer and Ryan for drinks and dinner, a couple we have never met. Jennifer had responded to Tom, after a simple question in a Facebook group that Tom follows, asking members where they would be in two weeks. Tom replied that we would be in Penguin, Tasmania, and she quickly responded that they would be here as well. With a few friendly messages back and forth, a plan was made to meet tonight for dinner and drinks at Neptune Grand Hotel Bistro. Moments like this remind us that travel often brings unexpected connections, turning strangers from across the world into new acquaintances with whom we have an opportunity to share a meal. Delightful!

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, March 13, 2016:

We never figured out the source of the smoke in these photos in New Zealand, when the road was closed for a bike race. For more photos, please click here.

Sightseeing in Tasmania continues…

Not our photo, although we took the others below of the Three Sisters. We couldn’t get close enough for such a photo because of traffic on the narrow, two-lane road.

Not far from the quiet seaside town of Penguin lies one of those places that manages to feel both humble and magnificent at the same time. The Three Sisters of Tasmania sit just offshore near Table Cape, rising from the restless waters of the Bass Strait like silent guardians that have watched the coastline for thousands of years.

At first glance, the Three Sisters appear almost modest. They are not towering cliffs or dramatic mountains. Instead, there are three weathered sea stacks, separated from the mainland by centuries of wind, waves, and erosion. Yet the moment you see them, especially from the lookout along Table Cape, you realize how special they are. Standing there, looking out over the vast expanse of ocean, the three stone pillars seem to tell a story without saying a single word.

These same railroad tracks are across the Main Road, where our holiday home overlooks the sea. We see a train a few times each day, returning hours later. Of course, Tom, as a former railroad worker, enjoys seeing the train.

We drove out toward Table Cape on a cool morning a few days ago, the kind of Tasmanian day when the sky seems to stretch endlessly, and the air carries the scent of the sea. The farmland surrounding the cape was dotted with grazing cattle and open green fields that rolled gently toward the cliffs. It felt peaceful in that way many places in Tasmania do, where life moves at a comfortable pace and nature quietly takes center stage.

As we approached the edge of the cape, the view suddenly opened up. The land simply stops, replaced by dramatic cliffs that drop down to the churning waters below. Out there, not far from shore but far enough to stand alone, were the Three Sisters.

These same railroad tracks are across the Main Road, where our holiday home overlooks the sea. We see a train a few times each day, returning hours later. Of course, Tom, as a former railroad worker, enjoys seeing the train.

Each of the stacks has its own character. One stands slightly taller and more solid than the others, while the remaining two appear more slender and worn by time. The rock itself consists of soft shades of brown and grey, with patches of green where plants have found a way to cling to the stone. Waves crash endlessly at their bases, slowly shaping them, year after year.

It is easy to imagine what this coastline must have looked like long ago. The Three Sisters were once part of the mainland, connected to the cliffs of Table Cape. Over countless years, the ocean carved away at the softer sections of rock, gradually separating these pillars from the land. What remains today are the last fragments of that ancient connection, standing proudly in the water.

It’s been cloudy and rainy most days since we arrived at this house. Today, the sun is shining, and we’ll head out again soon.

From the lookout above, we could hear the distant roar of the waves far below. Seabirds drifted on the coastal winds, occasionally circling the stacks before gliding back toward the cliffs. There is something deeply calming about standing in a place like this, where the landscape reminds you just how powerful and patient nature truly is, particularly the sea.

Visitors often come here for photographs, especially at sunrise or sunset when the light casts long golden tones across the sea. But even without a camera, it is a place worth lingering. The view encourages you to slow down and simply take it in.

What I found most striking was the sense of quiet permanence. While towns grow, roads change, and travelers like us come and go, these stone formations remain, slowly evolving but never in a hurried manner. They have witnessed storms, calm seas, migrating birds, and generations of people pausing along the cliffs to admire them.

Although it’s cloudy and overcast, the scenery along the coast, near Three Sisters is still breathtaking.

In a region already filled with beautiful landscapes, the Three Sisters stand out not because they are the largest or most famous landmark in Tasmania, but because of their quiet presence. They are simple, natural sculptures created by time itself.

And sometimes, those are the places that stay with you the longest.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, March 12, 2016:

Later, upon returning to our holiday home in New Zealand, we laughed at this photo that appears to be what??? A six-legged cow? No. The photo is a fluke which one cow standing behind the other. Belted Galloway cattle, affectionately known as “Oreo cows” or “Belties,” are a Scottish heritage beef breed defined by their thick, double-layered, waterproof coats and a distinctive white stripe, or “belt,” around their midsections. They are hardy, polled (hornless), and efficient foragers known for producing high-quality, low-fat, and tender meat. We didn’t stay long for better photos when they began showing a few signs of aggression. For more photos, please click here.

Sighting with lots of new photos…Penguin Undercover Market and more to come…

There we dozens of booths offering a wide variety of items.

On Sunday morning, we drove a short distance to visit the Penguin Undercover Market, open only on Sundays from 9:00 am to 3:00 pm. The sky hung low with soft gray clouds, and the air carried that cool coastal freshness that seems to define this part of Tasmania. We had no particular agenda when we left the house.

The Penguin Undercove Market is busy every Sunday from 9:00 am to 3:00 pm.

The market simply sounded like a pleasant way to spend an hour or two, and since it was so close to where we are staying, it felt almost like a neighborhood gathering we could not resist exploring. Then again, everything in Penguin is close, with a population of only 4132 residents.

The equivalent of a food court. Tom checked out the doughnuts on the far right.

From the moment we approached the building, we could hear the gentle hum of voices drifting outside the entrance. Inside, the space was lively and full of people. Locals moved slowly through the aisles, chatting with vendors and greeting one another with the easy familiarity of a small town where many faces are recognized. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, the sort of environment where no one seems in a hurry.

It even had some carnival-type games.

Row after row of tables displayed an impressive variety of handmade goods. It quickly became clear that the market was less about food or produce and far more about creativity. There were beautifully knitted scarves and sweaters in rich earthy colors, carefully stitched quilts folded neatly on tables, and racks of clothing made by local artisans. One table featured handmade soaps arranged in tidy rows, unwrapped, inviting lookers to smell the delicious scents. Another displayed wooden bowls and cutting boards that had clearly been crafted with patience and pride.

Each Sunday there’s a live band.

Although we admired many of these items, we both knew there was nothing we truly needed or intended to buy. Living the way we do, constantly traveling and mindful of the limited space in our luggage, we have learned to appreciate beautiful things without feeling compelled to own them. Still, that did not diminish the enjoyment of walking slowly through the market and seeing what people had created.

It’s fun to look at “stuff,” but there was nothing we wanted pr needed to buy.

What struck me most was the pride each vendor seemed to take in their work. Many stood behind their tables, eager to chat, explaining how they made their products or where their materials came from. Some spoke with quiet enthusiasm about the hours spent knitting, carving, sewing, or painting. Others simply smiled warmly as visitors paused to examine their displays. It felt less like a commercial marketplace and more like a community showcase of personal talents.

Cold weather hats and various types of clothing.

The crowd itself added another layer of charm. Families wandered together, children occasionally tugging at their parents’ sleeves when something colorful caught their eye. Older couples moved carefully from table to table, sometimes stopping to talk with friends they had clearly known for years. Conversations drifted through the room in soft waves of laughter and casual storytelling.

We giggled when we walked past the furniture. We certainly didn’t need any of this!

We took our time, strolling slowly along each aisle, pausing often just to look. Even without buying anything, the experience felt satisfying. There is something comforting about witnessing the demeanor of local life in places like this. Markets reveal so much about a community. They show what people enjoy making, what they value, and how they connect with one another.

Leather goods and miscellaneous.

After wandering through the entire market, we stepped back outside into the cool afternoon air. The street felt quiet compared to the lively chatter inside. As we made our way to a local market for a few salad ingredients, which happens to be open on Sunday, we both agreed that although we had not purchased a single item, the visit had been entirely worthwhile.

Fishing tackle.

Sometimes the simple act of observing a community gathering is enough. The Penguin Undercover Market offered a small glimpse into the creativity and friendliness of this charming coastal town, and for us, that was more than enough reason to be glad we went.

Back at the house, I made a big salad for dinner, carefully washing the pesticide-free ingredients. I couldn’t help but smile. This simple, uncluttered life is exactly our style.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, March 11, 2016:

This cria was named after Tom, “Minnesota” after we watched over the pregant mom alpacas when the owners went on holiday. For more, please click here.

More new photos…Busy morning booking future plans…

It was challenging to take a good photo of this body of water when we couldn’t stop on the narrow road due to traffic.

This morning I surprised myself by jumping out of bed at 7:00 am, much earlier than my usual start. Since I tend to stay up quite late most nights, early mornings are not always my strong suit. But today I woke up with a sense of purpose and a little burst of energy, eager to get started on cleaning the house.

We both like to keep the place tidy, especially when we are staying somewhere as lovely as this. It feels like a small way of showing respect for the home and also makes the space more enjoyable for us each day. Tom tackled the vacuuming and gathered up the trash while I worked my way through the bathroom and kitchen. After that, I dusted every surface I could find. It always amazes me how quickly dust appears, even when we feel as though we have just cleaned.

A reservoir on a farm. 

By the time we finished, the house felt fresh and comfortable again. There is something deeply satisfying about completing those simple chores. Laundry will have to wait for another day. Today is cool and very overcast, only about 60F (16C). We have learned that doing laundry here is best saved for a sunny day when everything can dry properly outdoors. There is no rush. One advantage of our lifestyle is that we can wait for the right weather rather than forcing things along.

Food preparation today was blissfully simple. We still have plenty of delicious leftovers waiting in the refrigerator, so the only task in the kitchen was to prepare a large salad to go with dinner tonight. After the busy morning of cleaning, it felt good knowing that cooking would be easy.

Once the house was sparkling again, we sat down together in the lounge room, overlooking the sea, with our laptops to tackle something far less exciting but very necessary. It was time to begin booking our flights to South Africa.

St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Penguin, Tasmania, was officially opened on March 7, 1909. Based on this date, the church is 117 years old as of March 2026. The foundation stone for the King Edward Street building was laid on October 18, 1908.

Our departure will be from Minnesota after two special family events that we would not miss for anything. Our grandson Miles will be graduating, and shortly after that, we will attend another graduation celebration for Megyn, the daughter of our son Greg’s girlfriend, Heather. It will be wonderful to be there with both of the kids as they celebrate these milestones. Those moments with family are priceless.

Since we are staying a few extra nights in Minnesota to attend Megyn’s graduation party, we were grateful to use our Marriott Bonvoy points to cover those additional hotel nights. That felt like a small victory amid so many travel expenses. Thankfully, we had already paid for the main hotel stay and the rental car in Minnesota earlier, so those costs are behind us and do not hit quite as hard right now.

With our revised departure date set for June 9, we focused on flights from Minneapolis, Minnesota, to Nelspruit, South Africa. That airport is the closest gateway to Marloth Park, where we will spend several months once again. As we searched through the options, we quickly noticed that the prices were higher than in past years.

View of a huge tree and penguin trash cans on Main Road.

The total airfare for both of us came to about US $4200, roughly AUD $5740. That is several hundred dollars more than what we have paid in prior years. Still, after looking at all the options, it was clearly the best route available, so we booked it. This time we won’t have that awful nine-hour layover in London; instead, we will have a 3½ hour layover in Atlanta, a much easier option.

There was one bright spot in the process. Through the flight booking, we were able to add a rental car for our first three months in South Africa for an additional US $1350, AUD $1954. That works out to only about US $450, AUD $642 per month. In the United States or most other countries, that price would be almost unheard of, but in South Africa, we have consistently found rental cars to be much more affordable.

Soon, I will sit down and enter all of these updated details into our Cozy Calendar. It is the shared family calendar we have used for years to keep track of all our travel plans, bookings, confirmations, and important dates. With so many flights, hotels, and reservations scattered across different countries, having everything organized in one place has saved us countless headaches.

What may have been lush green hills are now brown due to the lack of rain in the spring.

Tomorrow, we will make a trip back to Ulverstone to do our grocery shopping. After that, we will stop at the butcher shop in Penguin to pick up the barramundi fish we ordered. We absolutely love preparing that fish. I coat the fillets in egg, then dredge them in seasoned coconut flour before gently sautéing them in coconut oil. The subtle coconut flavor pairs beautifully with the mild taste of the barramundi.

I suspect we will order it again before we leave.

With only thirty-four days left here in Penguin, we are savoring every moment. Tasmania has been as wonderful as we remember from ten years ago, in so many ways. This little town, with its quaint charm and relaxed pace, has truly captured our hearts. Each day we look out over the ocean and feel grateful for this chapter of our travels.

The stunning views, the friendly community, and the peaceful atmosphere of life here make this a special and memorable time we will not soon forget.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, March 9, 2016:

We got a kick out of watching these cows wander back and forth through the barren vineyards at Okurukuru  Vinyardin New Zealand… a great way to fertilize the soil. For more photos, please click here.

Out and about taking photos…Food photos…Why is cooking so much fun in Tasmania?…

Plains, tall grasses, and mountain-scape, typically seen in Tasmania.

Something is refreshing about simply getting in the car with no particular destination in mind, other than the hope of discovering a few worthwhile photo opportunities along the way. That’s exactly what we did yesterday—heading out for a leisurely drive through the countryside surrounding Penguin, camera ready, curiosity leading the way.

The landscape here is a patchwork of farmland that seems to roll endlessly toward the horizon. Wide green pastures, scattered farmhouses, and the occasional cluster of trees break up the scenery, while cattle and sheep graze as if they have all the time in the world. It’s the kind of countryside that begs to be photographed. Unfortunately, the logistics of doing so are not always quite so simple.

Cattle in the countryside.

Many of the roads winding through these rural areas are narrow two-lane stretches with just enough room for passing traffic. While the views are spectacular, there are surprisingly few safe places to pull over. More than once, we spotted a perfect photo: a hillside dotted with sheep, a weathered barn sitting proudly in a field, or distant mountains framed by soft clouds, only to realize there was no practical place to pull over.

It became something of a game between us. “Oh, look at that!” one of us would say, followed immediately by, “Too bad there’s nowhere to stop.” We laughed about it more than once, accepting that sometimes the most beautiful moments are meant to be enjoyed in passing rather than captured on camera.

I took this farm photo while we were moving.

Still, we managed to grab a few photos when small gravel turnouts appeared or when the road briefly widened enough to allow us to stop safely. Even when we couldn’t stop, the drive itself was rewarding. There’s a peaceful feeling to rural roads, the quiet hum of the car, the steady unfolding of scenery, and the sense that life out here moves at a gentle pace.

In many ways, the experience reminded us that not every adventure needs to be meticulously planned. Sometimes the simple act of exploring, of wandering through unfamiliar back roads, is enough.

This coming week, we plan to venture out even more, gradually exploring some of the popular attractions scattered throughout the region. A few local vineyards have already caught our attention, and we’re looking forward to visiting them, learning a little about the area’s wines, and perhaps enjoying a tasting or two along the way.

Red Flowering Gum tree, which produces vibrant clusters of red, orange, or pink flowers. These native trees are a popular, hardy, and spectacular feature in Australian gardens and streetscape.

For now, though, we’re grateful to be here, discovering the beauty around Penguin one country road at a time. Even when the camera stays in our laps, the memories are already being made.

On another note, I find myself spending more time in the kitchen than usual these days. That may sound surprising for someone who has spent the past thirteen years traveling the world, often relying on restaurants, takeaways, and whatever simple meals we could pull together in small kitchens along the way. But here, something about the abundance of beautiful local food makes it almost impossible to resist the temptation to cook.

Close-up of blooms on the Red Flowering Gum tree.

Tasmania offers an incredible selection of fresh ingredients. Everywhere we turn, there are markets, farm stands, and local shops filled with organic produce, grass-fed meats, free-range chickens, and some of the most wonderful cheeses and dairy products we have encountered anywhere in the world. When such high-quality ingredients are readily available, it feels almost like a privilege to step into the kitchen and create something with them.

Tom has certainly been enjoying the benefits of this little cooking spree. Each morning, he starts the day with coffee topped with what they call double cream here. It is rich, thick, and wonderfully indulgent, and he looks forward to it the way some people look forward to dessert.

This dish’s recipe was featured in yesterday’s post here. It’s delicious and reheats perfectly in the microwave.

Over the past few days, I have also been making him a hearty breakfast of butter-sautéed halloumi cheese with a side of bacon. The halloumi browns beautifully in the pan, forming a golden crust while remaining soft and salty inside. The aroma alone is enough to make the kitchen feel warm and welcoming early in the morning. As shown in today’s photos, it has quickly become one of his favorite starts to the day.

Tom is not currently following the OMAD concept that I am practicing. For now, I am sticking with one meal a day, focusing on packing as much nutrition as possible into that single meal while maintaining a vigorous exercise routine. It works well for me, and I feel great doing it.

Yesterday’s anniversary dinner turned out wonderfully, and fortunately, there is plenty left for tonight and tomorrow as well. Whenever I make a more time-consuming recipe, like the recipe featured in yesterday’s post with the photo of the finished dish today, I always prepare a large enough batch to last for three evenings. It saves time later, and somehow the flavors seem even better on the second and third nights.

Tom’s breakfast of butter-sauteed halloumi cheese with a side of bacon.

Along with the dish, Tom enjoyed his with rice and a fresh salad. I kept mine a bit simpler with a small avocado, broccoli, and salad on the side. It was truly a treat.

After we finish this post and I complete my exercise routine, Tom will likely enjoy his usual nap. Early this afternoon, we plan to head out to the Penguin Undercover Market, which runs from nine in the morning until three in the afternoon each Sunday. We will be sure to take photos and share them tomorrow.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, March 8, 2016:

The noses and lips of the cria are pink until they mature. This alpaca cria is only 24 hours old, hugging close to mom. For more photos, please click here.