We’re loving our national parks to death

Once unspoiled beauties, now tourism hotspots, writes Bob Holderness-Roddam

The Mercury’s recent survey result, showing that almost three-quarters of respondents were against developments in our national parks, and that more than 60 per cent were concerned about the large number of tourists: Yes, we are loving our beautiful national parks to death.

A sad example is Freycinet National Park and the peninsula located north of Schouten Island and contained within the park.

Shortly after I arrived in Tasmania as a “10-pound Pom” in 1966, I joined the Launceston Walking Club. This was a wonderful group of people and I made many friends; indeed, two became my best man and groomsman at my wedding in 1970. But I digress.

Back to Freycinet National Park. One of my early trips with the walking club was a working bee on a track the club’s members were building along the length of the peninsula. The deal was that if you signed up as a participant, you only paid half the normal fare on the club bus.

We arrived late on the Friday night and slept somewhere – and were up early the next morning to be ferried by a local fisherman into the Hazards Beach, where the trackwork had already reached.

I was blown away by the beauty of the place, the warm sea with dolphins and the wonderful smell of eucalypts. Nirvana. I quickly paid the other half of my bus fare, and set out to explore. Unfortunately, I hadn’t factored in the Tasmanian sun, and got bad sunburn. No worries, one of the lady members was a nurse and she applied a liberal quantity of sunburn lotion.

Suffice it to say that I returned to Freycinet on many walking club trips, and later with my wife and kids for many happy holidays. However, outside the Easter and Christmas/ New Year holidays, there were seldom any other people there.

In 1973 and 1974 I had the opportunity to spend a lot of time at Freycinet, often on my own, filming the scenery and wildlife. I have wonderful memories of the sea eagles that regularly flew overhead as they hunted for their prey.

On one extended trip an eagle ray regularly patrolled along Hazards Beach.

One magical night I was sitting on the beach at the Lagunta Creek campsite when a family of water rats appeared and started to play chasings only a few feet from me. This went on for several minutes, before they set off to forage in the surf. It was on this trip that a large flock of yellow-tailed black cockatoos flew over from Swansea and settled in near my campsite one evening. They clearly hadn’t got the message about not talking after lights out – not much sleep that night.

One Easter I poked my head out of my tent at about 4.30 one morning to see a Tasmanian devil polishing off the remains of someone’s leftover dinner.

Other wildlife encounters were less sought after.

One evening our youngest child accompanied me on a short walk up Lagunta Creek to fill a billy with water. As we started back to the camp site, he said “I’ll race you back, Dad”, before a tiger snake slithered across the track between us. No mobile phones in those days to summon help.

On another occasion I was walking through the bush towards the remains of Amos Cook’s shack.

As I stepped into a clearing I saw a tiger snake with its head raised up in a threatening pose. When it comes to venomous snakes, I’m a practising coward. Cook’s shack could wait another day.

While the wildlife experiences were memorable, there is more to Freycinet. It was a most important site for our First Nation’s people, with ample evidence from their middens demonstrating their shellfish diet.

In the 1800s it was a base for the bay whalers, who hunted the southern right whale, to its considerable detriment. There are still signs of the whalers’ activities on Freycinet today. There are stone fireplaces where the try pots were used to remove and render the seal blubber, and the foundations from their camp and lookout on the high

But now, I fear the mass tourism market has seriously damaged Freycinet’s character.

BOB HOLDERNESS-RODDAM

ground at the southern end of Wineglass Bay were visible in the 1970s.

Depending upon recent tides and the weather, large whale vertebrae may be visible.

In the early days, Amos Cook had a small farm on the peninsula, with ships delivering items and picking up livestock for market. The remains of his shack are still visible, and until the early 1970s an old dray wheel was leaning against a tree at Cooks Beach. Sadly, this disappeared in a case of senseless vandalism.

But now, I fear the mass tourism market has seriously damaged Freycinet’s character.

Several years ago our family visited Freycinet over the new year break. Shock, horror – we should have known better. There must have been 50 people at Wineglass Bay, many more interested in the wine they were consuming than the bay. That was my last visit to this despoiled gem.