We woke up to the most spectacular show of colour over Brady’s Lake. The sky put on a performance of deep oranges and soft purples that reflected perfectly on the water. It was one of those rare, still mornings where we felt like the only two people left in the world. Steve sat there with his coffee, just watching the light change, while Lisa made sure we didn't miss a single moment of the glow.
After we’d had our fill of the sunrise, we headed over to Tarraleah. We’d thought about picking up a few supplies there, but it turns out the place is a bit of a ghost town! The resort is a beautiful spot with its crisp white buildings and blue trim, and the hedges are so perfectly manicured they look like they’ve been trimmed with nail scissors. But it was completely empty. We wandered around the grounds for a bit, feeling a little like we’d stumbled onto a film set after everyone had gone home. Just nearby, we saw the massive steel pipes that feed the Tungatinah Power Station, which really gives you an idea of the scale of the work they do up here in the highlands.
We decided to stretch our legs on the walk to Wilsons Falls. It was a lovely, gentle track that led us into a pocket of bushland that felt surprisingly like home. We both remarked on how much the trees and the smell of the air reminded us of the bush in the Southwest of WA. The falls themselves were tucked away in a lush little gully, the water dropping down over the dark rocks into a pool surrounded by bright green ferns. It was a very peaceful spot to just stop and listen to the water.
Later, we made our way to Bronte Park, which holds a special bit of significance—it’s the exact geographical centre of Tasmania. There is a stone monument marking the spot right on the edge of a very pretty lagoon. It’s a quiet, unassuming place, but standing there makes you realise just how much water is moved around this part of the world to keep the lights on.
The monument is a tribute to the early surveyors who mapped out this rugged country back in the mid-1800s. Lisa spent a good few minutes reading the plaque, which is etched with the history of the men who climbed these peaks and measured the land when there were no roads to speak of. It’s a lovely touch to have their story recorded right there in the middle of the state they helped define.
The little village of Bronte Park itself is quite charming—it feels exactly like a small fishing village, just without the salt air or the ocean. We drove out to the dam nearby to see another impressive bit of engineering. Because the river system didn't naturally move the water between the lakes and lagoons where it was needed, they built these massive concrete channels to redirect it. Seeing the water rushing through those man-made paths toward the spillways is a real reminder of how much effort went into taming this landscape.
By the time we got back to our camp at Brady’s Lake, the wind had completely dropped away. Since it was so calm, we finally decided to get the drone up into the air to see things from a different perspective. Looking down at the deep blue of the lake and the way it sits nestled into the hills, you really get a sense of the vastness of the Tasmanian highlands. It’s a beautiful, wild part of the country, and we feel very lucky to be sitting right in the heart of it.
