Late March to early April in Tasmania’s Huon Valley was warmer than I had imagined; while mornings were as crisp as the island’s famous apples and crackling fires beckoned at night, sunshine-filled days were perfect for road-tripping. Occasional moody skies only added to the visual theatre.
There are a scant handful of Australian regions I would choose to live in if I found reason to move from my current home, but there’s only one that I regularly return to—at least in my dreams. I recently had the opportunity to visit Tasmania’s peaceful, picturesque Huon Valley in person, and once again, it took my breath away.
I guess I knew it would based on previous visits, but this was a much deeper dive (and a decade down the track—how on earth did THAT happen?!) crafted by local intel channeled through Huon Valley Council, who completely understood what I was looking to explore for research—great places to stay for a relaxed road trip discovering food, wine, community, and incredible vistas.
They also invited me to several places which would not usually make it onto my radar. I’ve an adventurous spirit but my dodgy spine is an unwilling participant at times, forcing caution when it comes to more physical adventure – including hiking, canoeing, cycling and the like. It turns out I’ll be eternally grateful for the introduction to much more than I’d bargained for – but more on that later.
We picked up a hire car from Hobart airport and hit the road, softly… thanks to our superb driver (and host), public relations specialist Tracey Leitch of Impressions Marketing Communications, one of the best in the biz. Tracey grew up in Hobart, but her dad’s side of the family is pure Huon-folk, so needless to say, her intel, experience and love for the region runs deep.
PR’s are not mentioned in most travel stories because the job of travel publications is to help promote and provide information on destinations, not the people behind the scenes of a ‘famil’ (short for familiarisation, which offer travel writers insight into destinations for sharing with readers) but here, on my pages, I’m free to give credit where it’s due.
Travel PR’s play a key part in connecting people to place, and good ones are worth their weight in gold. A disinterested, inexperienced, bossy ferret who doesn’t listen to the writer’s needs can wreck an entire trip, wasting precious time and money… Ask any travel writer – we all have stories we can’t write about… But Tracey (and several others I’ll shout out to another time), totally knows her stuff, a total pro who is a pleasure to work with. (If you’re interested, there’s more detail from a freelance travel writer’s perspective at the end of this post).
As is typical, in my stream of consciousness style wafflings, I’ve wandered slightly off topic. Something else I can only do on my website (although my upcoming Japan book might beg to differ! And yes, that was an unabashed spruik!! Watch this space.).
Back on track, we’re already in Huonville – a 30-minute drive from Hobart city, and fortuitously close to lunchtime. Willie Smith’s Apple Shed provided a well-rounded pitstop for a bite to eat and breathing in our first real gulp of country air.
I was surprised by the stupendous variety of apples on display, some I’d never heard of, but my focus peaked when we were presented with fresh organic apple juice and tasting paddles of their delicious cider range.
Both met well with the wholesome dishes they were served alongside; think Cider roasted carrots with confit garlic hummus, za’atar, Tassie hazelnuts and lemon-chilli oil, or Chicken liver pate (made with Willie Smith’s Brandy!) accompanied by Summer Kitchen sourdough, housemade pickles and apple paste.
The restaurant is located inside a lofty warehouse space (old apple packing shed) brimming with nostalgia (check out the small museum adjacent to the dining area) with long tables for sharing plates and lounging nooks where we might well have spent the remainder of the afternoon had we not needed to press on. We missed out on their famous apple pie, but word on the street is, it’s ‘bonza’… (forgive me..).
Be sure to check out their stock of local pickles, preserves and house distilled apple-centric spirits for taking home – or stocking your holiday rental.
I’d been looking forward to our promised frolic through a fragrant field and was not disappointed when we pulled up at Lavender Goat Farm., in Petcheys Bay.
Our passionate host Ellen, made a tree change from Sydney in 2019 and, inspired by the lavender fields of Provence, planted the farm’s first crop (for aromatherapy and culinary purposes) in 2020. She now makes skincare for her Ecological Elegance branded products when not operating farm experiences.
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and we eagerly picked up our vintage baskets and waltzed into the shrubbery to hand-harvest our own Lavender. If only I’d had a pretty floral pinafore to complete the scene – but all black is my usual bag, so you’ll have to use your imagination.
Afterwards we fed apples to velveteen cows with hungry eyes and corralled goats with varying degrees of enthusiasm (theirs, not ours – we were all for it, but they responded well to the enticement of nibbles…), before fattening ourselves on an afternoon tea of finger sandwiches, candied baby apples, mini-scones with jam and cream – and chilled lavender, lemon balm and spearmint tea.
The heady scent of flower-water being processed through their handsome copper still was insane.
We were sad to wave goodbye to newfound friends, but had several accommodations to check out. Each night, the five of us were split between 3 different properties, but we spent time exploring them all – providing a wonderful overview of what’s on offer in the region.
One of the many beautiful things about the Huon Valley is the non-existence of soulless high-rise hotels with rooms on repeat. All accommodations we visited were boutique with plenty of character – vibing anywhere between homey cottage to sprawling movie-star villa with all the trimmings!
Cloud River Farm, a handsomely decorated cottage, straight from the pages of a lush lifestyle mag, is suitable for a couple or a solo traveller. The stylish Japan-black painted accommodation quietly backs onto a small fruit orchard and vegetable garden from where you can easily stroll to the property’s river for a spot of fishing, forest bathing or wildlife spotting. Late afternoons should be spent cosying up with local wine and a book. Take advantage of freshly laid eggs from their free-ranging chooks, homegrown herbs and tomatoes, or housemade lemon curd or preserves on toast for brekkie. The property’s owners are very close by, should you need them. My pics below do NOT do it justice – so please check out the link above – trust me.
Cygnet Old Bank, offers a small handful of quaintly decorated rooms inside, as the name suggests, a historic, former bank. I felt certain a visitation was on the cards that night, alas… my snoring was the only thing that woke me. Located in the popular town of Cygnet, the Old Bank makes a convenient base for visiting its shops, galleries and eateries (don’t miss Poolish & Co bakery) and for those planning a visit to Fat Pig Farm. I’m yet to get there myself – even though I’ve known Matthew since my Food Publisher days at Murdoch Books (… um… do I feel guilty? Yes, but when I’m back in Huon without a formal schedule – and I bloody well will be -I’m popping in to meet the family members – human, pig or other! Put the kettle on guys.). Downstairs, the Old Bank’s light-filled Conservatory Café is a popular spot for breakfast or coffee.
Coast House could be the home of your dreams, if it weren’t owned by someone else. This gorgeous, relaxed riverside dwelling built on a private peninsula, calls for a week’s worth of drop and flop with good mates, enjoying bush walks, drives to tiny villages, shopping at farmgate stalls or popping into Cygnet town – just 10 minutes away. Bedrooms are located on either side of the spacious open-plan kitchen-dining-lounging situation. Morning coffee and sundowners on the verandah overlooking the river should be factored into your schedule.
Barely setting down our bags, we were off to dinner in charming Huonville. We enjoyed a balmy evening in the garden of The Lost Captain Restaurant Taphouse under the greenery-covered trellis. Friendly, knowledgeable waitstaff had a well-balanced Whisky Sour in my hand in a jiffy, ready for our eclectic feast of contemporary snackery including TFC (Tikka fried chicken), Beetroot toasts (roast and pickled beets with fresh cheese curds), just caught local fish, duck fat potatoes, Peri Peri half chicken with salad greens and buttermilk dressing….. all hearty and sustaining, making good use of locally grown gear plucked from the region’s fertile soil and surrounds.
Arriving early the following morning for the group’s leisurely canoe experience with Esperance Adventures we noted a marked difference in the temperature from the day prior and kept warm with a tour of The Wooden Boat Centre– you certainly can’t help but admire the craftsmanship… if you’re super keen you can even take a course. The crew are gentle, salt of the earth types who host regular community dinners, set up in the workshop – I’m so down for that next trip! But not before I stick my nose into Frank’s Cider House and Café.
Whilst my travel mates kitted up in preparation for their adventuring I salivated over the morning light playing shadows on the mountains, swayed to the lilting rhythm of the moored vessels and sucked in as much pristine Huon air as I could fill my lungs with.
As they paddled off, I was whisked away, beneath the ‘ Huon Doona’ ( a thick, cool climate fog and part of the recipe for the region’s renowned sparkling and pinot noir) on route to Kate Hill Wine’s cellar door, one of several female wine makers in the area.
And yes, the F word IS relevant because a) it’s a male-dominated craft and b) I feel that women have a different touch when it comes to wine-making, often resulting in something more elegant and interesting than might be otherwise anticipated… I also read that in recent studies, women’s palates have proven to be better tasters. Prove me wrong?
I politely sipped my way through her wares… I mean, it was still early… but I was suddenly thankful I’d thrown down a toasted bacon and egg sarnie back at the Old Bank because the wines, and the cider (which transported me directly to Normandy) were delish, juicy and incredibly moreish… I purchased some ’22 Shiraz to share with my fellow writers, because they would surely need something warming after their morning exertion.
They had, however, been more than well looked after with a picnic stop of tea and brownies – baked by their guide no less! **Hot tip – white wine enthusiasts, wrap your laughing gear around some of Kate Hill’s ’21 Riesling and ’23 barrel-fermented Chardy (lovely and creamy, balanced by stone fruit characteristics, although I swear I could taste berries too).
We rolled on to the sweet village of Geeveston, where a culinary cluster fuels locals and savvy visitors.
Although we had no time for a cuppa, Communion café has an excellent rep and their sweet and savoury offerings look bloody delicious. It was also probably a good thing that Masaaki’s sushi was closed that day – it definitely would have stuffed up my pre-arranged lunch plans.
We did, however, pop into the brilliant Harvest and Light – a small batch picklery-gallery-winebar and shop (they also sell an impressive range of local Gin and Whisky, so let’s not forget those… ). It’s where the surrounding villagers drop in for a glass (they have beer too!), a nibble and a chat, which sounds like the place to be on any given evening. Much of the menu is also available for take away, making easy work of the charcuterie, cheese or grazing platters you’ll be whipping up in your holiday rental.
Shelves heave with beautifully preserved seasonal vegetables from surrounding farmlands (sometimes donated by domestic food gardens when in glut periods). I’m currently eating my way through some lush roasted zucchini in herbed olive oil, spiced cherries and pickled pumpkin. Thank you to whomever’s patch it was picked from.
I had to be forcibly yanked away to meet the group for lunch at Cinnamon and Cherry cafe – oh, who am I kidding, they had me at cinnamon.
This aromatic shop, run by a Turkish-Australian couple, is located opposite the historic Franklin Lockup (lucky my wine intake was several hours earlier or things might have gone awry) in where else but Franklin, another village with culinary cred.
The menu was extremely hard to choose from – savoury pide filled with eggplant and sumac/ garlic, tomato and olive/ or Paprika chicken. Boreks (spinach and cheese or slow-cooked lamb) – smothered with garlic yoghurt and melted paprika butter… hello!
Bulgar or Pilav bowls – brimming with currants and almonds were topped with various meats or veg. An absolute must is the meze tray to share (laden with housemade dips, olives, pickles and breads etc) … heaven.
And that’s before you get to the Turkish coffee and sweets. Tahini and pistachio helva, anyone? Perhaps apple pie with walnut ice cream, custard and cream floats your hand-crafted wooden boat… Oh my. I’m coming back for breakfast next trip… or Sunday Brunch. Maybe both.
I was ready for a snooze, but Tahune Adventures – River.Forest.Sky Walk was our next appointment.
It sounded a bit much for me, but FOMO runs through my veins, and I needed to walk off some of this deliciousness, so I pushed on. We were driven by golf cart (available to those with mobility issues) to the Tahune Air Walk where we strolled along a giant Meccano-set construction of bridges and walkways floating above the forest canopy – and it was sensational. I had not expected that I would be highly recommending it to EVERYONE I met for weeks afterwards!
I wasn’t so sure about the swinging bridges walk, but after some coaxing, I tested it over one of the rivers (even after it was wildly and purposely jiggled by one cheeky acquaintance…).
I was secretly stoked to be taken out of my comfort zone but I did not partake, except as videographer, in the Eagle Hang-gliding – although even that was far less scary than I’d imagined (at least from my position on the ground..).
Next up were two more accommodation site inspections.
First was my digs for the evening, which I generously shared with two others. The (large and very comfortable) Cape House by The Peninsula Experience is perched at the top of a hill with 360-degree tranquil views, across the D’Entrecasteaux Channel and the La Perouse mountains – just five minutes from the fishing village of Dover. This luxuriously appointed stay boasts several large bedrooms, a gourmet kitchen, a wrap-around balcony for taking morning coffee with the wildlife, and an inviting outdoor Jacuzzi area for late afternoon wind-downs and night skies. Not a neighbour in sight, it’s as if you have the Huon to yourselves. Later that night, we made good use of the lounge area by the fireplace – (there may have been some Kate Hill Wine involved).
The Voyager would be home for the night for the two remaining members of our party. The moment we stepped inside, several of us began devising solo writing retreats. This utterly romantic waterfront cottage evokes a time of yore, think rich timbers lifted by whitewashed walls, decorated with old seafaring paraphernalia, maps and artworks, vintage books and reclaimed furniture. Surrounded by Tasmanian wilderness on the banks of the Esperance River, perfumed with Eucalyptus, the Voyager wraps around you like the perfect hideaway should.
While it has 4 bedrooms, sleeping up to 8 people, my thoughts are – it might be a little cosy for a group that size if you were to stay more than a night or two. My preference would be a week or so for just 1-2 couples or a small handful of close friends. The outdoor space is worth taking advantage of – think an inviting firepit area for languid, life-affirming discussion and an alfresco bath and hammock for quieter moments of self-reflection. This is a property for kicking back in, cradled by the peace of the bush, napping in sun-drenched nooks, and savouring pots of tea, or several glasses of Tassies’ finest drop. A well-equipped kitchen offers quality cooking amenities and a sleek coffee machine. All fittings, soft furnishings and accents have been beautifully selected – it really is hard to tear yourself away… Unless it’s to visit nearby River-Run Lodge for a drink or a meal at their on-site tavern.
River-run’s accommodation is perfect for larger groups or families gatherings – rustic weddings, school reunions, yoga retreats etc – the vibe is very much cabin in the woods (minus the horror flick element) meets band-camp (minus the equally horrific shortsheeting of beds and seances gone wrong) – it was formerly a school camp site, and still has the bunk beds to prove it, but has been cleverly refurbished. Very nicely done indeed.
The Tavern, open to the public, is movie-set perfect with interiors to-die-for (and that’s not a horror story reference.. far from it). Their menu is small but just-right, including a couple of veggie options. I had the panfried Striped Trumpeter – a succulent, meaty fish, cooked to perfection. Go for an atmospheric twilight wander by the water’s edge before a pre-dinner gin sampling.
After caffeinating with the birds, we took a blissful 30-minute drive to Hastings Caves and Thermal Springs. We didn’t take the waters on this occasion, instead, we headed directly to the caves for a guided tour. Sadly, my silly hips were not willing to do the 500 stairs down into the caves, so I left the others to it and retraced my steps.
This detour provided me the opportunity to slowly slink my way through the verdant fern foliage and towering gums. Dappled sunlight broke through the canopy. The solo sojourn was meditative and grounding. I was alone in the bush, yet felt perfectly safe… but mainly because I knew the entrance wasn’t far away, along a dedicated path and I couldn’t get lost if I tried.
I pretended I was deep in the forest, drank it all in and smiled proudly to myself. Taking me out of my comfort zone had led me to the unexpected gift of peaceful solitude – chatting to frogs and looking out for snakes… I only spotted a Pademelon, but that was thrilling enough for me.
Onward we continued into South West National Park, almost choking on the beauty of the coast as we picked out which beach shacks we’d be relocating our lives to. We parked at the literal end of the road – in the southernmost point of Australia. I had no idea that the Huon Valley region stretched this far, and it was nothing like I’d imagined – if you’d told me I was in remote Northern Queensland, I might have believed you. Funnily enough, Antarctica is closer in distance than FNQ.
The gang were taking a 2-hour (return) walk along the Fishers Point Track, and I joined them for as far as I could manage. When I could no longer match their pace, and they were the size of ants, I dropped to the white sands of Planter Beach and once again, made the most of the opportunity to spend time with myself, without another soul in sight.
I kicked my shoes off and waded through the shallow waters that teased the picturesque beach. I stroked the pale skin of gums that had also fallen at this blissful bay and sensed a certain kinship. I heard the soulful strains of a didgeridoo…. and turned to find I was no longer alone on the slender stretch.
Before I could blink, I was being serenaded. His partner sat meters away while he slowly circled me and played. A low, vibrational hum washed over my body and seeped into my bones. When he was directly behind me, he lingered before stopping still. Yet he continued to play.
I suddenly realised there was no-one else within cooee, my only escape was a scrubby bush track. His didge was about three times the size of any I’d seen elsewhere, and it occurred to me that if he bopped me on the head, nobody would hear me scream.
I calmed my paranoia by thinking ‘well, if I have to go, this wouldn’t be the worst possible version of my demise… ‘. I then put my trust in the universe that I’d be safe. And I was.
What a frikken privilege to be seated in an idyllic pocket of the world, receiving this private healing of sorts. Things could have gone differently, I guess… Let’s just say that Wolf Creek caused some permanent damage.
I made my way back to the car at Cockle Creek, via the whale lookout at Adam’s Point, where I was sayonara’d by dancing kelp.
Despite another chance to take in the breathtaking scenery of Recherche Bay, I was in total wind-down mode, and I struggled not to nod off on the hour-and-a-half drive back to admire our new accommodations. Thankfully, trooper Tracey has admirable energy reserves, and I relaxed, knowing I was in safe hands.
Hunter Huon Valley‘s 36 acres of rugged bushland boasts three sleek, divinely kitted out cabins a deux (an homage to the artists and craftspeople of the area). These contemporary ‘treehouses’ hover above the treetops and valley below, ensuring you feel on top of the world. Another true escape – so far away from care, yet close enough to excellent local restaurants – not that you’ll need them as these compact, sexy-as-all-get-out lodgings contain stupendous kitchenettes. The bath’s location will make you weep, the fireplace will keep you warm and the attention to detail will keep calling you back.
Not far away, glorious Alto Franklin has rock-star swagger. This luxurious, architectural stunner could be the ideal home away from home when feeling a bit fancy or celebrating a major deal…. (be that in business, life, love… whatever…)
Alto is a TOTAL treat. From the infinity lap pool and spa with picture-perfect views, to the amazing kitchen (think coffee machine so swish you practically need a licence for it and an enormous walk-in pantry stocked with all the ‘basics’.. . You know, like an entire bush-ensemble of local honeys and peanut butter you won’t want to waste on toast, and don’t get me started on the pretty kitchen garden. Bedrooms are located on either side of the brilliant belly of the beast’s spacious entertainment and dining areas, indoor and out, with swanky BBQ facilities too. On-property long-haired bulls, a ‘fantasy’ wine cellar, gym, Netflix and Spotify are just some of the ‘little extras’. Alas there are only 3 firepits. I mean… come on.!!! Quite Franklin-ly, you’ll want for nothing. Did I mention the dedicated concierge at your disposal should you need them? Actually.. forget this place, would you…? I’ve decided to move in.
The Bowmont apartment sprawls across the top level of a charming historic bank building in Franklin. Being owned and operated by revered food stylist Michelle Crawford, who runs workshops and small events in the creative space on the lower level, auto-suggests this property will be stunning, but sadly, you cannot begin to comprehend the beauty of this accommodation until you step inside. You’ll just have to see it for yourself. It’s fabulous!! If you have an eye for style you will need to bring your smelling salts- prepare to swoon! Honestly, I was speechless.. I may have let out a little sigh every time I entered a new room, but apart from that.. struck dumb. It’s so, so special. I’m aware I’m starting to sound like a broken record but the Huon is seriously magical and the people who live and life there know it, and honour it with all their might. This is ‘Tassie country cool’ at its finest.
Dinner that night was at the delightful, but sadly now closed, Osteria @ petty sessions, a nose to tail restaurant run by a young couple who treated us like we were on holiday in the Italian countryside (read: fed us like it was our last meal on earth). Housemade salumi that melted on the tongue, freshly made bread and pasta, a menagerie of preserves, and passion with a capital P. The good news is that you can snaffle Martino and Sofia’s handmade delicacies every Sunday at the splendiferous Hobart Farm Gate Market – look for them at Bottega Crippa.
Their Tiramisu was sublime, but a slightly sweeter treat was had when an old mate – Chef Annaliese Gregory – dropped in on her way home from, oh, I dunno… wresting crayfish, digging a Hangi with a toothpick whilst juggling hunting knives, scaling a mountain in search of alpine strawberries, fresh snow for whisky and yodelling wilderbeasts … or some such heroics. This chick is a legend – I met Analiese eons ago when working with Peter Gilmore on the Quay cookbooks, at the time she was head chef, and over the years we’ve spent several short bursts of quality time together, even sharing a meal in one of my favourite secret squirrel restaurants in Kyoto. This was possibly our briefest encounter yet, but I so appreciated her effort to swing by and squeeze me. Ex Kiwi, via key gastronomic temples of Sydney, London, Spain and France – who knew this chef would take to the Huon like a duck to water? Don’t miss her TV series A Girl’s Guide to Hunting, Fishing and Wild Cooking. filmed … where else but in situ?
We waddled home from our last dinner in Tassie (until next time!) and plotted longer stays.
After restful slumber, we were off to Drip Beach to meet Serena, mistress of Elsewhere Sauna – a mobile ‘recharging’ unit in the form of a steamy, gypsy-esque caravan. I’m a cold-weather girl, and I know to leave the kitchen when you can’t stand the heat, so I opted out – but the others LOVED the wood-fired detox sessions and bracing dips between.
I merely adored one last chance to feel at one with the Huon’s incredibly invigorating coastal energy, and the chance to chat with the delightful and inspiring Serena, when the others were indisposed. An impactful experience, even from the sidelines.
Heading towards the airport we had one last stop to make – checking out the utterly charming rooms, cottages and pretty grounds of Clifton Homestead‘s tranquil lodgings – exquisitely decorated in country-luxe style – another classic example of the talent and hospitality within this region.
Within a 90-minute drive, top to toe, you’ll experience pristine wilderness, incredible food and wine, relaxing country roads, farm-gates, jaw-dropping beaches, adventuring (soft or serious!), hiking, boating, fishing, community and connection, intimate accommodations and fantastic hosts! And I’m pretty sure that’s barely scratching the surface.
This trip was hosted by the good folk of Huon Valley Council and Tourism Tasmania. Check out their websites for further information, info and updates.
PS. With time to kill before my flight, I snuck into Hobart to check out the gorgeous The Tasman Hotel – take a peek:
Additional notes:
Just in case you’re curious, (or thinking of taking up travel writing) while a travel writer doesn’t pay for a trip (when hosted), we do not earn an income whilst travelling, in fact it’s rare to earn enough to meaningfully cover the hours worked on a story. Unless you are on staff or have regular columns etc, freelancers like myself tend to do it for the love of it, and sharing of quality information. Most of us have additional income sources. Mine, as you’ll likely know if you’ve found yourself here, includes my culinary tour business, various food and travel books, and presenting and consulting on Japan travel/cuisine etc. Plus I operate an online store selling gorgeous Japanese homewares, kimono etc – although, honestly that poor website rarely gets the attention from me that deserves… so much to do, so little time! **Red hot tip, never wish a travel writer a ‘great holiday’ when they are heading away for work. I don’t remember the last time I had one of those… ESPECIALLY in JAPAN – but I adore living vicariously through my guests and watching them fall in love with the destination – so that’s terrific compensation. Not complaining, they are all excellent gigs and I’m grateful for every day I get to do it! 😉