Bookmark This Tassie Property for Your Next Cosy Trip Away
“It’s a bit of a hidden gem out here,” says property manager Kendra Foster with a smile as she checks us in at Currawong Lakes, about 2.5 hours drive north of nipaluna/Hobart in lutruwita/Tasmania’s Eastern Tiers region. Out the window, grey-trunked eucalyptus trees bow in the breeze, a herd of deer gathers on a far hill and the sun glints off one of the retreat’s three lakes, each full of wild brown trout. “My favourite is Currawong, where you’ll be fishing tomorrow,” Foster tells my boyfriend.
We settle in at The Lake House, one of five private, self-contained stays. With three queen bedrooms, a woodfire-warmed great room decorated with soft throws and framed illustrations of fishing flies, a gourmet kitchen and a deck that stretches over the water, it’s grand in scale yet still cosy. Further inspection reveals spare warm layers in the wardrobes.
In the early afternoon, we rug up and head to the clay target shooting range to meet Foster’s partner and operations manager Corey Ingram. He runs us through the safety briefing and a quick lesson before we take turns to shout “Pull!” and fire at the bright orange discs that shoot through the air. “Two points if you get it on the first shot and one point for the second,” he says, adding that most beginners hit something. I manage one two-pointer and a handful more but my competition is a natural. “Oh, alright, Tex,” says Ingram with a laugh.
Later, it’s too windy for local chef Chris Lucas (whose services can be added to The Lake House bookings) to cook a barbecue outside but Plan B doesn’t disappoint. He clears space in the fireplace and the lodge fills with the aroma of Tassie T-bone steak yielding to flame and herbed butter melting over crayfish caught nearby off the coast at Bicheno. “That was still moving at 4 o’clock this afternoon,” says Lucas. He lays out a spread of handmade sourdough, fire-licked octopus and veggies he grew at home, including potatoes roasted in bone marrow butter and broccolini with chickpea mousse. Happily, we’re just steps from bed at the end of it.
“Whoever invented mindfulness was probably a fly fisher,” says Tasmania Fly Fishing guide Scott Murphy the next morning. After a bit of casting practice on the grass, we wade into the reeds, a chorus of frogs momentarily silenced by our arrival. We cautiously execute the “Tassie two step” that Murphy demonstrated on dry land (“you can also use it at the club”). As I cast my line again and again, his observation rings true. The repetitive motion, the small adjustments to form, the pleasure of being in nature. After a couple of peaceful hours in the water, neither of us has managed to land a trout but everyone is smiling and Murphy remains philosophical, “That’s what fly fishing is about – getting outside in a beautiful location.”
