The sound of silence
Freycinet Peninsula, Tasmania, Australia
The aptly named Wine¬glass Bay, on Tasmania’s east coast, forms one side of a narrow isthmus of white sand that curves as elegantly as its name¬sake the smooth side of a wineglass. Lying within a national park, the beach can only be reached by a vigorous, one-hour bush hike from Freycinet Bay. Sweat-soaked, you burst from the thick shrubbery onto the powder sands and, ditching your pack, plunge straight into the cool, crunching shorebreak waves.
Above the beach looms a 375 million-year¬old granite massif known ominously as The Haz¬ards. Its weathered, 300m peaks look like an Ayers Rock that has be¬come tired of life in the parched Cutback, and gone walkabout for a refreshing holiday by the sea.
The prevailing silence of Wineglass Bay is counter pointed by odd, ambient noises, barely distinguishable at first, but increasingly audible as you listen for them: trekkers greedily guzzling at water bottles, the buzzing of bush flies that seems as loud as helicopters, the musical burble of currawong birds and, of course, that ever-sighing shorebreak. And just when you’re sure you have the beach to yourself, indo¬lent little Bennett’s wallabies invite them¬selves to lunch on your spare sandwiches.
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