The white quartz flank of New Harbour Point juts through the wild breakers stretching hundreds of metres out to sea.
A setting sun gilds its reflective canvas, throwing it into cheerful contrast with the grey hulk of De Witt Island and the bleak swells queuing up for their death dance on Hidden Beach.
For nine days the sun has hibernated deep in cloud cover and now its sweeps across the storm-washed beach and out to sea over the frothing wavecrests which have welded together in a turmoil of foam.
On the beach the noise is numbing, not unlike the roar of a steam locomotive at full bore — going nowhere.
That was the opening paragraph of the Tasmanian chapter of my book: Australia the Beautiful — Wilderness [Weldon, Ure Smith].
For the remaining two weeks of my journey through the bottom fringe of the Southwest National Park, the weather was a little kinder.
Click the link below for a small portfolio which hopefully gives a taste of the wild diversity and beauty of this, one of Australia’s last wildernesses. Allan Moult