The thing I cared about most for this trip was accommodation. When I was younger, I thought as long as I had somewhere to sleep, cheaper was better. It usually didn’t affect the next day’s plans. I was young. Now, if I lose a day of sleep, I feel it for two. If I don’t sleep properly, the next day becomes a nightmare.
Many of the places I used to justify as “good value” turned out to be noisy, or had creaky beds, or uncomfortable mattresses, or tiny, poorly designed bathrooms. There was always at least one thing wrong. I used to get through it with energy and stamina, but now I don’t have the energy, the stamina, or even the will to do that anymore.
Back then, I had time but no money. Now, I have less time but more money, so the places I used to choose no longer make sense to me. Also, since I already knew I would be walking a lot in Tasmania, choosing cheaper accommodation felt like it could ruin the whole two-week trip. The motto for this journey was simple: eat well, walk well, sleep well.
We arrived at our hotel in St Helens in the evening. It was spacious and nice. We had to take the stairs, as there was no elevator. Even though the stairs and hallway creaked with every step, the room itself was quiet. It was a good first impression of our first accommodation on the first day of the trip.
Dinner at the restaurant attached to the hotel was disappointing, but the excitement of the beginning of the trip softened that a little. And I slept well. I’m not sure how much I’ll write about accommodation in the rest of this travel series, but almost every place we stayed over the two weeks was good. After long days of walking, it felt good to rest, to sit quietly in the evening, and to sleep comfortably.
Booking accommodation and then actually staying there made me realise again how much my way of travelling has changed. When I was younger, I would sometimes pull over at a rest stop during a road trip and sleep in the car. Now I wouldn’t even consider it. Safety aside, I already know how difficult the next day would be if I did.
Back then, waking up in the morning felt like the hardest thing. Now, I wake up at six or seven without trying. I used to stay up until midnight or later, not wanting to waste time. Now, by ten, I’m already sleepy.
There was a time when any room with something resembling a bed was enough. Now, I think about how comfortable the bed is, how good the bathroom is. A jacuzzi would be even better, especially if it’s a place I’ll return to after walking twenty kilometres in a day.
Someone once asked me: if you had to travel far, say a twenty-hour flight, would you rather fly business or first class and stay in a modest place, or fly economy and stay in a five-star hotel or a private villa? I’d choose the latter. Accommodation matters more than transport. No matter how uncomfortable the trip is, as long as I can rest well afterwards, it’s fine. Especially for a longer trip, a week of comfort matters more to me than twenty hours of ease. That was the mindset behind the places we chose in Tasmania.
As I mentioned in the previous piece, travel is about understanding someone else’s everyday life, but it is also a process of noticing changes in myself. It’s during travel that I see parts of myself I don’t notice in everyday life.
I see myself waking earlier, going to bed earlier, allocating more of my budget to where I stay. It reminds me that people don’t remain the same. Sometimes I discover parts of myself I didn’t know. Sometimes I realise that what I thought was part of me no longer is.
I used to think the most important thing in travel was to see more, experience more, feel more. But maybe what matters most is simply sleeping well. Without the energy and clarity that come from rest, none of it would be possible.
Our first night in St Helens was satisfying. After checking out, we found that it was Sunday, and most shops and restaurants were closed, so there weren’t many places to stop. The weather was a bit cloudy, with some light rain, but the Bay of Fires was still beautiful.
Still, despite its beauty, the place felt like a town in decline. Too many houses had “For Sale” signs. Not many shops were open. There weren’t many people around. It made me think that it’s not just people who don’t stay the same. Places change too.
With that thought, we headed towards Bicheno.