Tasmania’s untamed North West

I am standing on the Edge of the World, horizontal rain and wild wind threatening to sweep me into the ocean below, where bleached tree limbs lie in tangled heaps.

It’s freezing, and my jumper isn’t cutting it.

Tasmania’s North West coast is off the beaten path, as proved by the wombat strolling across Arthur River’s main road, looking like he’d just finished a morning latte.

Here, locals surf mid-winter if the swell’s right, and steaks come from Cape Grim, just up the road.

This journey began in Launceston, Tasmania’s second-largest city and the gateway to the North West.

The region is known for raw coastlines, just-caught seafood, and plenty of eccentric characters.

The welcome is warm and the conversation lively, whether about politics or where to find the best chippies.

Despite multiple visits to Launceston, I’d never made it to the mythical Cradle Mountain. So, that was my first stop.

Unused to driving on roads where snow lines the edge, warnings of icy patches kept me cautious on the winding country drive.

By mid-afternoon, I reached Discovery Resorts Cradle Mountain Village under blue skies.

Reception staff advised me to head straight for the Visitor Centre, as the weather here can swing from sunshine to snow in minutes. Yesterday, the road into the park was closed until midday.

I jumped on the 3pm bus for a golden-hour glimpse of Dove Lake before the last return at 4pm. Miss that, and it’s a two-hour trudge.

The lake glowed in the late afternoon light, and I returned to our cabin content.

Even if tomorrow brought closed tracks, I’d ticked the box.

After a dinner at the resort’s Hellyers restaurant, I soaked in the spa bath, fire blazing, wondering what morning would bring.

Sun again, so I made a second trip to Cradle before taking the scenic Murchison Highway, leaving ice-warning signs behind.

Panoramic view of The Nut and Stanley.

Two hours later, I reached Stanley, wrapped around an ancient volcanic plug called The Nut.

In summer, there’s a chairlift to the top, but in winter, the 152m climb was a hard pass.

Instead, I checked into a luxury beach house at The Inlet, glass of Tassie red in hand, wallabies grazing outside.

It was almost enough to keep me in, but the lure of the Stanley Hotel’s oysters, abalone, flathead and crumbed scallops won.

Locals played pool, a jukebox blasted classics, and the fireplace roared.

Stanley’s quirks go back to the 1800s, with its standout being Highfield Historic Site, built in 1832.

Visiting here is like walking in the footsteps of the colonial founders.

The regency manor has sweeping coastal views and, if you’re lucky, or unlucky, ghosts.

I felt a chill upstairs and wouldn’t step into the basement.

Gardiner Point at the Edge of the World.

From Stanley, Arthur River, and the Edge of the World are just an hour away.

Stop at Smithton for a taste of La Cantara’s artisan Venezuelan-style cheese and a tour of the 24/7 robotic dairy.

It’s a revolution for dairy farmers, and the cows quite like it too.

Don’t miss a Cape Grim steak sandwich at the Marrawah Inn or surfers braving icy waters at Green Point.

Huge sheets of black, rubbery bull kelp sometimes wash ashore here.

That night, seafood still called, so Hursey Seafoods delivered briny oysters and fresh caught crayfish metres from their trawlers.

On the drive back, I detoured to white-sand Boat Harbour Beach for a Palawa cultural walk with Tunapri guide Jye Crosswell around the rugged headland.

Foraging between the rocks, I discovered edible plants and age-old practices.

Later, snuggled into a sand circle, I learnt how bull kelp can be transformed into practical and attractive traditional baskets.

Hursey Seafoods in Stanley.

This is another spot where it’s hard not to linger and luckily, I had booked Sol at Sisters Beach, an Airbnb holiday house with sauna, underfloor heating and decor straight from a glossy mag.

A short walk led to the magnificent Rocky Cape National Park coastline, where sunset painted the water in breathtaking hues.

The road to Launceston was peppered with a tulip farm, a pause at Penguin (a town), and a stop at The Truffle Farm, where Dougie the labrador unearthed truffles that later blanketed my pizza.

Back in Launceston, Peppers Silo, a hotel crafted from old grain silos, provided a quirky finale.

Its Grain of the Silos restaurant dished up regional fare, Tamar River views dazzled, and Archie, the resident dog ambassador, sealed the stay.

In Tasmania’s North West, every bend in the road feels like the start of another story, whether it’s a ghost in a grand old homestead, a wombat on his morning commute, or a fisherman hauling lobsters straight from the sea.

It’s raw, rugged and sometimes wild enough to blow you sideways, but it’s also welcoming in a way that lingers long after the journey ends.

Drive it once, and you’ll be planning your return before you’ve even unpacked the car. 

The writer travelled as a guest of Tourism Tasmania.

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