'Flaming bays of fire!' exclaimed British explorer Captain James Cook when in 1770 he and his crew first spied the far northeast coast of Tasmania. The leafy green heath, speckled with wildflowers and lining a series of crescent-moon bays, was ablaze with fires set as part of a passive primeval land-management programme designed and implemented by the indigenous Aborigines to help regenerate vegetation. More than 200 years later, the Bay of Fires, as it became known, remains almost as pristine as when Cook sailed the Pacific Ocean. It is also the site of a luxury four-day trek on which guests are encouraged to have as little impact on the environment as the original inhabitants.
The words trekking and luxury are rarely associated - except in this case. Run by the innovative Cradle Mountain Huts company, the Bay of Fires walk leads small groups into Tasmania's stunning Mount William National Park with three days of easy beach walking, stylish accommodation, down-to-earth service, scrumptious gourmet food and two fabulous guides.
Our group met one crisp and early Launceston morning - three investment bankers, a wine maker, a 12-year-old girl, two vivacious young guides and me - before having our equipment checked, chomping down a few freshly picked local apples, jumping on a bus and heading for the beach.
Our guides, two self-declared chocolate aficionados Rhyc and Jo, led us into the Bay of Fires, enchanting us with tales of Tasmania's weird and wonderful native flora, fauna and Aboriginal culture. A series of dazzling bays lined with snow-white sand and azure water, and enjoying a significantly milder climate than the rest of the island, the Bay of Fires was once a gathering place for Aborigines. These hunters and collectors migrated to Tasmania during the last ice age, and remained there, quietly co-existing with the world around them until the country was made a part of the British Empire - and the Tasmanian Aborigines were wiped out. Remnants of their 10,000-year history on the island remain, especially in the form of middens (shellfish graveyards) but also caves and rock art.
The first night of the hike was spent at the Shed, a semi-permanent structure tucked behind sand dunes about four hours' walk from the bus drop-off. Eco-friendly, with solar power, gas and composting toilets, it looked like an oversized tent at a new-age boot camp. But there was nothing of the boot-camp about the menu. The food was fresh, gourmet and served in large quantities. Rhyc and Jo barbecued up a storm: porterhouse steaks, gourmet chicken sausages with Asian herbs, couscous salad with chargrilled vegetables, a gargantuan tray of antipasti - camembert, smoked cheese, almond and fig preserve, semi-dried tomatoes, marinated olives - and bottles of Tasmania's best beers and wines to wash it all down. And this was only the first night: there was better to come.
The next morning, another perfect summer day, we continued down the glimmering coastline, past long beaches interrupted by sunburned boulders, small coves so coated with shells we could not see the sand, the occasional fishing boat and a scattering of the great Aussie dream: dilapidated fibro holiday shacks among the gum trees, with a dinghy out the front, a barbecue out the back and an old rocking chair.
