When my friend Shirley was diagnosed with cancer last year, she and I talked about what we could do to help her through it. She said she’d love to have something to look forward to, something to focus on through all the blech she knew she’d face, and when I suggested a trip to Tasmania to Eat All The Things, her whole face lit up and we knew we had a winner.

So that’s what we focused on. That’s what we brought up when I’d take her to an appointment or she’d stop by for coffee after she’d been to one. It’s what we dreamed of when her hair fell out and the effects of treatment knocked her flat. We’d picture Tasmania In Autumn with crisp apples and falling leaves and weather cold enough to need sweaters and scarves and cute boots.

But by the time the trip rolled around, life had happened for both of us. Finances were tight, I was ill with an unknown thing that would land me in hospital 2 months later, she was exhausted from recovery.

So we sat down with cuppas at our kitchen table, discussed all the reasons it was more sensible to stay home….and decided to go anyway.

I’m so glad we did.

There’s something rather lovely about traveling when you’re not at your best. Your expectations hover somewhere around “Get up in the morning, see something new, go to bed”, so you really can’t help but be delighted with each day no matter what happens.

We made things as easy as possible for ourselves. Instead of staying in new rooms each night, we rented two holiday homes, one near Launceston and one near Hobart. This allowed us to have beautiful and quiet places to rest, kitchens to cook up the gorgeous food we collected on our travels, and it was much cheaper than hotels. We also got a rental car so we would always have a place to rest while on our adventures, and didn’t have to depend on public transport if we were wobbly.

Our first nights were spent in a lovely cottage in Hadspen, just outside Launceston. It is a charming spot of lush gardens overlooking the river. It was small and cozy and run by the loveliest couple who chatted with us, gave us all sorts of ideas for where to visit, and treated us like family.

On our first day we each bought a bottle of Tasmanian wine (white for her, red for me) a gift box of Tasmanian cheeses, fresh bread and butter, and we were set.

Each evening we’d watch the sunset over the hills, discussing our favourite experiences of the day, plotting our next adventure. We read books and magazines, took naps, had early nights and leisurely breakfasts, and made it a holiday to suit us, just as we were.

We began our Tasmanian adventure in Launceston, driving over the mist-shrouded river to Launceston Cataract Gorge & First Basin, a gorgeous place of spectacular natural beauty and fun things like a cherry red chairlift that whisked us off our feet and took us on a beautiful ride over the water and up to the mountain.

There were lovely gardens to amble through, surrounding a wonderful gazebo nearly hidden in the towering pines.

Shirley and I both love gardens. Shirley has her degree in horticulture and has taught me so much, so we happily wandered the twisting pathways, taking pictures of the peacocks and wallabies who live there. I sighed happily over the hydrangeas, the flowers of my youth in Canada and Washington State, and the magnificent pine trees that swayed gently in the wind.

We looked over the map of criss-crossing trails, and chose one we hoped would be beautiful.

It was.

It wound along the mountain side, curving sinuously around rocky outcroppings and sheer cliffs. Multicolored stones guarded one side of us, while the glistening river flowed serenely below.

I never cease to be amazed at the plants and trees that can grow and even flourish in utterly inhospitable ground. A landscape of boulders would be the last place I’d choose to plant myself, but somehow, things grow here.

Since we arrived early in the morning, there were hardly any other walkers along the trail. It was so nice to find benches like this along the way where we could sit in the shade and watch the river and breathe in the scent of moss and damp leaves.

I loved the mottled rocks covered with lichen and moss, looking so solid and ancient. They gave such a lovely feeling of security and safety.

And these wild daisies delighted me no end, perched on the edge of a cliff with the barest shimmer of earth to sink their roots into. Yet they flourish. Sometimes all we have to do is hang on, and that’s enough to keep us living.

As we walked through the early morning sunshine, the sound of bagpipes suddenly echoed down the gorge. Old spirituals and Celtic tunes danced among the rocks, making us feel like we were in a medieval fairytale instead of a few steps away from bustling Launceston.

The water tumbling over rocks was mesmerizing as I peered over the ledge watching birds swoop and lizards scuttle.

Clouds started rolling as we headed back to the chairlift, turning the forest from shimmering glades to something out of Germany’s Black Forest.

We walked slowly, willing the trail to last a bit longer, and we both agreed that if this was all we saw in Tasmania, it had been worth the trip.

Thankfully, there were many more beauties to come.