Kitchen Remodel /  by Michael Johns

My first attempt at a major remodel project, and it was our kitchen. Our house was built in 1925, and it had probably been at least 20 years since improvements were last made on the kitchen. Fortunately, the many owners before us kept most of the original features in tact, such as built ins and an arched entrance to a breakfast nook. The trendy thing to do these days is to rip out as many walls as possible, but we opted to retain these period features and keep the kitchen cozy.

It turned out hiring a design-build firm would put us nearly double over our budget, so we found it necessary to take matters into our own hands. It was a rewarding experience and I’m very proud of the result. It took 2 years of thinking about the design details and just over 2 months to complete the demo and build. Everything was done ourselves aside from the wiring, rough plumbing, counter install, and refinishing the original fur floors. My favorite details are a custom built plate rack made from quarter sawn oak, a ruffled glass pendant light, an antique prep table from the late 18th Century and hutch we’re using as our pantry from the early 20th Century. The soapstone counters and backsplash, with custom end pieces designed by Casey, are also favorites.

This was the process….

…this was the final result.

Palmyra Atoll /  by Michael Johns

I’ve recently returned from a month on Palmyra Atoll, a collection of small islands rimmed by an extensive reef system located basically at the geographic center of the Pacific Ocean. I was helping capture red-footed and masked boobies for a movement study, where we attached small devices for short 2-day periods to collect GPS, accelerometer, and video footage while birds were out foraging at sea. Writer’s block continues, so here are some photos I grabbed during my free time to sum up the trip.

44th Annual Rich Stallcup Bird-A-Thon /  by Michael Johns

Our 24-hour Bird-A-Thon would start at the sound of the first owl call. For those unfamiliar with the term, a Bird-A-Thon is a fundraising campaign where individual donors sponsor your team’s efforts to identify as many different bird species as possible within a set window of time. In this case, money raised goes directly to supporting research conducted by Point Blue Conservation Science. Learn more HERE.

September 30th

9:30 PM ­– 11:30 PM

Casey and I set up camp at Fort Ebey on Whidbey Island the day before our big birding event. With the truck unpacked and tent in place, I whipped up a quick dinner on a portable cooktop and we settled in for an evening away from our computers around a warm campfire. Celina and Bryan joined us shortly after dusk, and while conversing with our beverages of choice, glancing occasionally away from the fire at the dappled stars through the tall canopy of conifers overhead, the characteristic screech of a barn owl caught our ears. It was the first owl call of the night, Puget Sounderlings inaugural Rich Stallcup Bird-A-Thon was officially on. Renee and Rachel would arrive a bit later in the night, and we all retired to our respective sleeping bags with thoughts of the many birds we would find in the morning.

1. Barn Owl
2. Barred Owl

October 1st

7:15 AM – 8:10 AM

Owls in fact made a big showing to start things off. Throughout the night, while intermittently waking to the sound of snoring both near and far, the distant calls of a barred owl were heard, and in the morning after breakfast we were treated to a great-horned owl roosting a low limb just outside of camp. We can thank Bryan for spotting that one. Spirits were high, and with breakfast burritos as fuel, we began our search along the steep coastal bluffs of Whidbey Island.

3. American Robin
4. Fox Sparrow
5. Winter Wren
6. Great-horned Owl
7. Black-capped Chickadee

8:30 AM – 10:20 AM

An unseasonably warm and dry fall was a bit unnerving, but it did provide for a beautiful day of observing wildlife. The forest trail from camp allowed us to add a few tree dwelling species to our list, and once we reached the bluff, a cornucopia of marine and coastal species greeted our binoculars. Looking west across the entrance to Puget Sound, placid waters sparkling in the bright morning light were speckled with all sorts of good finds.

8. Red-breasted Nuthatch
9. Northern Flicker
10. Golden-crowned Kinglet
11. Surf Scoter
12. Glaucous-winged Gull
13. Heermann’s Gull
14. Double-crested Cormorant
15. Common Loon
16. Red-necked Grebe
17. Ring-billed Gull
18. Rhinoceros Auklet
19. Northern Harrier
20. Pacific Loon
21. Common Raven
22. Horned Grebe
23. Common Murre
24. Pigeon Guillemot
25. American Crow
26. Great Blue Heron
27. Harlequin Duck
28. Bonaparte’s Gull
29. California Gull
30. Brown Creeper

11:10 AM – 11:55 AM

Once we were confident we had combed through all of the different mixed flocks on the water, we made our way back to camp to regroup and move on to our next destination. Hitting the road, we drove over Deception Pass, but given the crowds and the fact that we had checked off most of the common marine birds, we decided to press on. Not missing any opportunities, we managed to grab a few more species during the commute. Drive by birding.

31. European Starling
32. Red-tailed Hawk
33. Brewer’s Blackbird
34. Mourning Dove
35. American White Pelican
36. Turkey Vulture
37. Vaux’s Swift.

1:25 PM

A mysterious flat tire through a wrench in our plans, and Casey and I had to peel off from the rest of the group to switch out for the spare. Competing team perhaps? The source of the flat remains unsolved. We eventually met up for lunch in Edison, and added House Sparrow (38) and Red-winged Blackbird (39) to our list while eating tacos off the tailgate.

 2:00 PM – 2:25 PM

A walk was in order after lunch, so we took a brief stroll along the dikes of Padilla in the fall afternoon breeze. High tide hindered the shorebirds we were hoping to find at this spot, but it felt good to stretch the legs.

40. Snow Geese
41. Killdeer
42. Western Meadowlark
43. Western Sandpiper
44. Savannah Sparrow.

3:25 PM – 4:15 PM

A quick drive down the road, and we finally found the waterfowl finale we had been hoping for at Fir Island. With blood sugar levels getting low at this point, the sight of hundreds of ducks and geese wading in a marshy floodplain was a big morale boost. Wigeons and pintails abound, and we finally got a Canada Goose!

45. Canada Goose
46. American Wigeon
47. Northern Pintail
48. Bald Eagle
49. Mallard
50. American Coot
51. Northern Shoveler
52. American Avocet
53. Peregrine Falcon
54. Pectoral Sandpiper
55. Green-winged Teal
56. Long-billed Dowitcher
57. Lesser Yellowlegs
58. Barn Swallow
59. Black-bellied Plover
60. American Pippit

 

4:30 PM – 5:00 PM

We had achieved our estimated target of 60 species, not bad for a group of novice birders. But there was word of a possible wood duck not too far away at Wiley Slough, so while the rest of the group turned back towards camp to get a jump on dinner, Casey and I went to check it out. Success, wood ducks right where they were supposed to be. Thanks technology.

61. Wood Duck
62. Spotted Towhee
63. Cassin’s Vireo
64. Band-tailed Pigeon

6:30 PM

Arriving back at Fort Ebey Campground just before dusk, we decided to make one last stop at the bluffs to watch the sun sink below the watery horizon. The wildfire smoke tinted the setting sun a brilliant red. Soaking up the remaining light through the scope, I spotted a familiar shape that, despite having studied them for 5 years during my PhD, we neglected to search for earlier in the day. A group of Cassin’s Auklets, a fitting end to a fun day of birding for a good cause with friends. Thanks to all who sponsored our team this year!

65. Brandt’s Cormorant
66. Cassin’s Auklet!!!!

From left to right: Celina Steiger, Casey Clark (with Noosa), Rachel Osias, Renee Infelise, Mike Johns, Bryan Wilson

Island Debrief /  by Michael Johns

I’ve been back from the birds of Southeast Farallon Island for a little over a month now, and I’m just getting around to digging through some of the photos from this season. This was my 6th year on the island, and every year I seem to take a diminishing number of shots. Still, the following series sums up the season pretty well.

Leaning into art /  by Michael Johns

Now that I find myself out of the daily grind of field work and back in my apartment during the age of COVID, I’ve decided to get back into art to fill in the empty spaces between making dinner, watching Netflix, and writing. Here is a quick self portrait I made using Adobe Illustrator Draw for the first time on an iPad. Not bad considering I only used my finger, although I will admit it is easy to achieve an adequate likeness when using your face as a background layer.

We're all getting older /  by Michael Johns

POL small.jpg

There are approximately 500 wooden boxes (shown with a rock on top in the photo) scattered around on Southeast Farallon Island that are used as nesting habitat by Cassin’s auklets, the small seabird I’m holding in the photo. These boxes have been checked every year since 1982, where pairs of auklets using each box can be identified by a uniquely numbered metal band placed on the right leg. Some of the auklets that recruit into these boxes were banded as chicks, allowing us to track age-specific patterns of behavior, reproduction, and mortality. The bird in my hand is the oldest known-age individual currently breeding in the followed nest boxes, a female based on bill depth measurements with the band # 131319997. She received this band as a fledgling when I was still in high school back in 2001, first started breeding at age 3, and has produced 16 offspring with 3 different mates so far in her long life. We discovered her incubating a fresh new egg this year in box 212 with a new mate. At age 19, she is nearing the end of her life, and time will tell whether she manages to survive this winter to breed again next year.

This figure shows all of the known-age birds breeding in the boxed population this year. Dark grey squares at the top show the hatch year of each bird (band #’s along the x-axis), gaps are years where they were not detected, and colors show the type of breeding attempt numbered by how many chicks were fledged each year. Cassin’s auklets lay a single egg per clutch (blue squares), will relay if the initial attempt fails (yellow), and occasionally double brood (lay another egg) after they fledge their first chick (pink). Auklets can recruit as early as age 3 and live to be up to 23 years old. Most birds don’t live into old age, but a few like 131319997 surpass all expectations. Click HERE for a full resolution image.

It Takes A Village /  by Michael Johns

I’ve had the great opportunity to work with an incredibly detailed long-term dataset of known-age Cassin’s auklets from the Farallones, but I think it’s important to put into perspective how much effort is required to collect these types of data. Above is a reimagined figure depicting the tenure of the many devoted people involved in maintaining a continuous time series dataset from 1967 when the field station was first established until the present. Thanks to these committed folks, we now have a unique tool for tackling a range of demographic, evolutionary, ecological, and management questions for several seabird and marine mammal species. This summer will be my 6th season on the island, which is a small drop in the bucket compared to some current and past Farallon personnel. Apologies if your names are slightly misrepresented or some of the years are missing, I still need to finish my degree after all. Full resolution figure HERE.

Ireland and Spain /  by Michael Johns

Casey presented some of his work on walrus teeth at the Marine Mammal Conference in Spain this year, so as usual I played the traveling spouse. We booked our flight with Aer Lingus, an Irish airline, and decided to schedule an extended 4-day layover in Dublin to tour the city and catch up with a few old friends. Dublin was packed with holiday shoppers, and bars were overflowing with a mix of locals and tourists nearly every night we were there. Still, we braved the crowds and took in the sights, which included a pint at the Guinness Storehouse and lively traditional Irish music at the famous Temple Bar.

The remainder of our Euro trip was 10 days in Barcelona, where the conference was held. We spent much of our free time wandering the Gothic Quarter; a labyrinth of narrow cobble stone alleys winding through the oldest buildings of the city, with some structures dating back to the Middle Ages. The highlight of our time in Spain was a visit to La Sagrada Familia, a massive unfinished Roman Catholic basilica designed by the Catalan architect Antoni Guadí. His artistic modern twist on the Gothic style blends traditional spiritual and religious symbolism with representations of the natural world. The impressive structure towers high above the city, but the massive work of art is best experienced from inside. Huge columns of stone rise and fork overhead like a giant tree canopy, and beautifully intricate stained glass windows invoke the warm colors of a sunset. In my opinion, this basilica is as much a celebration of the natural world as it is of the spiritual one, a truly unique masterpiece that can be enjoyed by all. Guadí was hit by a trolly and died in 1926, 43 years after he took on the project of Sagrada Familia in 1883. Through donations and visitor fees the construction continuous, with the major elements slated for completion by 2026, the centennial of Guadí’s death.

Local Paddle /  by Michael Johns

After years of being frozen all winter, I finally have the opportunity to use my kayak. I was lucky enough to find a storage locker for my 19 ft wooden boat only a 10 minute walk from our apartment, and just steps from a launch into Lake Union. My normal paddle extends from Stimson Marina in Ballard, under the Ballard Bridge, past rows of fishing boats, sail boats, and house boats, through The Cut, under the Fremont and 99 Bridges, and into Lake Union proper. The heat map below shows my most used paths. Not surprisingly the views of Seattle’s skyline are particularly stunning in the cold early morning and just before sunset. Now I just need to build up the courage to make it through the Ballard Locks and out into Puget Sound.

Moving Out Of Alaska /  by Michael Johns

Five winters later and the time finally came to say goodbye to Fairbanks. After donating or throwing out anything we couldn’t fit into Casey’s Honda CRV and my Toyota Tacoma, we hit the road for Seattle. My dad, who flew up from California to take part in the move, drove the Tacoma with Noosa as co-pilot. It was early September, so the fall colors from the birch and cottonwood of the Boreal Forest transitioned back into the the late summer greens of cedar and big leaf maple in the Pacific Northwest. We took the eastern route on our move up in 2014, so this time we decided to give the western Cassiar Highway a try. Road conditions were excellent, camping was easy, we found some time after dinners to paddle Kluane, Boya, and Meziadin Lakes, and although we saw many black bears none of them ended up in our tents. Good times were had by all, and it was great getting to share the road trip with my dad.

Where's Our New Apartment? /  by Michael Johns

Casey and I are relocating to Seattle in 2 weeks and, unless we find some amazing cheap house in a desirable location, we’re moving into a small top floor apartment just blocks away from the Ballard Locks. The City of Seattle has an extensive online repository of datasets to explore, which I used to create this map of buildings and tree cover in our future neighborhood. The building we’re slated to move into is highlighted in red, which when zoomed out gets lost in a sea of other buildings. The dog-friendly apartment is ideally situated in a quieter neighborhood near the water, within biking distance of Casey’s new job, and a short walk from our friend’s house, nice bars and restaurants in Ballard, a nice beach for viewing sunsets, a marina to store my kayak in, and one of the largest green spaces in Seattle. Download a higher resolution version of the map HERE, and the code used to generate the base map HERE.

Feeding Frenzy /  by Michael Johns

The 2019 seabird field season on the Farallones wrapped up at the beginning of August, and I’ve been off the island and back home for a few weeks now. Going through photos from the season, this particular shot of a humpback whale lunge feeding through a giant bait ball of northern anchovy stands out as my favorite. Anchovy was an important component of the seabird diet this year, and comprised most of the prey items being delivered to awaiting chicks for common murres, rhinoceros auklets, and western gulls. We were seeing many mixed species feeding aggregations near the island by the end of July, where whales, sea lions, and birds were all working cooperatively to take advantage of the bounty of fish.

Catching Fish /  by Michael Johns

Sometimes a net works best when catching fish. In this case, seabird interns on Southeast Farallon Island are extracting a rhinoceros auklet from a mist net, in order to identify and measure fish the bird is bringing back to its chick. Seabirds sample the marine environment for us, and provide insights into the types of fish available around the island and within the Gulf of the Farallones National Marine Sanctuary. This particular auklet was carrying a bill load of 2 northern anchovy, a common prey item for this location.

Rent /  by Michael Johns

rent.png

Our days are numbered in Fairbanks. Coming up this fall, Casey and I are heading south to the Emerald City. While we’re both looking forward to being close to the water again, it will be hard to leave our little cabin in the woods. Yes, it regularly stays below -20F in the winter, but you can’t beat the rent prices in Fairbanks. The above graph shows median rent for a 1 bedroom apartment in Seattle vs. Fairbanks, with the dashed line showing how much we currently pay for our cabin.

Family of Ancient Murrelet /  by Michael Johns

Every season on Southeast Farallon Island has its share of surprises. From the residency of a northern gannet in 2012, to the invasion of hundreds of fork-tailed storm-petrels in 2017. This year it’s a family group of ancient murrelets, a species of wing-propelled diving seabirds that breeds well north of the Farallones.

Seabirds generally seek out remote predator-free islands as a refuge to lay eggs and rear chicks. This strategy ties individuals to their respective breeding colonies, limiting the maximum distance parents can travel to search for provisions for their chicks. Possibly as a means to overcome this limitation, ancient murrelets have adopted a different strategy. Rather than bringing food back to their chicks, they bring their chicks out to the food. A mere 1-3 days after hatching, persistent calls from devoted parents compel their chicks (up to 2 in a clutch) to take a plunge into the cold North Pacific ocean and paddle out to sea. These chicks, nothing more than buoyant balls of down with legs, follow their parents into the productive waters of the Pacific, slowly growing off a diet of zooplankton until they are big enough to fly and forage on their own.

What makes this sighting of a family group unique and exciting for the Farallones, is the fact that ancient murrelets predominately breed hundreds of kilometers away on the Aleutian Islands and throughout Southeast Alaska. A sighting of a chick off the island, which was likely no more than 25 days old, means it must have hatched somewhere relatively nearby - a noteworthy observation considering Washington State is the furthest south they’ve ever been confirmed to breed.

One Of Many Thousands /  by Michael Johns

A single common murre perched above tens of thousands more. Although their nesting behavior and overall appearance resembles that of a penguin, these wing-propelled diving seabirds are actually more closely related to puffins. And unlike penguins, these birds have retained their ability to fly…but just barely.

Auklet Family Tree /  by Michael Johns

Part of the basic seabird monitoring work we do on the Farallones involves tracking the reproductive history and lifespan of Cassin’s auklets that were given uniquely marked metal leg bands as chicks. Just over 400 wooden nest boxes were installed across the island in 1983, which mimic the natural burrows used by the auklets, and birds quickly started breeding in them. Over the past 35 years, each box that contained a known-age pair was checked every 5 days to note when an egg was laid, whether or not that egg hatched, and whether or not the chick reached fledgling age. Some of these chicks from known parents recruited into their own nest boxes and started breeding, resulting in multiple generations of birds all within close proximately to each other. Above is a family tree created with the kinship2 package in R, showing the largest pedigree in the known-age dataset that spans 6 generations from 1987 up until 2018. Click HERE for a higher resolution version.

Bill Load of Fish /  by Michael Johns

This animation represents the total number of prey delivered by common murre parents to awaiting chicks during a 14-hour diet watch. Each red dot depicts a single breeding site in one of our followed study plots on Southeast Farallon Island. Circles appear when a fish is delivered, and intensify in color as more fish are brought in throughout the day. Common murres deliver a single item after each foraging trip, the size and species of which are identified by Point Blue field scientists as birds fly into their respective sites. On this particular day in 2016, foraging parents were bringing in predominately anchovy, followed by juvenile rockfish and a mix of less common items such as squid, smelt, flatfish, and juvenile salmon.

Kilowatt Plot /  by Michael Johns

Kilowatt hour (kWh) is the standard unit of energy consumption, equivalent to 1000 watts per hour. For example an electric oven that consumed 1000 watts in an hour, or 100 watt heater that ran for 10 hours, both used 1 kWh of energy. On average, according to the US Energy Information Administration, an American household consumes just over 850 kWh per month. Looking at this plot, where each blue dot represents total kWh used each month, even in the dead of winter here in Alaska Casey and I stay well under the national average. Of course we don’t have an kids, don’t have air conditioning, and live in a small 800 square foot cabin heated by burning oil. Still, temperatures regularly dip below -10F in the winter, and we have to do things like plug in our cars to keep the engine oil warm, so I think we’re doing alright. Just for fun, I fit a simple linear model to our monthly energy consumption, which takes into account average monthly low temperature, day length on the 15th of each month, and number of days per billing cycle. The model (yellow line with shaded confidence region) predicts our monthly usage pretty well, tracking lower consumption during the longer warmer days of summer, and higher consumption during longer colder nights of winter. Of course the model isn’t perfect, but something odd did happen during the months leading up to 2017. A mystery that has yet to be solved.

Tasmanian Honeymoon In A Van /  by Michael Johns

Thanks to all the generous contributions to our honeymoon fund by friends and family, Casey and I were able to spend 3 awesome weeks touring Tasmania in a camper van. And we managed to spend every last cent... so thanks again to everyone for your gifts! Here are a handful of photos and some anecdotes from our travels.

Preamble: 3 Days in Hobart

Prior to getting the van, we stayed at an Airbnb in Hobart for 3 nights to take in the sights of the city. We treated ourselves to a fancy 6-course meal, pub food and beer, and a visit to the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) via a ferry that used plastic sheep and pink rockets as seats (art). The museum was a highlight of our trip, and if you ever find yourself in Hobart I highly recommend a visit.

Day 1: Hobart to Remarkable Cave

After picking up of Hertz rental van from the Hobart airport, stocking the cupboards with food and drink, and remembering to drive on the left, we set off for the Tasman Peninsula. Our destination was a spot on the southern corner of the peninsula called Remarkable Cave, a cavernous forking cave system carved by the erosional force of waves. From the parking lot, we hiked out to Mount Brown, offering views of a rugged coastline and secluded sandy beaches. We took a side trail down to one such beach in Maingon Bay, a great place for a swim. Later in the afternoon on our hike back, we spotted our first echidna digging for ants along the trail, Australasian gannets patrolling beyond the breakers, and a lone albatross gliding past the shore. We spent our first night in the van under the southern stars in the parking lot of Remarkable Cave, and speculated that the built in mini-fridge was quite possibly the noisiest fridge on the planet.

Day 2: Remarkable Cave to Fortescue Bay

“You can drive on unsealed roads, you just won’t be covered by insurance”. Turns out you can’t get to any of the preferred destinations in Tasmania by only staying on paved surfaces, so despite the lack of coverage by Hertz, after a long drive down a dusty washboard we arrived at the Mill Creek Campground in Fortescue Bay. Surprisingly, our tiny bald tires survived the puncture-threatening rough road (and the many kilometers of future unsealed routes we later took). Fortescue Bay was where I spent a few days hiking on my first visit to Tasmania back in 2011, and is arguably one of the most beautiful spots on the island. I dug up the following passage from my travel notes back then, which I think sums up this part of Tasmania pretty well.

“I’m looking across Fortescue Bay to the cathedrals of rock, reaching vertically 300 meters. The sun’s late afternoon low light, absorbed by the lichen, paints a golden orange on the cliff faces with contrasting black boxy shadows. The wind is high, blowing wave tops into spray, creating miniature rainbows as the water rains down. Dozens of Shy Albatross furrow their brows as they patrol the surface in the wind, while Australasian Gannets, with a flash of white wings dipped in black ink, soar high above. Black Faced Cormorants dawned in elegant tuxedos stand idle by on the rocks around me, their wings outstretched and heated by the suns reseeding rays. Sooty Oystercatchers pierce the exposed limpets and mussels with their fire red bills, while the broad leafy fronds of Bull Kelp dance and slap as they fold in and out with the waves. Somewhere in the distance I hear the muted bark of an Australian Fur Seal, masked by the howling wind and the crash of the boiling surf. The entire scene, the setting sun, the chill in the air, the epic cliffs, and the abundant wildlife, is absolutely beautiful.”

Fortescue is where the Cape Hauy Track begins, a strenuous trail through dense forest that eventually gives way to epic views along steep dolerite cliffs sculpted by erosion into vertical geometric pillars of rock. Waiting until the morning rush of hikers had ended, we traversed the many steps on the 4-hour return trail and found ourselves at the scenic lookout with only a few other lone hikers. Brief refreshing squalls of heavy downpours rolled in as we neared the end of the trail, with thunder booms echoing through the hills behind us. After our hike, we cooled off with a swim in the Tasman Sea, where Casey nearly waded into a huge Smooth Stingray, the largest species of ray in Australia, which I thought was merely a massive clump of detached kelp.

Day 3: Fortescue Bay to Swansea

Waiting for a break in the pouring rain, we explored the Tessellated Pavement on our way out of the Tasman Peninsula, a bench of crisscrossing cracks in the rock that form a natural tile-like texture. Our next major destination would be Maria Island, but we decided to overshoot the ferry terminal a bit to spend a night in a caravan park in Swansea, a humble little town tucked in the northwest corner of Great Oyster Bay. Access to power and water hookups gave us a chance to charge batteries, top off the drinking water, and take a hot shower, while the town provided a few extra groceries and beer. Another little known perk to this holiday park was a five minute walk to a modest short-tailed shearwater colony fringing a golf course built on a nearby headland. We sat post-sunset and pre-sunrise the next morning watching dozens of shearwaters crash land and awkwardly waddle in and out of their earthen burrows; seabirds after all are better adapted to a life at sea. Little blue penguins often accompany shearwater colonies, the chance of seeing them drawing in a handful of other tourists staying in the holiday park, but none were seen. The fact that shearwaters cover the entire Pacific Ocean basin on an annual migration to the Bering Strait and Arctic Ocean made seeing them on land at their breeding colony way more exciting than penguins for us.

Day 4: Swansea to Maria Island (via Ferry from Triabunna)

Wombats are all over Tasmania, but the place were they are most concentrated must be Maria Island. Leaving the van behind in Triabunna, we jumped on a 30-minute ferry out to Maria Island, pronounced by the Aussies with an “h” like Mariah Carey. Clearings from former human occupation makes the historical shore-based whaling settlement of Darlington, where the ferry docks, the perfect habitat for grazers like wombats and pademelons, and an absence of cars and lack of any natural predators means their populations have exploded. We spotted a few upon arrival and evidence of their presence in the form of cubic droppings everywhere, but once sunset neared the grassy slopes began teeming with brown lumps of wombats trundling across the landscape. We also observed quite a few eastern grey (or Forester’s) kangaroo and many Cape Barren geese.

Aside from the abundant wildlife, another major natural attraction on Maria Island are the Painted Cliffs, a short walk north from the campground. The natural canvas of white sandstone was carved by waves and stained red by deposits of iron oxide. We hung around the Painted Cliffs until dusk, in hopes that the orange of sunset would enhance the color of the rock, which it did.

Avoiding the sprawling tent communities of two competing youth groups, we pitched our tent on the edge of the far grassy field near a windy beach. Before heading to bed we spent about an hour spotlighting for Tasmanian devils, which were introduced to Maria Island in 2012 to serve as an insurance population against a prolific contagious nose tumor that is killing off much of the natural population. While we saw many brush-tailed possums, we had no such luck with the devils.

Day 5: Maria Island to Denison Beach

Next on our list of places to see was Wineglass Bay in Freycinet National Park, located east of Swansea on the Freycinet Peninsula. When we arrived, however, we found ourselves adrift among hordes of cars, camper vans, and motor homes. People everywhere. Wineglass Bay has been voted by a few apparently important travel guides as one of the top 10 beaches in the world, and tourists have obviously taken notice. After some deliberation, we decided to leave the crowd behind and keep driving north, and ended up finding Denison Beach, what we thought must be at least one of the top 10 beaches in Tasmania, and best of all, with no one on it. We relaxed in the sun, swam in calm clear blue water, and enjoyed a sunset of fluffy pink clouds. The small dirt parking lot at the entrance to the beach served as our campground for the night, a space we shared with likely another refugee of the Freycinet complex.

Day 6: Denison Beach to Humbug Point

After morning coffee on the beach and one last swim, we continued trekking north en route to a campground at Humbug Point just south the Bay of Fires, a stretch of coastline named by an English navigator in 1773 in reference to a string of beach fires from Aboriginal people. Coincidentally, this area of Tasmania also contains granite boulders coated with vibrant fiery orange lichen. The scrabbling sound of claws on metal woke us up late at night, and we were convinced a gang of brush-tailed possums would soon bust through the mesh of the vent windows and raid out food cupboards. Turns out they didn’t, and we also discovered in the morning that we had left the passenger window down.

Day 7: Humbug Point to Stump’s Bay

We spent the morning at Eddystone Lighthouse on the north end of the Bay of Fires, where we enjoyed the endless white sand beach for a bit and attempted to body surf the small wind waves. By mid afternoon, after driving past long stretches of cow pasture and farms, we arrived at Stumpy’s Bay, the furthest north we would travel on this trip. Wallabies frequented our camper van.

Day 8: Stumpy’s Bay to Narawntapu

Leaving the east coast behind, we set off on our second longest leg, passing through small towns and farmland to Narawntapu National Park, considered the Serengeti of Tasmania. The campgrounds contained warm coin-operated showers, which were nice. We hiked out of Bakers Beach to kill time, a densely vegetated walk where blotchy patterns of leaves from crown shyness of the trees blocked out a grey overcast sky. The north coast of Tassie had a cold, lonely bleakness to it, but then again it may have just been the wind and grey skies. Living up to its reputation, by late afternoon the fields of Narawntapu were peppered with Forester’s kangaroos and Bennett’s wallabies. If we squinted we could almost envision herds of gazelles grazing across the Serengeti. The rumbling of a passing lightning storm shook us awake in the middle of the night, soaking my boots that had been visited by a wallaby earlier in the day.

Day 9: Narawntapu to Cradle Mountain

One might say the north coast of Tasmania defines the urban sprawl, and while it was nice to see this side of the state, we were ready to get back to the wilderness.  With a refueling and water stop in the town of Burnie, we headed south towards the interior. After waffling on where to stay for the night, we managed to snag the last campsite at Cradle Mountain. Despite similar hordes of people that scared us away from Freycinet, Dove Lake backdropped by the bowl-like silhouette of Cradle Mountain is an iconic scene we didn’t want to miss. We circumnavigated the lake early to beat the crowd, along one of the most well maintained trails I’ve ever been on. A heavy mist made the multi-colored zebra patterns of the tree bark and rich green leaves really pop. Among the wildlife sighted was an echidna foraging dangerously close to the road, and a wombat seeking shelter from the mist under the boardwalk trail.

Day 10: Cradle Mountain to Mountain Valley Reserve

We really wanted to catch a glimpse of a Tasmania devil in the wild, so after some research Casey stumbled upon the Mountain Valley Nature Reserve, which boasts a near guaranteed chance of seeing them right outside your cabin window. It turns out they do this by putting chicken on the lawn off the front porch of each cabin, but we won’t get into that here. So we booked one of the six cabins and parked the van for two nights. Devils are only active at night, and with a nearly full moon, we would have to stay up pretty late in order to see them. Casey made it to 2AM the first night, and although we were very excited to see our first spot-tailed quolls, no devils showed up. The next morning our neighbors said they saw a single devil at 2:30AM, so perhaps we had just missed them. So the second night, we stayed up as long as we could. Again, we were visited by a different quoll and a possum, and just before I was about to call it a night, a devil appeared from behind a nearby bush. The encounter was brief, and it didn’t like to stay in the light of our porch for very long, but we managed to finally see a Tasmanian devil in the wild. As a bonus, we saw several platypus in a nearby river and even got a private tour of a glow worm grotto at a limestone cave on the property. The lack of sleep was worth it, but we were pretty tired by the end of our stay here.

Day 12: Mountain Valley to The Neck (Bruny Island)

A traveling day. Desperate to return to the coast, we made a beeline for Bruny Island. A little over 6-hours later, we picked a spot to camp for the night at The Neck.

Day 13: The Neck to Jetty Beach (Bruny Island)

A major draw to visiting Bruny Island was the chance of spotting little blue penguins from an observation platform at The Neck, a narrow strip of sand bounded by ocean. It turns out there is a massive short-tailed shearwater colony there too, with thousands of burrows covering the entire sand dune. The smell of seabirds was ever present. So after waiting for dark, a slow trickle of a few shearwaters flying in from the east erupted into a sky thick with several thousand birds. It was amazing. They were crash landing all over the place, their silhouettes visible with the diminishing twilight. A group of high schoolers showed up with red lights, which helped illuminate the scene. I was pretty happy to see these kids were so interested in observing such a relatively unknown seabird. As the shearwaters began to find their burrows and quiet down, 5 little blue penguins appeared from the beach, and slowly made their way to their respective homes.

We finished our tour of Bruny Island with two flights of beer from the Bruny Island brewing company (which were all delicious), a visit to the lighthouse at the south end, and camping at Jetty Beach for the night.

Day 14: Jetty Beach to Cockle Creek

For our final night in the van, we felt it would only be fitting to camp at Cockle Creek, the farthest south you can drive in Tasmania. Although the guidebooks stated this place was off the beaten path, most of the desirable parking spots for camper vans were taken, but we managed to find some space. The beach here was amazing, and we spent our final full day drinking beer in the sun on the sand.