1 August

1 August always brings up memories.  It reminds me of the summers I lived in Switzerland and celebrated (but still worked!) the national holiday.

However mostly it reminds me of arriving via The Spirit of Tasmania with Snuva on 1 August 2002.  This is/was (I assume!) the last big move of a life full of big moves.  I was yet again leaving behind very dear friends to pursue another life.  I loved Sydney but not the traffic.  I loved living in the Inner West but couldn’t afford to purchase a house there.  I loved Australia and her landscapes, but they are impossibly far away when you’re in the middle of Sydney.  It was time for a change.  Apologies for the poor quality of the images in this post; they are scanned from old pre-digital prints!

Snuva at Eden, NSW

So with our household goods packed up and mostly in the hands of removalists, Snuva and I left Sydney and headed off to Hobart via Melbourne.  We took it easy, stopping at beaches so Snuva could have a sniff and bounce.The van was fairly full of stuff, and Snuva had her bed on her seat to make it even bigger and comfier for the journey.

We were on the road for three days and two nights camping in the van – I forget where the first night, but the second near Traralgon. We woke up to a misty morning – so misty that it was quite humid inside the van. By the time I’d gotten into the A1, I saw what I thought was smoke but turned out to be steam coming off the van’s electrics – a stressful moment when I thought that rather than making our ferry I’d be dealing with (another) van fire.

I headed for St Kilda so I wouldn’t be too far from the ferry terminal and so Snuva and I could spend the day walking. We walked, and walked, and walked. Snuva smelled all the smells in St Kilda – good and bad – and she ran on the beach. She was going to spend the overnight ferry journey from mainland Australia to Tasmania away from me in a cage, so I wanted her well exercised and hopefully tired so she could get some sleep.

Snuva at St Kilda Beach

What I remember most about the ferry ride was wondering how Snuva was doing! When we arrived in Devonport in the morning – 1 August 2002 – I had to wait to disembark. People with cars had coffee on a port-side deck while foot passengers and cargo were disembarked first. I remember being able to hear Snuva’s bark as the cages of animals were brought ashore into the quarantine area. The woman next to me was wincing, and so I struck up conversation. Yes, she could hear her dog as well, yelling her displeasure.

Finally my section of cars was called to leave, and as I left the boat I made my way straight to get Snuva out of quarantine. She was making pathetic yelps as I approached the quarantine officer with her paperwork. As she cleared me to collect Snuva I made the mistake of saying ‘thank you’ loudly, and Snuva’s bark changed to an angry, get-me-out sound.

We headed to the East Devonport headlands so she could relieve herself and met several border collies and former Scots. Then we headed south, Hobart-bound. I know the Midland Highway and its moods very well now, but I remember thinking it such a beautiful drive that day. I still do, of course, but it had the extra spice that day of being completely new.

Eleven years on, and I am proudly Tasmanian. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. My life is very different – and Snuva is no longer alive to share it with me. But I think of her often as her name lives on as my geocaching and online name. Our move to Tasmania gave Snuva some wonderful times – camping and walks on the beach she would never have been able to enjoy in New South Wales (certainly not with as much frequency!).