DAY 3—The Dove Lake Experience

We got up early this morning and went into the Cradle Mountain Park, planning on doing a full day of walking and photography. We did—but we never imagined we’d spend the whole day on ONE walk.

Walkers are supposed to sign in so that the park service can look at the log book and see if anyone has gone missing. So at about 9:30, we signed in for our 2 hour Dove Lake Circuit walk, teasing each other about how at the rate we go, we’d probably be on the trail for three hours, taking pictures of everything. The lake was gorgeous and the weather was nice—sunny and warm. The trail wound around the lake on a variety of surfaces, sometimes gravel and sometimes wood plank, sometimes metal grating. It stayed very close to the water and sometimes branched off to small beaches, where you could take photos of the mountains as you walked below them.

Not twenty steps onto the trail, we were already taking photos. We’d stop seemingly every ten feet—more than that if we spotted a neat plant or interesting shot. The trail wound through what felt like jungle, with large, moss-covered trees and ferns and palms growing off the tree trunks. Then we’d walk through large, hilly expanses of button grass and twisted eucalyptus. Kangaroo dung is everywhere (they have a thing with pooping on top of rocks), but mainly we saw birds and small lizards and the occasional fish in the lake. We knew we were going slow as people kept passing us, but the lake really is one of those things that should come with a warning: object is larger than it appears.

We were in a photographer’s heaven. Between the 1500 meter-high Cradle Mountain and the plethora of tiny plants, we ended up with about 300 pictures each. The sun appeared well past its highest point when we returned to the walker’s registration, and when I signed us out I had to do a double take at the time: nearly 5 o’clock. It had taken us six and a half hours to do a two hour walk. I’m sure that earns us a prize of some kind, even if it is for the slowest walkers ever.

On our way back to the resort, we passed the sign for Devils@Cradle, a breeding and research facility for the Tasmanian Devil. And guess what? We were just in time for the 5:30 feeding tour (Hence the slogan: ‘Feed the Devil Inside’). As a precursor to the actual feeding, we listened to a presentation on the Devils and learned lots of neat tidbits: that one of their original scientific names were Sarcophilus satanicus (‘Satan’s Flesh Eater’) and how Devils really aren’t aggressive, they just make very loud and mean noises—all in an effort to avoid conflict. Which makes sense, really. Dogs to it too. Devils are scavengers, carnivorous marsupials, loners… and earned their names from their red ears (which turn red to help cool them), big white teeth, and nocturnal fighting over prey. Then our tour guide brought in a 2 year old female named Charlotte, who clung to the woman’s shoulder as we each got to feel her fur. Devils have a bite strength third only to leopards and great white sharks, but supposedly an adult male wombat would be more likely to bite a human. Then, we headed outside to watch the feeding.

Years ago, I watched a nature show on Devils and was quickly and easily convinced that they are one of the meanest animals on earth, along with the wolverine. All I could remember was that horrible, violent screaming and growling and the way they attacked each other unabashedly. Devils are not terribly big, but the minute our guide dangled a hunk of wallaby down in front of the pack of five Devils, the sounds of all hell breaking lose echoed around the mountain.

The more I watched, the more I noticed how dog-like their behavior was. When two Devils would approach each other, they would growl, making little or no eye contact, and although also growing, the other would change direction. When one got a piece of food, it would take off in search of privacy, the others running after it, all of them growling and huffing. If they all came together over the food, the screams grew even louder and they would stand off against each other—baring teeth and snapping and rearing up, but not actually fighting. They even swing their rear end around to protect their faces, as dogs do in play.

We learned that the Devils are suffering from an incurable disease, a form of viral cancer that is spreading through their population like wildfire. The Devils have such a concentrated gene pool that they cannot fight it, and once contracted, they develop tumors around their mouths that grow until they can no longer eat. The founder of Devils@Cradle is researching the disease and trying to protect western Tasmania’s Devil population, as the disease has not yet crossed the mountain range and rivers dividing the state. To strengthen the gene pool and possibly save the species, they need at least 1000 breeding Devils in captivity. Right now, there are 300.

After the tour, we went back to the lake for sunset photos, but got nothing spectacular.

Now officially out of daylight, we went back to the resort for dinner (Salmon Bruschetta) and to look through our pictures. Tomorrow, we would check out the ‘Wilderness Gallery’ across the street to see how the so-called professional photographers did it.