
Most people head north in winter; Bali, Queensland, anywhere with a pool and a drink that comes with a slice of pineapple. Me? I head south. Tassie south. Into the chill, into the mist, into a cabin with a pinot in one hand and zero regrets in the other.
Hear me out.
Last (Northern Hemisphere) winter, I did the Scandi circuit, crossing Finland, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, with saunas, snow — the lot. So when I say Tassie has a bit of that same broody, misty magic, I mean it. Except here, the wildlife is cuter.
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There's just something about winter in Tasmania. It's as if the cold sharpens everything. The oysters taste brinier. The stars feel closer. Even the light has a silvery, soft focus filter.
I sit by crackling fireplaces and float in lakeside saunas. I pack thick wool socks and the pile of books I never get around to. There are long, slow lunches at cellar doors, spontaneous chats with strangers, and all the earthy, wholesome things I somehow skip on the mainland — forest bathing; just... breathing.
So no, it's not exactly Sweden. But with its moody landscapes, timber cabins, floating saunas, and general slow living, Tassie in winter scratches the Nordic itch.