We’re surrounded by swamp paperbark trees, spindly and sculptural, slim soldiers guarding the marshy growth within. We’ve walked in here barefoot, over samphire that gives a tickle of a foot massage as you pass. And here we are, inside the marsupial lawn with the drum of the distant surf for a soundtrack as we contemplate the life of the lawn.

It lies slightly below the water table, and after it floods, the new growth attracts wallabies and their little cousins, the pademelons. But the trees can be a trap of sorts, giving the First Tasmanians the edge to hunt the marsupials as they feed on the lawn – the hunters helped by the way the light plays through the paperbarks, disguising their presence and aiding the surprise.

It has been a day of hunting surprises, day two of our Bay of Fires Long Weekend with the Tasmanian Walking Company. After breakfast at the Lodge – more about that remarkable structure later – we’ve set off for a walk through the nearby bush, then a short transfer to a ford on Ansons River.

Here we pair up and pile into kayaks, paddling easily over the smooth, tannin-stained river, when all of a sudden a black swan comes flying low above us, wings beating the air as it searches for altitude. Unusual to see a swan flying solo, but around the bend is the reason.

A cygnet is on the water honking its distress and above it, a white-bellied sea eagle is circling, higher than the soaring eucalypts at first, then it finds its mark, folds in its massive wings and drops like a dart, striking the cygnet, then regaining flight and height for another attack.

The cygnet is the upper limit in size for the eagle’s prey, according to the science. We paddle on. That’s the last we hear of the baby swan, but not the last we see of the eagles.

Further down the river, high in a huge white gum, is a nest the size of a small car. Our guide, Zac Major, relays a story from the locals that they’ve seen both wedge-tailed and white-bellied eagles using the nest. I wonder who gets priority? First in, best dressed? Maybe they draw straws?

The locals also say the nest has been hereabouts for decades, but some years ago it was moved, by the eagles, from one tree to another nearby. “Shortly after they’d rebuilt it,” Zac says, “no more than a couple of weeks later, the tree they used to be in collapsed to the ground.”

Our walk, or our long weekend, started north of here, at Eddystone Point, one rough marker for the extent of the Bay of Fires, the area known as Larapuna by Indigenous Tasmanians. It runs from Eddystone in the north down the coast to Grants Point, just past Binnalong Bay – about a 50-kilometre stretch of coast, all up.

The British Navy’s Tobias Furneaux gave it the name Bay of Fires when he sailed past in 1773 – not for the startling flame-hued rocks that colour the capes and points, but for the abundance of fire he saw from his ship.

Fire was the multipurpose tool of the First Tasmanians, used for warmth, for cooking and for ceremony, and also to manage the country, lighting cool burns to clear the land with wallabies and kangaroos attracted to graze the regrowth and make the hunting easier.

We make our way south from Eddystone, walking easily along stretches of firm, sandy, low-tide beach and the occasional rocky cape. The shorebirds, some endangered, seem to be doing pretty well on these remote stretches. Oystercatchers strut along, hooded plovers move their legs at cartoon-like speed and fairy terns dart this way and that, moving as one when they fly in a flock.

Zac the guide – a physicist with a double degree in oceanography – explains how the ripples in the sand are similar reflections of energy, or the transfer of energy, as the waves in the sea.

He’s also a surfer; it’s blowing onshore today, but there are breaks here for him when conditions are right. We walk past Lodge Beach – a little cove bordered by rocky points that is the favoured swimming spot for the Bay of Fires Lodge above.

If Zac has a handle on the physics, his fellow guide, Bryony (“call me B”) Cook, has the flora and fauna covered. At one point, we find ourselves in a forest of she-oak trees – “they’re pretty selfish trees”, she says. “Their needles fall and stop most other things growing. An exception is banksia, which you might find on the edges.”

But they have some advantages: “The she-oak needles hold a lot of moisture, you can chew them for hydration, if you need to, and then you can make tea from the banksia.”

There’s a short climb through the coastal scrub up to the lodge – it is on private land, just outside the national park, but you’d be going to find the boundary between them. The wallabies that come to visit during our stay have no regard for it.

This off-grid masterpiece was designed by the late Ken Latona, a Tasmanian architect and bushwalker who has created something to suit the surrounds as much as it suits the purpose. The Lodge is a pair of connected pavilions of timber and glass, with abundant louvred windows, perfect for managing airflow (but a nightmare to clean, say the staff).

A huge dining/lounge/kitchen area leads in from a deck facing the sea, there’s a library off to the side for some quiet space. Guest rooms are generous – there are no curtains, but you wouldn’t want them, with the bush out the window and the sea in the distance, the sound of it filling the night.

Food and wine is mostly local – pink ling from the sea and lamb raised not so far away in the paddocks of Pyengana. The Tasmanian pinot is by Holm Oak and beer by Du Cane Brewers from Launceston.

Du Cane has something of a Tasmanian Walking Company heritage – its founder, Will Horan, was a TWC guide and used to pack beer in on the Overland Track; the company couldn’t justify flying bottled beer in (too much weight and waste in the glass) and why would they stock canned beer from some multinational mainland brewer?

So when Will left to embark on his brewing venture, as well as beers onsite in Launceston he decided to do some canning – you’ll now find Du Cane beer on all the TWC walks.

But back to the lodge. The spa, massage and treatment area is a short walk from the main building and a little further along must be one of the world’s best baths. Freestanding in its own pavilion, open to the north, it has you hovering above the bush, looking up the coast towards the lighthouse.

Your bath is onsen-hot (there’s a cold tap if you want to calm it down) and comes with some salts for the water and a scrub for cleansing. I’m soaking away, admiring the views, and who should come soaring through the sky but a white-bellied sea eagle, riding the updraughts.

I don’t think it’s hunting – just out enjoying life on the wing and life on the coast. So am I.

THE DETAILS

Walk
The Bay of Fires Long Weekend starts and ends in Launceston. Transfers to and from the coast, meals and drinks, accommodation, guiding and kayaking are all included. Three days and two nights from $1995 a person. There is also a longer five-day/four-night Signature Walk, from $2995 a person.
See taswalkingco.com.au

Fly
Jetstar, Virgin Australia and Qantas all have regular flights to Launceston from Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane, with flights from other capitals on a seasonal basis.

The writer was a guest of the Tasmanian Walking Company.