We headed for the camp on the Huon River as it straight away, knowing the charm of the beautiful small town of Franklin. The RV camp there was $15 a night and worth it as it was so quiet and lovely.

Franklin once was a bustling hub of wooden boat building, and still retains an historic charm with heritage buildings and a strong maritime identity. There's a blend here of old-world charm and modern life in the neighbouring towns. Visitors can explore the Living Boat Trust to learn about the town's boat-building history - we had been there before and it's worth paying the entry fee. It's surrounded by rolling hills and orchards, and is the kind of place Jamie would love to live.

Before long our mate Damon came to see us. Him and his mate Geoff do YouTube videos under their moniker Seriously Series, and they've just done one on Tassie called Forgotten Tracks if you're interested. Damon had invited us to a BBQ of Landie people but I won't bore you with that here.

We spent the afternoon reading and eating Christmas cake, and watching birds and boats, had a yummy pasta for tea and slept a beautiful quiet night through.

I'd seen a poster on the board about swimmers meeting every morning, all year round, for a dip in the Huon, so awoke wondering if I had the courage to join a group of strangers for a freezing constitutional. Ghost Dad would have, I thought, and with his urging I put my swimmers on and my hooded towel and wandered down.

Wild swimmers are a friendly lot. They greeted me happily, gave me some advice - such as not to put my head under, and BREATH. There was about twenty of them, varying in ages, mainly older. They came from the hills with bags of ripe plums and homemade rhubarb cake, and unpasteurized milk from the farm for making yoghurt and cheese.

That's me you see, swimming with my elbow up in mock of the Loch Ness. I had ignored the warning to avoid dunking my head, as I was no stranger to cold water. 15 degrees is cold, but not too bad, and I needed to wake up. It fairly took my breath away, but if there's anything I know how to do is to breath, and wait for my body to calm. It's different to the ocean - still briny, but softer, and rich with tannins. If I stretch my feet down my toes warm in the warmer currents below. I stay in for a good twenty minutes, occasionally ducking below the surface.

I'm alive, I'm alive. Ghost Dad sucks in his breath and dives with me.

In winter they say it dips below 6 degrees, but they laugh and scream and drink tea from thermos. The mountains are covered in snow and the jetty is slick with ice. How wonderful, I think.

Afterwards I wave goodbye and defrost in the camper, hands wrapped around a coffee and shivering. We eat fried eggy bread and fries tomatoes for breakfast and watch the river.

With Love,

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