An English family – the Greenwoods – is coming to Maatsuyker for their first
experience in lighthouse keeping.
The school lessons will be through correspondence classes.
While Mrs. Greenwood will have to bake her own bread
and be self-sufficient generally.
Ships can't berth but the family must get ashore.
And this can have an element of adventure if there's a sizable swell running.
Getting to their new home doesn't end with this either.
There was a time when the only communication with Hobart was by carrier pigeon.
Now they have a radio telephone hook-up.
Everything on the island tells of ruggedness and heights,
and the new lighthouse family still has quite a distance to cover
before they finally make it.
Time is the thing. One family arrives and another leaves Maatsuyker.
With her children, Mrs. Claire Visser is going down to join her husband, Peter.
Meanwhile, the Greenwoods are about to embark on the big climb.
After three years on this lonely island, the Vissers are saying goodbye for good.
For them, no more of this.
And way up there is the Maatsuyker Lighthouse,
a sentry for shipping off Southern Tasmania.
From here, a beam goes out that can be seen 36 miles away.
There are three families on the island,
and new arrivals come well stocked up
because rough seas could well delay the Cape Pillar next time.
Gathering briquettes, the Greenwoods meet one of their neighbours.
To begin with, there's a certain newness about it all, until island life becomes daily,
weekly and yearly routine.
50 miles east of Hobart, Cape Pillar is separated by a narrow channel from Tasman Island.
The coastline of Tasman Island is so hostile that no landing
attempt is made by the work boats from the Cape Pillar.
People and supplies are plucked straight out of the boats by a flying fox device.
Even their pets made the journey with one of the families.
Mrs. Ruston and her husband Allan have transferred from the East Coast Eddystone Lighthouse.
60 feet above the sea, perched on the cliff face is the platform where everyone and everything must go.
It's not for the faint-hearted, Tasman Island, and when you do land finally
there are sighs of relief all round.
And the trip is just about over. Or is it? There remains merely the 800 feet of
cliff at an angle of about 45 degrees.
Experience has taught many lessons. Some sheep are kept here,
just in case the weather turns nasty and food cannot reach the three families which tend the lighthouse.
And again, it's the same story. Some arrive, others depart.
Life on Tasman Island is certainly not everyone's cup of tea.
There's a rather frightening majesty about the place and this appeals to many.
And someday they all must face this.
Although he arrived only a few minutes ago, Allan Rustan is already at work.
In three months time, depending on the weather of course,
the aerial maneuvering will happen again.
Supplies, mail, perhaps more comings and goings.