Port Arthur

If the idea of skimming across dark, tempestuous waters nestled beneath towering cliffs too majestic to be real appeals to you-and let's be honest, it should-then the Tasman Island Wilderness Cruise practically demands your presence. Setting off from Port Arthur, a sleepy historical town known more for its convict-era ruins than adrenaline-packed adventures, this voyage zips along the edge of Australia's highest sea cliffs, geological marvels sculpted by thousands of years of relentless wind, rain, and waves hellbent on tearing the island apart. Onboard, bundled up tourists (a motley mix of rugged outdoor elves, selfie stick enthusiasts, and discerning wildlife nerds in binocular chic) gasp dramatically at albatrosses skimming waves and seals lounging smugly on stark rock formations. Aim to go in the morning, when wildlife is active, water calmer, and sunlight slices through swirling mist in cinematographic glory. Book a couple of weeks out, budget approximately $150 per person (because nature isn't just incredible-it's also capitalist these days), and for god's sake, bring a decent windproof jacket unless hypothermia features on your travel bucket list. Do it to humble yourself before nature's raw grandeur, do it for the exhilarating spray of saltwater in your face-or, at the very least, do it because "I nearly got blown off a zodiac beneath Tasmania's cliffs" is a story worth telling, preferably with exaggerated bravado over drinks later.

The Three Capes Track isn't just a walk; it's Tasmania's magnificently moody answer to existential soul-searching, with astonishing cliff-top views combined with just enough isolation to briefly entertain survivalist delusions. Set off from Fortescue Bay in the golden glow of early morning (trust me, the sunrise alone is worth the indignity of waking before seven), and over four days you'll traverse 48 kilometers of craggy paths, eucalyptus-scented forests, and precariously perched boardwalks. Historically, this rugged slice of southern Tasmania once served as a navigational nightmare for mariners who no doubt cursed its spectacular coastline as they sailed perilously close to jagged rocks-now conveniently repurposed into your bucket-list adventure. Book your hike at least a couple of months in advance-this isn't an impulse-buy scenario-and be prepared to cough up around 500 Aussie dollars; think of it as an investment in quality humility. Pack light but smart: sunscreen, blister plasters, a hip flask filled with Tasmanian whiskey, and layers-because Tasmania's weather makes London look stable. Whether you're in it for the jaw-dropping cliff-edge panoramas, the serenity of genuine wilderness, or simply the bragging rights of having survived Tasmania's notoriously fickle weather, the Three Capes Track promises unforgettable views and self-discovery-plus the unbeatable payoff of smug storytelling rights back home.

At Bangor Vineyard Shed in Dunalley, a laid-back hamlet perched at Tasmania's picturesque eastern gateway, the art of indulgence takes on an elegantly rustic-and mildly hedonistic-turn. Here, amid rolling vines once trodden by Abel Tasman himself (though he'd likely have traded his boots for a pinot grigio had he known better), you'll savor seafood so fresh the oysters practically wink back at you. Plan ahead-a week or two should do it-to snag a spot on the deck at lazy mid-afternoon, when the golden Tasmanian sun bathes the vineyards in a flattering Instagram filter. Budget about $50-$80 for a leisurely lunch and bottle (or two), and arrange reliable transport unless you prefer your road trips with severe grape-induced optimism. Pack sunglasses, a hearty appetite, and maybe a bit of historical irreverence-after all, you're sipping award-winning wine on land once notorious only as a convict outpost. Even if wine tastings aren't usually your thing, visiting Bangor Vineyard Shed is the sort of deliciously scenic escapade worth bragging about later at dinner parties, or, at the very least, embellishing shamelessly in travel memoirs.