There is a difference between walking across land and walking with it. That distinction became clear to me over the four days I spent walking through Wukalina and Larapuna on Lutruwita/Tasmania’s eastern coast. What initially appeared as a remote and rugged landscape, breathtaking in its scale and beauty, gradually revealed itself as something far more complex. It was Country, shaped by thousands of years of Aboriginal culture, story and spiritual connection.
Guided by the knowledge of the Palawa people, I began to understand that land is inseparable from identity. The living sites we visited, and the stories attached to the places we walked through signified continuity rather than remnants of the past. Culture was not something remembered; it was present. Embedded within the coastline, rock formations, the native animals and the environment itself, it stands as an enduring representation of the First Nations peoples who have cared for this land for tens of thousands of years, an inextricable connection that continues today.
For me, a 20-year-old student based in Sydney, accustomed to constant movement and expectation, the experience felt quietly transformative. Removed from the fast pace of my life, I began to understand the art of disconnecting to reconnect, not only with Country but with myself. Through the stillness of the trail, the long stretches of coastline and quiet moments of reflection, a rare clarity emerged. Questions about direction and purpose, often drowned out by routine and distraction, surfaced with an honesty that was both confronting and grounding.
What struck me most was the universality of that reconnection. Each person who walks this path will experience it differently, shaped by their own past, perspective and questions, and yet, the opportunity remains the same. To walk with the land is to recognise that there is more to the world than what is immediately visible. The earth carries culture, memory and meaning far deeper than we often allow ourselves to see. To witness that connection and living presence, even for a moment, was a privilege. One grounded in the generosity of the Palawa people who continue to care for and share their land. The experience offered me perspective, reminding me that the land holds stories far older than my own, and that understanding begins with respect. In slowing down enough to truly listen, I left with a deeper appreciation for the enduring connection between Aboriginal people and Country, and a clearer awareness of my responsibility to honour that connection as a guest upon it.
Now that I have returned home, that connection I formed in Lutruwita has not dimmed. As I walk through nature, and ground myself in the earth, that awareness remains ever so present.
