Love Notes From Strahan – Beartraps and Banter

Strahan is a sleepy little harborside town with a regular population of fewer than eight hundred – once the tourists have gone.

But don’t be fooled by the tranquil views. Underneath, this town bubbles with personality and subtle dynamics that trip up would-be settlers or long-term visitors.

My recent trip to the supermarket highlighted how important it is to keep my wits about me.

Inside the supermarket, Paul was unpacking eggs and he noticed me wandering past several times.  

‘What are you searching for?’ he asked after noticing my umpteenth circuit of the tiny IGA.

‘Aspirin,’ I replied.

‘Far aisle,’ he pointed.

‘Thanks.’

‘Not much variety in the chemist next door,’ Paul added. ‘And he keeps limited hours.’

‘I noticed someone new there this morning. Is Sam not there anymore?’

Sam, the local chemist and his wife are in their twenties. I’d met them at a social gathering last year. But the man I’d seen in the chemist earlier looked world weary, and was bald.

‘He just had a baby,’ Paul said, opening another carton.

‘I hope Zoe had the baby,’ I quipped.

‘Me too,’ he shot back. ‘But hey, we ARE in Tasmania.’

I walked away laughing at his quick wit, acutely aware how self-deprecating humour is embroidered into the fabric of social contact here.  

Later that night, planning dinner, I was reminded of just how interconnected this community is – and how easy it is to step into a bear trap without realising.

I wanted burritos for dinner. Scanning the fruit and vegetables, I saw only six tomatoes – I’d have to make do with ready-made salsa. I grabbed tortillas, cheese, lettuce, sour cream and a few other items.

At the register, the server – someone I have socialised with on more than one occasion, though I hardly ‘know’ her – put through my purchases. As she hit the total sales button, she fixed me with a look.

‘What are you buying that for?’

I was a little taken aback. In mainland Australia nobody questioned my purchases.

‘Umm, I fancy a huge feed of burritos?’

‘I don’t mean that,’ she said, reaching into my groceries and pulling out a large jar of honey. ‘This.’

I was puzzled. ‘I use that instead of sugar in my tea and coffee.’

‘There’s honey over the road,’ she harrumphed.

My mind went blank as I mentally scanned the street where the IGA is located. Only houses. Was I was missing something? Then it clicked.

Her husband keeps bees. They recently set up a honey stall outside their home. Oops, I wasn’t supporting the locals. My bad.

‘Ah, is it cheaper than this one?’ I asked, hoping to smooth things over.

She scanned the bottle of honey and checked the screen. ‘No. That’s $70.72 all up,’ she sniffed.

I paid for my groceries and left, feeling her eyes boring into my back. Walking to my van I realised something: here in Strahan, I’d better think twice before reaching for IGA products when locals make the same thing. Otherwise I might step into more bear traps and limp around town on sore feet.

Strahan is a beautiful, charming, and welcoming town – one that laughs at its own peculiarities and hides occasional bear traps. The quick-witted banter and self-deprecating humour make life here unpredictable and unforgettable. And every day I find myself falling more deeply in love with it.