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Hooked on the island's secret spots

NORTH-EAST River has a great reputation for fishing, even among residents of Flinders Island. It's no small praise. These Furneaux folk know their fishing spots so it is with some expectation that we take the short drive from Palana, on the far north-west of the island,   across to the scale-fishing El Dorado to our east. We have no fishing gear but that's a minor detail. If the fishin's good by Flinders standards, you probably need to stand behind a rock to bait your hook. The North-East River estuary is about five kilometres long and thin, running roughly north-south like two downward-pointing fingers. It narrows to a neck at the northern tip where the road ends near Stanley Point. We leave the car and find four Victorian visitors casting surf rods into the channel. On cue, one of their number pulls a hefty Australian salmon out of the water. The point's well made. North-East River can deliver. We backtrack west and visit Killiecrankie Bay, which gives its name to the topaz  sold as diamonds on Flinders. It's a calm, overcast day _  hard to imagine the Roaring 39s (just outside the 40th parallel) whipping up storms in such a tranquil region. We also follow instructions from our host at Palana Retreat, Daryl Butler, who has suggested we visit the Docks, a series of secluded bays to the north of Killiecrankie, but get back in time to don mask and snorkel to snoop around the Palana boat ramp. It's rich in marine life. A lazy stingray and school of about 200 salmon stand out among the wrasse and sweep of kelp-strewn submarine granite. We are later told this  patch of water between Palana and Inner Sister Island to the north drops away to about 170 metres,  so there's plenty of fin room for all those sea critters. That night Mr Butler hosts dinner with a plump crayfish as the main course. We meet Killiecrankie residents Di and Ian Bayly, a semi-retired microbiologist and author. There's discussion of  freshwater desert holes known as gnammas, talk of the days when you could swap a crayfish for a sheep and the startling thought that there could be as many as 51 airstrips on Flinders Island. Between the crayfish, the company and the conversation, it's a wonderful first night on Flinders. The next morning we leave Palana and seek a coffee at Whitemark, following up on a suggestion to meet Thelma Shaik, who runs a gem shop next to the Whitemark hotel. You can buy faceted Killiecrankie diamonds set in jewellery or spend a dollar on a little sample bag. Across the road, we chat to the friendly volunteers at Strait Works Gallery and walk back to the car with a Flinders Island smile on the dial. A couple of people say g'day because that's what people do in an infectiously friendly place like Whitemark. We are about to take off for our next accommodation, Partridge Farm, when owner Rob Holloway hails the car to say hello.   We stop in the middle of the street in downtown Whitemark for a quick chat, bakery on one side of the road, Freckles Cafe on the other. Traffic congestion's not exactly a problem on Flinders. It's a place without traffic lights, without endless honking cars. It's some kind of paradise. The writer was a guest of Tourism Tasmania.