Imagine if you took your favourite stretch of surfing coast and, like a mighty Greek God, were able to bend it into the shape of a horse shoe. All your familiar bearings of where was offshore in what wind, and what swell direction favoured which break, would be thrown out the window.

This is Tasmania.

The Apple Isle is like the Australian mainland in microcosm – the wild and sparsely populated west coast, the frigid south harbouring jealously guarded secrets, the more benign, predictable east coast, the almost surfless north. The dedicated Tassie surfer knows all these disparate coasts, their characters and favoured surfing conditions intimately, will think nothing of driving its length and breadth in search of good waves. All in bitterly cold conditions that would make most mainland surfers cower indoors. They are the most committed and hardy surfers in the country.

I've dragged the family from one end of the island to the other, left them shivering in deserted National Park camping grounds as I drove about on a clueless quest for waves, driven for two full days on mad swell chases. Tasmania's lesson is one of complete surrender to the greater power of the elements.

After several fruitless or marginal surf missions, I thought I was on a sure thing. A big east swell was predicted and I had positioned myself to take full advantage of it at one of the State's premier point breaks.

Yet when I woke early the next day to partake of the fresh swell and predicted offshore winds, conditions outside looked cyclonic, as a deep low sat right on top of us. Crestfallen but desperate, I ventured out into the maelstrom regardless, drove for half an hour with barely 100 metres visibility along rapidly deteriorating roads, until the path ahead was a muddy, potholed goat track leading to a rough dirt car park. Incredibly, on this Thursday morning, miles from anywhere, the car park was packed.

I peered out into the grey haze but it was hard to discern a thing through the fog and drizzle and spray. Here, the wind was at least offshore and the swell was clearly up, but it was raw and wild. We were returning to Hobart that afternoon, with the offer of a friends' house for the weekend too good to pass up. I’d promised my wife a day off in the city as compensation for all her dutiful tolerance of my swell tracking. This was my window.

And so I suited up and paddled out and hoped for the best. On the beach, a young bloke came staggering out of the shore break, wide-eyed and panting. "I just saw the biggest fin out there" he wheezed. "I thought, bugger that."

What did I do now? Walk back to the car park dry and change out of my wetsuit? I'd come too far for that. I paddled out regardless, peering about me into the all-pervading shades of grey sea and sky, trying to discern any sudden movements of large grey marine creatures. It seemed mad.

I got to a spot about 500 metres out where the ragged swells seemed to stand up into rideable walls. There was not a soul about. I've never been so disappointed to have the surf to myself. Where was everyone? I peered out towards the horizon and saw someone kick out of a wave another 500 metres out. I was only halfway to the line-up, after 30 minutes of determined paddling. These guys are nuts, I thought, as I steeled myself to the mission ahead.

I found a couple of wide fat walls amid the chaos of it all, before getting comprehensively cleaned up by a wide rogue set and was washed halfway to the beach, defeated.

I am just beginning to understand what a challenging enterprise it is trying to take a family of four on an extended round Australia surf trip. Fortunately, spirits remain buoyant on the good ship Baker. And Tassie has delivered more than enough delights, on land and water, to ensure we’ll be back.

TOTAL DISTANCE TRAVELLED: 4208 km

SURF: Six to eight, feet long, right hand river mouth.

LOCAL TIP: The Best Western Hotel in Eaglehawk Neck has the most reasonably priced rooms with the best ocean views we've seen on our travels.

WORTHWHILE, AND FREE, TOURIST DIVERSION: The evocatively named Blowhole and the Devil's Kitchen on the east coast of the Tasman Peninsula are well worth a visit, especially if the swell is up.

BE KIND TO WILDLIFE TIP: You'll be shocked by the amount of road kill in Tassie. Try and avoid driving at dawn or dusk to reduce the chances of hitting something.