Surf Breaks & Studio Nights in Tasmania: A 5-Day Artistic Coastal Escape for Surfers and Water Lovers

Steam curls off your coffee at Somewhere Coffee Bar as the first office workers drift down Elizabeth Street, the air holding that faint maritime smell from the harbour. The morning is about calibrating your eyes: glasswork and Tasmanian landscapes at Wooby Lane Gallery, then the more curated punch of Handmark’s Salamanca space, where canvases pick up the same muted blues and greys you saw flying into Hobart. Lunch at Restaurant Maria is all about texture – crisp-skinned fish, silky sauces, the slow movement of the river outside the Brooke Street Pier windows. By afternoon you’re in Despard Gallery’s upstairs rooms, light spilling in from Castray Esplanade, the floorboards creaking softly as you move from piece to piece. Dinner at Ogee shifts the mood north to Murray Street – dimmer light, wine glasses catching candle glow, plates that feel composed rather than plated. The night ends at Sonny, where the crackle of vinyl and the low murmur of locals make the bar feel like a shared studio – one where the work is conversation and the medium is wine. Tomorrow, the art moves outdoors, traded for sand, swell and the long lines of the east coast.

Morning comes with a drive out of Hobart, the city falling away as paddocks and scrub slide past the windows and the air takes on that briny edge. At Coastrider Surf Academy on Clifton Beach, wetsuit neoprene tugs against your skin and the sand squeaks underfoot as you follow your instructor towards the break, the steady roar of waves setting the tempo. By late morning, you’re rinsing off salt and heading inland to Mount Field National Park, where the air cools and smells sharply of wet fern and soil. Lunch is a simple affair on the way back, but the real focus is the shift from sea to forest: the drive through tall trees, the short walks that leave your legs pleasantly heavy. Russell Falls provides the day’s counterpoint to the surf – a veil of water over rock, the white noise of the falls replacing the crash of the ocean. Back in South Hobart, South Wine Bar offers a soft landing with its timber, glass, and local pours, before Altar Bar closes the loop: dark, grungy, and humming with live sound that feels like the city’s heartbeat. Tomorrow, you’ll trade this wild-west energy for the east coast’s long, pale beaches and slower tides.

The road to the east coast feels like a slow exhale, the city flattening into farmland before the Tasman Sea reappears in flashes of blue. In Bicheno, The Farm Shed: East Coast Wine Centre eases you into the day with the smell of good coffee and the sight of bottles lined up like a colour chart of the region, the staff talking you through vineyards as if they’re old friends. By late morning you’re tracing the shoreline to Skeleton Bay Reserve, where the white sand and orange-licked rocks of the Bay of Fires start to rewrite your sense of colour. Lunch is barefoot at Binalong Bay beach, salt drying on your calves as you eat with the sound of small waves licking the shore. The afternoon brings a different kind of collecting at MinT Gallery & Gift Shop in St Helens – ceramics, textiles, and local work that feels like a tactile map of the north-east. Back in Bicheno, The Farm Shed turns from café to wine bar mode for a simple, generous dinner, before Pablos Cocktails and Dreams in Hobart takes over the night with jazz, low light, and cocktails that taste like little stories. Tomorrow, you’ll pivot from long beaches to sculpted dunes and the raw edge of the Tasman Peninsula.

The day opens on the east coast again, this time with the drive south towards Coles Bay and the sense that you’re sliding along the edge of the island. Saffire Freycinet appears like a glass-and-timber mirage off the highway, a place where the line between lodge and landscape blurs and the view across Coles Bay feels almost too composed. After a slow breakfast and a wander, you continue down the coast, the road hugging the water before climbing into the hills towards Rocky Hills Retreat, where art and isolation share the same address. Afternoon takes you further north again in your imagination, to Sculptured Gallery at Clarence Point – a reminder that this island’s creative energy isn’t confined to the capital. The textures here are different: carved stone, shaped metal, pieces that look like they’ve been lifted straight from the surrounding landscape. Dinner is back in Hobart at a harbour-side bar like Gold Bar, where Tasmanian spirits rule the backbar and the conversation runs deep. By the time you slip into the dark intimacy of Voodoo Bar later, cocktails in hand, the day feels like a collage of surfaces – sand, stone, glass, and the smooth burn of good whisky. Tomorrow, you’ll close the loop with Bruny Island’s layered horizons and one last climb into the sky.

The ferry to Bruny Island feels like a small rite of passage, the car deck smelling faintly of diesel and salt while the upper deck catches the morning light on the D’Entrecasteaux Channel. On North Bruny, the climb to Truganini Lookout pulls your legs into gear one last time, the view from the top laying out the neck of the island like a sand-coloured brushstroke between two shades of blue. Down in Adventure Bay, 43 Degrees Bruny Island offers a softer, domestic counterpoint – warm timber, birds in the trees, and the hush of a sheltered beach just steps away. After a lazy lunch and perhaps a cold-water dip, the afternoon drive back to Hobart feels like rewinding your week in reverse. You pass through small towns, the city slowly reassembling around you until Elizabeth Street and Harrington Street feel almost familiar. Dinner at Trophy Room in North Hobart is your final plate-driven conversation with the island, while Pablos or another favourite bar stands ready for one last round if you’re not quite ready to call it. You leave with salt dried into your clothes, a camera full of sand, and the sense that Tasmania rewards those who come for both the swell and the stories.