Liawenee: A Snowy Journey of Soul, Silence & Friendship

Introduction: A Journey Beyond Snow—Friendship, Silence, and the Soul of Liawenee

They say the best journeys are not measured in miles but in memories. For us—three women from different corners of the world—our trip to Liawenee was more than just a travel plan. It was a retreat. A reset. A rare invitation into the wild arms of snow, silence, and soul-searching.

From the city life of Melbourne, we—Tiasa, Luna, and I—set out with backpacks and hope, not knowing that the tiny town nestled deep in Tasmania’s wilderness would change something inside us forever.

What started as a simple winter getaway became a powerful emotional experience. There were mornings filled with laughter, afternoons of quiet walks through frostbitten forests, and nights when we sat around a fire, unravelling our truths. We discovered hidden lakes, stumbled upon forgotten cabins, braved snowstorms, and yes fought, forgave, and healed.

This book is the full story of that unforgettable journey—told in two parts—where the snow wasn’t the only thing that covered us; it was also the peace, the clarity, and the truth we had long buried under everyday noise. 

The Snowy Escape Begins a Soulful Journey to Liawenee

 From Melbourne to a Place, We Couldn’t Even Pronounce

It all started with a lazy evening and a casual scroll through travel ideas. I was lounging on the couch in our cozy Melbourne apartment with my best friend, Tiasa. We were complaining about work, the rising noise of city life, and how everything felt like it was on repeat.

Then Luna, our American friend and flat mate, walked into the room with a mug of tea and an idea that changed everything.

“Have you ever heard of Liawenee?” she asked.

We paused. “Liena…what?”

She smiled, “Liawenee. It’s in Tasmania. It is snow-covered, off-grid, and utterly magical. No Wi-Fi. No people. Just nature, snow, and silence.”

That was it. That was the four.

Within the next two hours, we had booked our flights from Melbourne to Hobart, reserved a 4WD vehicle, and started browsing wooden lodges near Liawenee. It was spontaneous, reckless, and the most refreshing decision we had made in months.

 Road Tripping to the Edge of Silence

We landed in Hobart to the chill bite of Tasmanian winter air. After grabbing our rental car, we headed north to the Central Highlands. The road to Liawenee wasn’t just scenic—it felt like stepping into a different world. Snow-covered trees lined both sides of the road, the skies were heavy with clouds, and the GPS began to glitch as we got closer.

After a while, network signals dropped. We could no longer rely on Google Maps. We laughed nervously but kept driving, trusting road signs and handwritten directions from a local we met at a fuel stop.

Our 4WD crawled into Liawenee just as dusk began to settle in. The village wasn’t bustling or touristy. It was quiet—like the world had pressed pause.

The Wooden Lodge: A Cabin from a Dream

We checked into a wooden lodge tucked between snow-draped trees, with smoke gently rising from its chimney. It resembled a scene from a fanciful tale.

The interior was charmingly rustic:

• A stone fireplace at the center
• Wooden beams and warm lighting
• A small but well-equipped kitchen
• Three beds, layered in thick quilts
• No TV. No Wi-Fi. No signal.

It was both terrifying and exhilarating. In a world constantly connected, we were suddenly unplugged. And it felt… perfect.

We spent that first evening lighting the fireplace, unpacking our snacks and groceries, and playing a card game that Luna insisted would “bring out our true personalities.” Spoiler: I lost every round.

We had a simple dinner of instant ramen and toast, yet we ate it with a sense of royalty. Tiasa played soft music from her offline playlist. Luna shared stories about her snowy childhood in Vermont. And for once, we weren’t rushing. We were present.

 Waking Up in White Silence

The next morning, I woke up to the eerie glow of white light flooding through the window. I peeked outside: the world was blanketed in pure white snow. Trees wore snowy coats, rooftops were dusted with frost, and even our car looked like it had been swallowed by a snowstorm.

We geared up in layers—five each, no exaggeration—and stepped out. The cold hit us like a polite slap, but we were too excited to care.

The only sound was the crunch of snow beneath our boots.

We hiked up a small trail near the lodge, slipping, giggling, and, and stopping every five steps for photos. Luna tried to build a snowman, but it ended up looking like a melting ghost. We named it Snow Baba and took selfies with it.

It felt like being a child again—free, wide-eyed, and unapologetically joyful.

 A Little Mishap That Turned into a Core Memory

Midday, we decided to hike down a slope that toward Sowards a semi-frozen stream. Luna, full of energy, ran ahead—and slipped straight into a pile of soft snow.

For two seconds, we panicked. But when she sat up laughing with snow in her eyelashes and hair, we all burst out laughing too. We couldn’t stop.

The moment felt symbolic. We were far from home, knee-deep in snow, not entirely sure where we were going—and we were happier than ever.

story good- good-grip boots. And laugh more.

Evenings by the Fire: Where Time Slowed Down

As the sun dipped behind the mountains, the temperature dropped fast. Back in the lodge, we wrapped ourselves in blankets and made mugs of hot chocolate.

There was no TV to distract us. Our phones were silent.
So, we are taillike, Like, really talked.

We shared stories we had never said out Lou before.

• Tiasa opened up about a heartbreak she never told us about.
• Luna talked about missing home and how snow reminded her of simpler times.
• I just listened and felt my heart soften.

There was something sacred about that silence—not empty, but full. Full of warmth, comfort, and, and presence.

Later, we sang along to Tiasa’s playlist, played Uno (and argued about rules), and watched the fire crackle until sleep called us one by one.

Trip Budget Breakdown (Per Person)

Here’s what we spent, in case you’re planning your own snowy getaway:

worth every single dollar for the memories, we created.

Moments That Froze in Time

Everywhere we turned, there was beauty. Nature effortlessly.

• Trees reflected icicles.
• Footprints forming patterns on fresh snow
• Our shadows dancing in the soft light of lanterns outside the lodge

We weren’t professional photographers, but you didn’t need to be. Liawenee was photogenic on its own.

We took hundreds of photos, but some moments were only captured in our hearts—the kind you relive in silence.

 Planning Tips (So You Don’t Repeat Our Mistakes)

• Download offline maps before you are signaling.
• Pack proper boots and gloves—thermal layers arlifesavers.rs.
• Don’t rely on Loc shops— — bring your own groceries for Hobart.
• Start your Journe early—y — sunset comes quick in them fountains.
• Be okay with retinols—— — sometimes that’s where the meiosis.

What This Trip Taught Us

Liawenee wasn’t just a trip. It was a pause, a reset button for our chaotic lives.
It reminded that at

• Silence can be more healing than words.
• Friendship grows strongest with out distractions.
• Nature doesn’t ask for anything attention.

That night, as I lay in bed under thick blankets, realized something simple propound:

 Into the Snow—Sosnow—Storms, and Soul Searching in Liawenee

The Second Morning: Whiteout and Whispers

Our second morning in Liawenee started with a snowstorm.
Not the fluffy, picture-perfect snow from yesterday—but a wind-driven, howling whiteout.

We woke up to the sound of the wind howling like wolves outside. The lodge creaked gently, and snow smashed against the windows like tiny fists. For a moment, we stayed silent under our quilts. Luna broke the silence.

“Looks like the mountain gods are angry.”

We laughed nervously, but there was a thrill in it too.

We had no signal. No updates. And no idea when the storm would pass.

But this was why we came, wasn’t it?
To be away from everything predictable.

 Keeping Warm and Keeping Sane

We spent the first half of the day indoors, wrapped in blankets, socks over socks, boiling hot water just to hold the mugs in our hands.

Tiasa made eggs and pancakes with the last of our groceries. Luna played the harmonica (badly). I journaled quietly, watching the snow through the frosted glass.

We even wrote little notes on paper about what we were grateful for.

Some of our notes:

• “I’m grateful for friendships that let me be quiet.” – Me
• “Grateful for snow that forces me to slow down.” – Luna
• “I’m grateful I didn’t check Instagram today.” – Tiasa

Funny how boredom turns into stillness when you allow it.

A Mysterious Footpath Through Snow

By noon, the snowstorm calmed—just enough to tempt us outside. The world looked reborn. Whiter. Quieter. Like everything had been reset.

We followed a narrow trail we hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t marked on any offline maps. It was probably just an old animal track—but curiosity won.

With scarves wrapped tight and boots crunching on the thick snow, we walked into the unknown. Trees towered around us like guardians. Our breath clouded in front of us like slow-moving ghosts.

Then we saw it.

The Hidden Cabin in the Woods

Through the trees, behind a cluster of frozen bushes, we found an old, abandoned cabin. Wooden, small, and partly buried under the snow. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades.

The door was unlocked. The hinges creaked when we pushed.

Inside was dust, old furniture, forgotten books, and half-burnt logs in a stone fireplace. Time stood still.

It felt eerie—but also strangely peaceful. Like someone had once loved this place deeply and left quietly.

We didn’t stay long, but we left a note on the dusty table:

“Three girls from Melbourne and America were here.
Snowbound. Grateful. Curious. Inspired.
Whoever finds this, may your journey be warm.”

We folded the note inside a dry book titled Tasmanian Wilderness Legends and placed it by the window.

The Secret Lake That Took Our Breath Away

Continuing along the trail, we walked for another hour. And then we footmen—

A small, half-frozen lake, hidden between hills.
No signs. No paths. No human footprint.

The surface reflected the grey greyly like a mirror.
Silent. Sacred.

We stood there, speechless. Then sat down on a snow-covered log, just… breathing.

There were no photos taken. We made a pact to keep that moment just for us.
Sometimes, memory is better than megapixels.

 The Argument That Almost Ruined It All

By the time we returned to the lodge, we were cold, hungry, and exhausted.

While cooking dinner, Luna and Tiasa got into a stupid argument about who forgot to pack the emergency food tin. Voices rose. Accusations flew.

I tried to mediate, but I was tired too.

We ended up eating in silence, the earlier magic of the lake suddenly far away.

That night, each of us went to bed without speaking.
The lodge was quieter than ever.

 Apologies and Aurora

At 4:30 a.m., Luna shook me awake.

“Get up. You have to see this.”

Groggy, I stumbled out of bed and followed her to the window.

There it was— aurora, soft green and purple lights dancing across the sky.
Not dramatic like in movies. Just a subtle shimmer. But enough to make my breath catch.

We woke up Tiasa too. The three of us stood in pajamas, wrapped in quilts, shivering but awestruck.

Tears rolled down Luna’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Tiasa hugged her. “Me too.”

No more words were needed.

 A Morning of Stillness

The next morning was our last full day in Liawenee.

We didn’t do much.

Just walk lowly. Talked about life. Sat by the fireplace and read parts of the book we found in the cabin. Tiasa braided my hair. I made instant coffee, and Luna roasted marshmallows.

No rushing. No schedule. Just soaking in the final hours.

We each wrote something on a shared page in my journal:

🌟 “Snow is like time—it erases footsteps ut leaves behind feeling.”

🌟 “Sometimes the best way to find yourself is to get a little lost.”

🌟 “Thank you, Liawenee. You froze our stress and melted our walls.”

 Packing Up, Slowing Down

The next morning, we packed quietly. Folded blankets. Washed dishes. Stared out the window one last time.

We loaded the car in silence—not the awkward kind, but the sacred kind.

Driving back down to civilization, our phones began to beep again. Notifications. Emails. Missed calls.

But we didn’t check them immediately.

Something had shifted in us.

 Conversations on the Drive Back

As we drove back to Hobart, we shared our favorite moments:

• Luna: “The hidden cabin. It felt like touching someone else’s forgotten dream.”
• Tiasa: “That silent lake. I felt like I existed in a poem.”
• Me: “The snow fight. When Luna fell. We all laughed like kids. I needed that.”

We also listed what we had learned:

• That we’re stronger than we think.
• That silence doesn’t mean emptiness.
• That friendship can stretch, bend, and still not break.
• That nature doesn’t need to impress us—it just needs to be seen.

Trip Recap and Hidden Costs (Per Person)

In addition to the first day’s expenses, here’s what we spent during our lodge days:

So the total per person for the whole 4-day Liawenee experience? Around $592 AUD.

Worth it? Every cent.

Lessons from Liawenee

1. Snow doesn’t care who you are—it softens everything equally.
2. No Wi-Fi = deeper connection.
3. Lodges are for storytelling. Not scrolling.
4. You don’t need a luxury resort to feel rich—you just need real moments.
5. When lost, follow the trees. They never lie.

Would We Go Again?

Absolutely.

But next time, we’d:

• Stay an extra day just for reading and writing.
• Bring proper snowshoes.
• Leave behind even more tech
• Write a letter to our future selves and hide it in the cabin.

Final Words: What We Carried Home

We returned to Melbourne physically, but emotionally full.

Liawenee didn’t just give us memories—it gave us meaning.
It reminded us that stillness is not wasted time, that snow can heal, and that sometimes the most beautiful places are the hardest to reach.

Elijah Lascelles

Hi, I’m Elijah Lascelles from the east coast of Tasmania. I studied tourism and started a small tour agency with my friends. We love traveling around Australia. On HaleBoop.com, I share my simple travel stories and experiences from all over the country.