Back in the late 1960s, counterculture icon Timothy Leary told the world to “turn on, tune in, drop out”. Much has changed since then. The world is faster, louder and busier. People are connected all hours of the day and it’s harder to switch off than ever before.

Contrary to Leary’s philosophy, in our crazy, chaotic times we’re looking for ways to unplug, unwind and chill out. Journeying across Bass Strait, I left the rat race behind in search of a slower pace. Little did I know that on this trip with Tasmanian Vacations, I would find that the west coast of Tassie held the secret to peace, calm and breathtaking scenery.

Early temptation

Ten-thirty in the morning is a bit early for a drink, but when in Kempton you can’t skip the Old Kempton Distillery.

Based at regal Dysart House, the artisan distillery is in an old coaching inn built by infamous embezzler William Ellis in 1842. Rob Tyson, the distiller, takes us through the whisky-making process, sharing his intimate knowledge and passion for spirits. It gives us a new appreciation as we sample potent whiskies that make our eyes water and warm our bodies. When that settles, we move on to a smoother drop.

The stately Cask Lounge is a cosy setting to enjoy our gin, whisky and lavender liqueur. Scrumptious whisky fruit scones, lavished with jam and whipped cream, accompany the tipple and fill our bellies.

On the way out, we stop by the cellar door and pick up some souvenirs. The driving cap caught my eye. With our taste buds spoilt, we travel to Curringa Farm, an idyllic rural retreat that gives holidaymakers a taste of farm life. Here, you can learn about the art of sheep shearing, how clever working dogs round up sheep, and the importance of crops and landcare. Run by husband-and-wife Tim and Jane Parsons, the vast property offers modern rustic cottages with sweeping vistas of the unspoiled countryside, poppy fields and serene Lake Meadowbank.

The tranquillity of the landscape sets the scene for the farm’s star attraction – Jane’s Farm Cake, a popular local dessert. The sweet dish was the official engagement cake for Tassie royalty, Princess Mary and adopted son, Fredrik, Crown Prince of Denmark. Copenhagen’s Conditori La Glace, the oldest bakery in Denmark, chose the cake in a statewide competition. We’re excited to taste it, but unfortunately, it’s not on the menu today. We grill Jane for the recipe, but she remains tight-lipped, throwing her hands in the air and saying, “It’s a secret!”

Cruising down the river

The Spirit of the Wild sets off from the quaint village town of Strahan and cruises out of pristine Macquarie Harbour. The 34m catamaran eases through the narrow passage known as Hells Gates, over the ghosts of 16 shipwrecks, and down the Gordon River. That’s when the Tasmanian wilderness hits us. Nothing can prepare you for the dramatic transformation of the meek coastline giving way to mighty 500-year-old Huon pines. The rugged beauty of the Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park holds us in reverential awe.

Silence falls over the deck. It’s like people are too scared to disturb the peace. Soaking up this natural immersive experience, any worries I had are soon forgotten. They seem so insignificant out here, and so did I.

Moored at a small jetty, we make our way down to Heritage Landing, which is just a small pocket of the vast Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. Declared in 1982, this chain of national parks covers about one and a half million hectares – about one-fifth of Tasmania’s total land mass and is a precious natural and cultural artefact. The looped boardwalk leads us to a cool temperate rainforest. Enchanting moss-covered trees and blooming wildflowers look as if they’ve come straight out of a fairytale – it’s magic.

Expect the unexpected

“Look up ahead and you’ll see Mount Kate. It was named after Kate.” We didn’t expect a stand-up routine on the 20-minute drive to Dove Lake. But the shuttle bus driver, a bush Father Christmas with white wispy beard and deep tan, has us in stitches the whole way. His dry humour and deadpan delivery are comedy gold.

We did expect the grandeur of Cradle Mountain. Earlier, we’d seen it from the Rocky Mount Lookout, which gave us a sweeping view of Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park. But looking up at the bowed mountain from the banks of Dove Lake is something else altogether.

With Cradle Mountain standing tall to provide a spectacular background, this is a great spot to take a photo. Catering to walkers of all levels, from beginners to experienced hikers, there’s a wide range of tracks to tackle in the national park. Occasionally, platypuses, wombats, wallabies and echidnas pop up unexpectedly.

Winding down

“Shall we start the party?” Sandy is asking a rhetorical question. The cellar door manager at Josef Chromy Wines wins us over with her bubbly personality and eloquent, impassioned dissertation on Tasmanian wines. She talks us through a selection of cuvée, sparkling wine and pinot noir. Even though my unsophisticated palate doesn’t know Grange from pinot grigio, I happily swirl, sip and savour the drops.

The indulgence continues with a delicious two-course lunch of tiger prawns with polenta and blue-eye trevalla. Cheese and chocolate are the last thing we need, but Daniel Leesong – the owner of Coal River Farm – opened after-hours for us, so how could we say no?

Besides, it’s my birthday, and if you don’t live a little on your own big day, well, what’s the point? The handmade chocolates are bite-sized works of art and the cheese full-bodied and flavourful. The sweetness of the apple paste reminds me of my mum’s homemade recipe, which she took to her grave five years ago. This version just needs a couple more kilos of sugar.

The sweetness of the apple paste reminds me of my mum’s homemade recipe…

Ian from Tasmanian Vacations offers us a farewell gift, letting us loose in the gift shop. When I plonk a 60g jar of apple paste on the counter, he looks at me, puzzled. “Is that all you want?” he asks. “This is everything I want and more,” I reply.

Heading home

Tasmania is full of character. Driving back to Hobart, it dawns on us that we’d hardly seen a traffic light during our trip. There was a pedestrian crossing in Rosebery, a charming old mining town, but even that was probably too much.

It’s funny, I came to Tasmania searching for peace and calm. And yet, I really didn’t have to do anything. Because it found me.

Unplug: while driving through the highlands, I didn’t have phone coverage, internet, and for the most part, contact with the outside world. Unwind: unburdened by the mundane stresses, pressures, and distractions of everyday life, I was able to relax and take in everything around me. Chill out: I lived in the moment.

Anarchy reigns when we arrive at the airport. Waiting to board our flight outside gate six, I get a text. It seems in the mad rush to get my bags out of the hire car, I left something behind. My apple paste is still in the hire car, sitting snug in a coffee cup holder. A devastating reminder that I have well and truly landed back in the chaos.