On Tasmania's east coast, just outside the small town of Bicheno, the ocean periodically fires a geyser of spray several metres into the air. Locals and visitors gather for it. Some hide behind a handy diamond-shaped rock. Others stand close and get thoroughly drenched. Photographer Andrew Wallace, quoted in the original piece, thought he'd found a safe squat and shot happily for a while — until a full-size eruption soaked him through two layers and killed his camera a few hours later. The show, he notes, delighted his wife no end.
So what's actually going on? A blowhole is essentially a sea cave with an exit at the top. It starts as a weak joint in the rock just above the waterline. Waves keep pounding, the cave grows inward and, if it meets a vertical crack, turns upward until it breaks the surface. When a swell rushes in, water is forced along the tunnel at rising pressure and explodes out of the opening. The geology takes thousands of years; the payoff takes a second.
Even on calm days the Bicheno Blowhole spouts a few metres high. When the weather roughs up, it can launch a funnel of water six metres above the exit point — and the water that comes out has been churned into a frothy, gritty spray you probably don't want in your mouth. Timing is unpredictable, which is exactly the appeal. Every eruption is different in shape and size, and even careful visitors get caught out. There's a small graveyard of drowned cameras to prove it.
Bicheno itself is a laid-back fishing town on the east coast, better known to many travellers for its penguin tours and as a stop on the drive between Hobart and the Bay of Fires. The blowhole is an easy add-on: a short walk from town, free to watch, and endlessly rewatchable because no two eruptions are the same. Go near high tide or after a blow for the biggest bursts; go on a fine day if you'd rather admire it than be rinsed by it.
Wear clothes you don't mind getting wet, keep a towel in the car, and think hard before raising a phone or camera anywhere near the rock lip. The spectacle is genuine — a rare landform doing something theatrically silly — but it rewards respect. Bring a raincoat, keep your distance if you're the cautious type, and if you insist on standing close, at least accept in advance that you'll be the entertainment for everyone else.
