When the borders reopened on December 15, 2021, thousands of locals made the decision to self-isolate.

And it was not because we no longer wanted to support local businesses, rather, we did not want to risk being the family that had complications due to Omicron, even though we are constantly told that it is a mild variant.

Subsequently, attractions, events, pubs, and eateries were left to mainlanders who were keen to leave their respective states after perpetual lockdowns and experience what Tasmania has to offer.

Replacing us were returning and first-time visitors who made their way across the Strait with their fascination for things that we take for granted.

Dairy cows are interesting but not worthy of a photo unless your number plate gives away your hometown and you are visiting from "The Education State", "Sunshine State", or "The Nation's Capital".

The cows, determined to "Explore the possibilities", are just as relaxed as Tasmanians in general.

And with the advent of robotic dairies, they now wander up to the shed when their milk lets down or when they fancy a scratch from a mechanical massage therapist.

But when interstate tourists take family selfies with Holstein Friesian heifers in the background you know that some things are getting back to quirky normal.

The young cows, not fazed by much, appear to find the attention unnecessary with their dismissive snorts and nonchalant glances hiding anger at not being asked to pose for social media check-ins for all to see.

On a far more serious note, the arrival of mainlanders also highlights their lack of awareness of Tasmania's dangers with ill-preparedness, at times, placing them in unexpected circumstances.

Many of us hold special memories of the Cataract Gorge Reserve because we recall significant moments of our lives in an extended backyard.

An unquestionable place of contrast, its beauty derived from lava flows two hundred million years ago, first inhabited by the Palawa before beaming with colonial pride as Victorian buildings and infrastructure dotted the landscape.

As a youngster, with no experience of death, witnessing emergency services and volunteers searching for a swimmer who drowned was an afternoon I will never ever forget.

The recent tragedy taking the life of a young mainlander who found trouble in the Basin brought those memories instantly back.

Quite honestly, I never thought a swimmer would lose their life in the Gorge again, but then you reflect that the South Esk is a mighty and powerful river often slowed by the Trevallyn Dam yet devastating in its beauty when water released by Hydro Tasmania comes tumbling down the Cataract.

Our parents never allowed us to swim in the Basin as children, that only happened later when we were teenagers, because of the dangers including extreme depth, dark water, cool temperatures, submerged logs, hidden dolerite ledges, and fast flowing water. It is a swimming hole that may look serene but like all waterways involves an element of risk.

As more people visit our shores, allowing children at the beach to experience the water appears a challenge for parents. Some youngsters are so enveloped and laden in life-saving equipment that it must be hard for them to breathe.

This is not a criticism, just an observation that living in Australia involves risk and danger and the best way to teach our children to swim is to encourage them to feel the natural buoyancy of water. And as I have written before, I am not from a family of swimmers, but we worked hard to develop confidence and technique.

The tension between aided floating and enjoying the water in a more natural state is a tough predicament, yet your children will thank you for years to come if you help them develop love and respect for water.

Mainland number plates are also resplendent on hire company campervans.

These hire vehicles are often driven by city slickers in the latest fashions who struggle to understand that rear wheel drive high-top vehicles are rarely perfect for Tasmanian roads and campsites.

Consequently, when camping in one of the most beautiful parts of Tasmania where self-sufficiency is mandatory, we came to the aid of a hire van stuck in a bog hole following the thunderstorms also brought to us via the mainland.

With granite aplenty and under the instruction of a reassuring supervisor, we went about filling the hole, pushing slabs against the rear wheels, yet they continued to spin.

Entering the water with a camping spade in hand my thong plugged, and I was forced to reach down and recover summer's most essential fashion accessory.

You can imagine the masked-up scene; appreciative tourists thankful that help was on hand and rescuers covered in the dirtiest and stickiest east coast mud that only a deep exfoliation using sand and saltwater could remove.

Eventually the hire van, commandeered and rescued with trusty local fill and a faithful towrope engaged by my far more practical mate, was set free much to the relief of all involved.

My thong reshod; I resumed pole position looking out on one of the most beautiful beaches in Tasmania.

We love our state, and we love to relax but we are also a people compelled to assist others when we must.

How good is Tasmania!