There is an island at the bottom of the Earth playfully referred to as the end of the world, or the edge of the world, and if I did not know better, I could picture this to be true. Standing at the edge of some of the steepest cliffs in Australia on the Tasman Peninsula of southeastern Tasmania, I looked out over the steep, jagged coastline and the steel blue Southern Ocean. Although I knew the next bit of land south would be Antarctica, if the world were flat, I could easily imagine this to be the edge, where sailors would fall off a huge waterfall into a pit of dragons or something.
But wait. There really were dragons—right below me.