Completed circuit

We didn’t have much time in the morning, so after being told how many famous people stay at the hotel by its gregarious owner - apparently Margaret and David from the movie show were also staying on our floor! (Separate rooms we wonder.....?) – We didn’t want to burden him with the knowledge that the stars of this blog could also now be in his repertoire – so we wandered into town again. Launceston is a pretty town to stroll into and have breakfast after a sleeping in on a sunny day. There is very little hustle and bustle but enough friendly people around to make the place warm and welcoming.
It was with heavy hearts we boarded the Renault (V2) for the last time and let Petunia B-S guide us to the airport. We headed down the highway where ended up on the roads we were on a week ago and thus completed our exploration around the outside of the Map of Tassie - we’ll have to wait to explore the innards some other time.
We sat around the airport in a now well practiced drill (book, laptops, newspapers and photos) of which we are adept at after all these adventures. The flight home was short, the airport experience at the end much more pleasant than international arrivals at Tullamarine and we ended up home on a bright sunny Melbourne Autumn afternoon - with the typical mountain of washing and the usual struggle to come to terms with normality to deal with.

For the record, we (well Izzy did the whole thing actually) ran a very comprehensive scoring system on the accommodation. Here is the summary:-
Criteria : Room, Location, View, Weather (total average out of 10)

Stanley - 2nd at a score of 7.86

Strahan - 6th at a score of 5.8

Hobart - 7th at a score of 4.75

Port Arthur - 5th at a score of 6.4

Coles Bay - 4th at a score of 6.8

St Helens - 1st at a score of 8.13

Launceston - 3rd at a score of 7.06

Touring the tops of the trees

The day dawned with brightness behind the grey and progressively got better for there. After a hurried start of hot cross buns for brekkie overlooking the serenity of the bay from our porch we threw everything into the car and headed off to Launceston. 5 minutes on we realised that Petunia Bothington-Smythe (our GPS voice) was taking us on the boring route, so we did a U-Turn and instead went over the mountainous north east corner of the Island.
This route showed us landscapes ranging from flat green pastures through thick forests (incl. Myrtle) to high plains barren vegetation (this may have been a result of Gunns operations – sometimes hard to tell). And indeed quite often all of these were showing in single vistas. A coffee break at Scottsdale and then an hour later we were heading into sunny Launceston.
After locating our accommodation (owned by an overly zealous Historic Ex-Hawthorn Players Spotter) we wandered into town for lunch and an acclimatisation experience. We then checked into our room and hopped back into the car for our elevated experience.
The tree tops adventurer was purposely left to the last day to give us some excitement after sitting in the car for a week. It was a bonus (to us) that the weather was perfect for the event. The idea of this theme park is twofold 1. Make money 2. Give people an exciting few hours that they don’t mind contributing to idea no 1.
They have seven flying foxes in a course strung down the side of a forested mountainside and over a substantial mountain stream. It’s all perfectly safe (if you leave the equipment alone) however still nerve raking when you’re hanging off the side of a huge mountain ash, 30 meters up surrounded by a tangle of wires, pulleys, ropes, a gaggle of people you don’t know and some blasé guides who swing through the jungle like Tarzan (or in our case.... Jane).
The adventure took 3 hours to complete. 2 hours, 59 minutes of this was preparing, listening to instructions and waiting in line. The other 60 seconds dangling from wire at ridiculously high altitudes and at high speeds seemed to make up nicely for the rest of the time.
Seriously good fun. The final long run goes for 400 meters, crosses the river 50 meters up at speeds of up to 80 km per hour. So with our wheels squealing and voices shrieking we tried our best to scare the begeebees out of the wildlife surrounding us. Needless to say the wildlife has better things to do than worry about a noisy pack of flying drongo’s.
We all received certificates to authorise us for...ummm.. not sure actually. They do look official though.

Heading back to town we decided to shun the pack of HEHP’s having diner in the Hotel lobby and instead walked down the street to discover every place was full due to the game being played in town the next night. So we weedled our way into a place (drinks at a pub up the road until a table became free) and enjoyed another great dinner surrounded by the trendy Y Gen (Tassie Branch).
Back to the hotel room for a later than normal night (bed at 9:30 - night owls - woo hoo!). Tomorrow will be the riveting finish to the trip by getting back home (which means this was really the last day).

Wet and Windy in Freycinet

The day started full of promise and enthusiasm, and then we looked out the windows... The overcast and drizzle interspersed with showers had returned. Our cabin in Coles Bay has a great outlook over the roofs of the campervans and tents to the tree lined water beyond. Unfortunately most of it was yet again obscured by the inclement weather. As it turns out we have just happened to be in Tassie for the wettest week in 50 years. That’s one in 2600 weeks. We are so lucky.....
Unperturbed we wandered down to the bakery to empty them of pastries (breakfast in our abode) and then headed off to the National Park to explore the wilderness and take in the sights. At least the resulting photos are not the same old boring postcard ones that everyone else takes.

We drove through the hilly, narrow, tree lined winding roads towards Cape Tourville lighthouse hoping that the weather would break so we could do the hour long walk to view Wineglass bay. The Lighthouse and walk around the top of the cliffs was exhilarating, mostly because of the exposure to the extreme elements, partially due to the glimpses of majestic coastline occasionally revealed through the waves of showers drifting in from the Tasman sea.

Our stroll through the dripping forest to Sleepy Bay would be fascinating in any weather. When we got the bottom of the gully the gravel beach with the creek trickling its way into the sea all surrounded by wind carved rocks made the trek worthwhile. A brief stay inside a cave whilst another shower past provided a brief insight into what the (unfortunately now removed) indigenous inhabitants of the area would have experienced for thousands of years- except we had gortex raincoats.
Giving the area a final chance to prove its majesty we went to the Freycinet Lodge for a cuppa and taste of how the rich people live whilst giving rain a chance to ease. The facilities are amazing, the beverages the same as everywhere else and the weather not changing. Refreshed but somewhat disappointed that we missed on the chance to see Wineglass Bay we left to drive north.
Typically, the weather cleared to occasional showers as we drove through Bicheno (where the blow hole was blowing really well in the offshore gales) and along an amazing coastal road to St. Helens. All of the rivers in the area are overflowing and there are many signs of roads being blocked in the last dew days. Luckily we got through with no hiccups.
Our cabin on top of the hill has a great outlook over the bay and is quite spacious and well appointed. Happy with our cheapest accommodation to date, we spent the afternoon deciding on where to have dinner.
A part of this exploration was a trip up to Binalong bay which has the whitest sand and reddest painted rocks (lichen) ever seen (by us). This combination creates a photogenic opportunity of which we took full advantage. As one of the aims of the trip was to experience Cray we eventually went back to the locale for dinner. At the Cafe here we watched the day fade away over the Bay of Fires as we munched on a feast of seafood, local wines and other delights.
Curiously (!) we ended up back in our cabin by 7:30 and thinking about yet another early night. Knowing full well that the morrow will be delivering a day full of high wire antics....

Tenacity triumphs!

It just goes to show that the anti goodtime forces can be overcome if you persist long and hard enough. Early morning phone calls (ruininng holiday sleep ins...) resulted in Budget coming through with the goods.
At around 9:30 a truck arrived with a different version of the same model on the back, we headed back up the road to the pub, swapped them over and we were on our way. The difference in versions is twofold. 1. It is a nicer colour. 2. The windscreen wipers work.( 2.5 when they do – they don’t squeal at us). So even in the driving rain (yep it’s still commin’ down) we can hear each other and the radio. Unfortunately we can’t hear Ro’s birthday CD because it was left in the other car. The pluses just keep adding up...

We arrived at Port Arthur in the continuing downpour, purchased our tickets and headed down to the Marina in the depressing gloom and went on a 20 minute cruise of the harbour. This was great (even in the rain) where we did a loop of the Isle of the dead (curiously leaving people there but not picking any up) and saw various other fog/rain shrouded watery sights. We then went on a walking tour where the akubra topped; dry-as-a-bone wearing guide explained some of the history and layout of the site. The sea of umbrellas and ponchos following in her wake was a sight to behold. Like bedraggled rats we eventually wandered through various museums and asylums to emerge to the glorious sight of no rain.
Showers (on and off) for the rest of the day but we felt like we had beaten those humidity based oppressors and had come out the other side of the battle with ... well... a different colour car - and no hours lost. Apparently they have not had rain like that in the region for 10 years. Just how lucky can we be heh?
And so we headed north, crossing multitudes of frothing creeks and riverlets, it was a thoroughly enjoyable drive through the picturesque landscape. Like most of the state (apart from Hobart) the roads are really quiet and as such a pleasure to be on. When we hit the coast again the wind had stopped and the waters had turned mirror like. The smell in the air was of fresh oysters and Coles Bay awaited us.

When we got there we were greeted by the sight of the Hazards glowing in the setting sun (as the mountains in Tassie tend to do when not obscured by rain) and the burnt out remains of the petrol station. The fire had disabled the chef of the restaurant next door and as such we thought that dinner was going to be spaghetti out of can (not that we had one). Luckily the other establishment in town was still working. The Pub had great meals and local beverages which are great quality. This was a 2 minute walk from our luxurious cabin and as such we feel invigorated and ready to hit the walking tracks of the National Park tomorrow.

Thwarted by the Rain Gods

They have it in for us – no doubt about it. Either that or the spirits of Port Arthur really don’t want us visiting them.

We woke to a grey view of the street showing a light drizzle, the rain radar showing nothing much and a forecast predicting well...rain. Suitably armed with the hotels umbrellas we headed over to Salamanca place for breakfast. Whist we were there the rain persisted, so we decided we need to get our own armoury and after checking out and extracting the car we headed up to Target’ for shoes, coats and umbrellas. Finding the queues in the car park most cordial we eventually got our goods and headed off to the Museum of Modern and Ancient Art. All the whilst listening to the squealing sound of the wiper motors mentioned in previous posts.
The MONA is an amazing place – Art to the extremes – designed to delight and intimidate. It succeeds on all levels. (“Seen one – seen them all”.... indeed not Madam, a closer inspection reveals they are all indeed remarkably unique). The building itself is a masterpiece - They recognise that not having windows in not ecologically friendly. It does help with the ambience of the place though.
In our case it also blocked out the fact that the rain was continuing in earnest outside.
After being thoroughly entertained for a couple of hours we came back out and headed off to Port Arthur for an education in the worst of our ancient and modern history of our great land. Hobart can be resplendent with its extensive waterways and high mountains framing the city and surrounds. Mt Wellington was spectacular in its ability to hide itself today. The picturesque waterways of the drive down the Tasman Peninsular were hidden behind the fog of the ever increasing downpours. A brief lightening of the sky was simply a precursor to a particularly heavy dump.
A brief stop at a roadside market saw us secure some famous Apple Isle apples (when in Rome...). We arrived at our wonderfully located beach side huts mid afternoon. Not only does this contain the first working ½ flush toilet we have encountered in Tasmania, the position is absolutely amazing – being right on the beach we could enjoy the fresh air, calm waters and views across the bay to pristine forested hills. That is if the driving rain wasn’t obscuring the view and keeping us indoors. So we decided to drive down and have a look at the Port anyway, even though it’s mostly outdoors. 30 minutes later and 5k’s from our destination we discovered why the wipers were being so noisy. In that they stopped working altogether.

So there we were – literally and the end of the earth, no wipers, constant pouring rain, no phone signal and darkness due in an hour or so. Decision time....
The drive back was an interesting experience. Constant searching for phone signals, careful navigation by vague white lines and the tail lights of the bus in front leading the way. It didn’t take too long for the crew to realise this was not the time for cheap point scoring. We eventually made it safely back to Dunalley Pub where we could use their phone, call the appropriate services and partake their wares (the pubs that is). The RACT guy couldn’t resolve the problem (can they ever these days?) and so here we are – Back in our remote beach side hut (got a lift back from the barmaid) with no transport and a vague plan for getting some tomorrow.
The rain continues to bucket down and the forecast indicates that it will continue to do so. Someone up there really does not want us to get to Port Arthur.....

Headin’ East in topsy turvy land

The norm for Tassie is the weather comes from the west, the mountains catch the rain, the east stays dry. We can see the effects of this as the grass on the west is green, it’s brown in the east. By some quirk of fate we happen to be here as a cold front comes in from the east. This means it was bright and sunny in Strahan when we awoke and it got darker and wetter as we journeyed over the mountains to Hobart.
Not letting the forecast getting us down, we had a thoroughly delightful time traversing the endless winding roads and the ever changing vistas of the wild mountainous country. The climb up to Queenstown incorporates 199 bends in the road. Not missing any of then we arrived to a cry from the back seat –“look there are people” (it had been a tad quiet over the last couple of days). Nevertheless the illusion was nicely broken by a distinct lack of any hustle and bustle anywhere else in or around the town. For a central locale, full of history, buildings and apparently still operating mines the place seemed distinctly deserted.
We did manage to get a coffee before heading up the winding road and into the vividly painted, desolate hills that the town is renowned for. Note to self – don’t eat the soil here – there’s got to be very good reason why nothing grows on it.
Popping over the ridge we soon found ourselves on the other end of the ecological spectrum as we dove into the world heritage park which was founded by a bunch of tree hugging hippies in the 1980’s.
The Franklin –Gordon Wild Rivers National park has some absolutely fantastic sights to see. The Nelson falls, the Franklin River, Lake St. Clarie and at Derwent bridge there is a piece of developing artwork - which depicts the struggle, pain, suffering and hard endeavours of the early pioneers in a huge relief carved out of Huon pine. We did extremely well to miss all of these.
On the other hand we did stop to take an hour long return walk up to Donaghy’s Hill. The panoramic views were(are) incredible. This shows the wilderness at its best and it’s easy to see what the chlorophyll aligned folks have been on about all this time.
On the way down the escarpment we drove around various lakes and lagoons amongst the grasslands of the high country and corpses of stunted gums. The water system (as it turns out) is the top of huge system of lakes/locks/canals and aqueducts (no rats) which feed into huge pipes ploughing down the sides of mountains and end up in power stations. Fascinating stuff - this thing called human ingenuity.
As we headed into the Derwent valley we were bedazzled by the (seemingly) popular poplars in full autumn bloom. The quiet hamlet of Hamilton seems destined to ever remain so...
The river drew us into Hobart where we were greeted with rain and traffic jams (just like home). It was an interesting comparison to what we had experienced over the last few days in the wilderness. Our accommodation is right on the harbour and as such has that redeeming feature. The car park underneath took us ½ hour of manoeuvring to get it in. Getting out in the morning may require a can opener ....
We spent the late afternoon and evening wandering around the waterfront, soaking up the seafaring sights, hangin’ in trendy cafe’s and taking delight in the local delicacies (seafood mostly). And then back to our sardine can for the night. No complaints though - the position is amazing.

South to Strahan

Being greeted by another show when we arose made us come to the conclusion that Stanley is the rainbow capital of the world. Coincidence maybe, however the place is so quaint, optimately located and full of unexplored delights we vowed to return (one day). And so full of expectations we headed off into the hinterland of the west coast. The rolling green hills perfectly matched the winding roads as we drifted through many places without postcards (not that we stopped to look for them).
Eventually we headed into Gunns country where every tree is either precisely located or a recent memory. We stopped for a brief walk through the subtropical rainforest in Hellyer Gorge before more winding roads and spectacular scenery on the way to Tullah where we grabbed some take away for lunch. McDonalds and the others don’t get a show in around these here parts.

Ignoring Rosebury and thus deciding to take the long way, we took the road over to Reece dam and got to see some fabulous high plains type country side on the way. Isabel was so excited that she decided to try out for the Toyota ad campaign – right idea but wrong brand. Pity the occasional rain keeps reminding us about the ridiculous noisy wiper motors...
Reece Dam is an engineering marvel and a great example of how we can avoid burning fossil fuels by drowning pristine eco systems instead. It was a little eerie as we were the only people around for miles (it seemed) and yet there was all this construction undertaken to drive a power station which was obviously not in use. Maybe it was because it was Sunday afternoon, perhaps everyone is back in town – so we set off to Zeehan to find out.

After sussing out the museum and deciding that the allure of our destination was too strong to hang around, we left – admiring the architecture of the town as we drove through. One gets the feeling that this is banjo country and to upset the locals would see your up and commance being rendered deliverance style.
Strahan is a quiet peaceful place which was still recovering from the Targa Tasmania swarming through the town the previous night. Swinging beside the picturesque Macquarie Harbour was windswept, chilly whilst it was nicely glowing in the late afternoon yellowing sun. Due to time constraints we won’t get the chance to do what one should do here (Cruise up the rivers, travel on the train or fly over in a sea plane). Instead we went to the pub for a fabulous dinner and back to our cosy apartment for another early night.....can see a pattern forming here.

Torrents at the Nut

Up at 5:00 am to get on our flight at 8:00. It was a nice warm Autumn day in Melbourne and the weather extended all the way across the Straight to reveal a clear crisp day in Launceston. It’s a strange inverse relationship that the smaller the airport- the more efficient it is. We collected our rocket from Budget’ (no French accents anywhere - curiously) and hit the road. The Renault Koleos has everything – start button, GPS and a few surprises. Trying to keep the speed down to the standard 110km was tricky with such a quiet ride. It seems that even though they have higher speed limits here, things are much more relaxed on the roads. I guess any driving experience different from the overly policed Nanny State has to be good.
Completely ignoring the hamlet of Launceston we stopped for brunch at Hobnobs in Westbury . Not a Dave in sight – however it was very pleasant consuming our scones and tea amidst the picturesque surrounds of the quaint town whilst the sky was slowly becoming more threatening.
Experiencing the hilarity of constant roadside outfit changes due to the varying conditions we headed west - noting the ferry at Devonport and the log piles at Burnie on the way. We ended up on top of Table Cape with a huge drop to the ocean, a lighthouse and fields full of dried onions, all lined up drying ready for collection, it took us a while to figure out why they were leaving perfectly good onions lying around on the ground – from now on we’ll appreciate the journey they go through before reaching the supermarket shelves.

Arriving in Stanley the rain was finally looking serious and we made the decision to take the chairlift to the top of the Nut anyway. The view was great, the wind was starting to blow and the rain was looking like.. ..well ....rain, so instead of hopping off and exploring the top we stayed on board and headed back down. Good choice, as it just got heavier and heavier. Cursing the rain gods and their recalcitrant ways we headed over to the Historic Highfield Homestead. This is a fascinating insight into the history of the area – it all seems so grand and heroic until the truth hits home in that it was built on slave labour (convicts) and genocide (local inhabitants). Our race’s ability to create suffering on others for our own personal benefit seems to be endless.

150 years later finds us luxuriously sitting high off the road, cruising back into town in our sleek machine all seemed to be good with world apart from the sound of the windscreen wiper motors which sounds curiously like someone on an oxygen ventilating system. Well timed hands from the back seat grabbing the throat of the front passenger at appropriate intervals helped add to the illusion of the vehicle being haunted. Unless Renault fix this noise – don’t buy one.
By the time we got into our incredibly PPP located cabin the rain had well and truly set in. With the nut looming over us (as it does the whole town), the ocean at our door step and we settled down to fill in the time until dinner. Just on sunset the rain stopped and as we headed out the most incredible display of sunset on one side creating a perfect rainbow over the nut on the other showed us just how amazing the nature of the world can be.


Dinner at the full pub (we squeezed in) was fabulous and a stroll back to our cabin sees everyone exhausted and ready for the next day’s journey south into the wild west.