Bay of Fires

We had been on the road for the best part of two weeks… so it was with some weariness and cynicism that we continued our drive up the east coast to St Helens and the Bay of Fires, believing we has seen so many fantastic areas - how could this continue?

We drove via the St.Marys track up and down some steep narrow gorges, including Mt Elephant Pass. As usual, the driver thought it was fantastic. The passengers were less impressed. St. Marys sits at the top of the range and has an unusual sense of isolation. Like all of Tasmania, it is very clean, small, picturesque and tidy.

The name Bay of Fires was given to the area by Captain Tobias Furneaux, in 1773, when he noticed numerous fires along the coast. This led him to believe that the country was densely populated. Abundant evidence of this occupation by Aboriginal people can be seen along the coast today. The long sweep of deserted beaches with dazzling white sand makes the area attractive for tourists. We remained intrigued with the red moss on the rocky outcrops that adds another vivid colour to the landscape… reason enough to call the coastline the Bay of Fires (because of the firey red moss).

Driving into St.Helens we noted the large number of ‘tinny’ fishing boats carrying two fishermen each standing in the boat with lines cast from short rods. Johnny is an expert in all things fishy … but even he was at a loss to explain the unusual fishing style by so many anglers. We made enquiries in the town and learned that a fishing club was holding an inter-city competition and the stand-up style was the most efficient way to catch the type of fish running in the estuary at that time.

We called in at the Information Centre and listed a few cottages/motels that could accommodate us. We found a suitable place, dropped our belongings before heading out for a closer look at the Bay of Fires. We drove to Binalong Bay where the rocks and formations were similar to that found at Bicheno. It’s a great way to pass time walking along cliff face tracks seeing one beautiful inlet after another. The wind was cold and strong… the sunlight was sparkling on the ocean. Johnny climbed down one of the cliffs and was intrigued by noises that sounded like a seal located on a rock around the ledge. He went off to investigate and we lost sight of him. And after rising tensions and ten minutes of calling, he re-emerged unaware of the stress being felt by the rest of us.
I’m not sure if it would add to scenic beauty, but each of those headlands would be ideal sights for energy windmills.

Next we drove up the coast to The Gardens… the end of the road in the Bay of Fires. There is a four-day walk further up the coast that emerges at the next road access. There is no fresh water on the walk so you need to be somewhat keen. One of the friends in our Tuesday walking group did this walk… went for a swim… was dumped on his shoulder and had to phone an Air Ambulance for evacuation to Hobart Hospital. This proved quite an expensive holiday for him. Worst of all, his golf handicap deteriorated  and has never recovered.  

After a relaxing day, we retreated to St. Helens for the night. On the way we watched an abalone fishing boat at work. There appeared to be two divers under the surface and one man on board. The skill and energy applied to collect the abalone was remarkable. The man on-board had to keep his boat circling in the correct position at the same time as he gave signals to his divers as well as pull up and the empty the nets. 

The next day we drove back to Launceston. We were keen to see Columba Falls and the Pub-in-a-Paddock. We kept our coffee urges in check until we reached the Pub-in-a-Paddock only to find the place shut! We continued to Columba Falls were we did our daily exercise up and down a steep track to the base of the falls. 

Columba is one of the tallest waterfalls in Tasmania and is the prettiest. Driving back to the Pub, we saw another echidna and saved its life by pointing it away from the road (that carried one vehicle every hour). The Pub was open so we pulled in. We looked at their alcoholic pig where the pub encourages visitors to delay recovery treatment by buying it more beer. Apparently, the father of the family originally owning the farm died and the children were hopeless farmers who spent all their time in Pubs. The mother analysed her options and decided her best future lay in converting the farm into a Pub… hence the Pub-in-a-Paddock. There are some great historic photos from the 1880s when the Pub first opened. Unfortunately, the Pub still does not have espresso coffee… so we went to a cheese farm/factory up the road.

A stopover at Derby proved worthwhile. The granite intrusions that had occurred in Tasmania’s turbulent geological history were eroded and left alluvial deposits of Cassiterite (SnO2) that is refined into tin… a very precious metal in the early days of the industrial revolution. Early settlers found signs of Cassiterite that geologists later confirmed to be in large deposits. In 1874-75, the gold rush in Bendigo (Victoria) was coming to an end and thousands of prospectors flocked to Derby to try their luck on this new site. Large quantities of water are needed to mine tin and the locals constructed an elaborate viaduct to carry water from adjoining valleys. The world tin market went into recession and finally the individual prospectors sold to the Briseis Tin Mining Company. After the recession, the company decided to build a larger dam upstream from Derby to allow expansion of mining operations. The dam was built and everyone was making money. Then in 1929, there were torrential rains upstream from Derby. The dam burst and washed some of the township away resulting in about 8 deaths. There is a first-class museum at Derby depicting this dramatic history.   

One last curiosity encountered on our way to Launceston occurred at Ledgerwood.  This is a very small farming community who like so many, sacrificed its young men to fight in World War I. The village planted a row of trees to commemorate the sacrifice made by the brave fellows. They grew, matured and with the onset of old age represented a risky liability to people from falling branches and perhaps even outright uprooting. Rather than pull out the trees and re-plant another commemorative grove, the community decided to hire a chain-saw sculpturist who carved branches of the tree into scenes from the war depicting each one of the young men who perished in the encounter. This decision has put Ledgerwood on the tourist map. What great imagination, empathy and foresight.

The last day was taken up with visiting the City Park to see the Japanese macaques, the Design Centre and the terrific Queen Victoria Museum and Art gallery. This has some great hands-on activities, [designed for kids but we tried them out] and huge machinery in the now disused railway buildings. Before we arrived at the airport we had time to visit Wolmers Estate [already mentioned] and refresh our memories of Evandale.

We left Tasmania most satisfied with our two-weeks of touring.  

Wineglass Bay and Bicheno

The East Coast

The next morning we set out for Wineglass Bay. The Freycinet National Park is simply stunning. Freycinet peninsular was visited by Abel Tasman in 1642 and named by Baudin in 1802 so this area features in the earliest chapters of European development. Prior to European contact the Oyster Bay Aboriginal tribe had occupied the area and lived off the abundant shell fish. There are massive middens along Richardsons Beach.  Many of the middens were burned to make lime used in the construction of houses in the Swansea area. Sealers were early occupants who quickly decimated the wildlife then left.

We arrived at Coles Bay at lunchtime… just in time to see the finish of the Coles Bay Classic triathlon event. We organised our lunch (picnic at the summit) and then headed for the car park at the start of the Wineglass Bay walk. The walk was quite crowded (being a Sunday) which made our ascent slower. We noticed that the four of us walk at generally the same speed which made the politics of walking so much simpler. The unspoken rules included… no-one is permitted to overtake the leader. At each stop there is a change of leader. At each stop, the group needs to provide adequate recovery time for the slowest walker. Generally, the men lead on the uphill sections and the ladies lead on the downhill run. All nice and simple! Clear expectations, lots of structure with appropriate rewards and penalties… Governor Arthur would have approved.

The views from the summit were picture postcard perfect. The water was a deep blue, the trees were a deep green/grey and the rocks sparkled in the sunshine. We  had to wait our turn for our portrait photos at the prime summit spot. We were expecting the crowded conditions to continue on the downward trail descending into Wineglass Bay. However, we discovered that 90% of the walkers retraced their steps back down to Coles Beach… which left us to walk onward at our own chosen speed. At the beach at Wineglass Bay we were greeted by a tame wallaby (who survives eating the tip-bits scrounged from tourists). This was a thrill for Joan and Johnny who hold a northern-hemisphere reverence for our wildlife. We continued our 11 km walk across to Hazards Beach via Hazards Lagoon. On the beach we met a father and son who had kayaked around to Cooks Beach where they had camped overnight. Their return trip was being assisted by a 20 kph wind that pushed them along at 5 kph, virtually removing the need to paddle. The last of our hike from Hazards Beach back to the car park tested our durability without providing as much scenic pleasure.

At the car park we met another wildlife member who had adapted to the opportunities at hand. This time it was a wombat that was willing to trade photo opportunities for pieces of carrot or other vegetables carried by the tourists. Again Joan and Johnny paid much respect to the local celebrity… and we all got good pictures. By the time we reached our car we were exhausted.

Bicheno

We drove into Bicheno seeing it as a one-horse town where even the tumble-weed crossing the road looked lonely. We had not had any coffee for some time… which would have biased our assessment somewhat. But as the amount of time spent in the town grew, the more we understood Bicheno’s particular charm.

The next day we had no planned agenda. We walked to the beach and at random, decided to walk northward towards Diamond Island.  Each day was no different… the cleanliness of the environment always took us by surprise. The beach was magnificent. We passed some petrels feasting on a dead penguin. We watched the crystal clear surf forming perfect parabolas of waves gently lapping the beach. The isthmus adjoining Diamond Island to the mainland is open only at low tide and we had timed our walk well. We crossed to the island and walked through the area of penguin colony [keeping to the path!]. There was evidence of activity at each of the burrows indicating a healthy number of birds living on the island. Dogs and cats must be wary of the tides isolating them on the island, because there was no sign of feral attacks.

We then walked back to the mainland and investigated the coastline south to Bicheno. The rocks had moss growing on them giving an intense red colour… adding to the beauty of the area. There remains some great real-estate on offer in Bicheno… prime positions… uninterrupted views. We interrupted our walk to savour our daily cup of caffeine.

After coffee, we made our way around to The Gulch where a fishing boat was unloading its crayfish and giant crabs. The catch looked extensive. However, the fishermen said they had collected their pots after a few days… so the catch represented a small return for their efforts. (Primary producers are always doing it tough.) We were amazed at the large size of the giant crabs. They are caught in slightly deeper water and it are usually sent to the Sydney markets.

We continued to wander down the coast until we ran out of track… then switched inland and made our way to the rocky outcrop that overlooks Bicheno.

We managed to 'tick' another wildlife box when an echidna presented itself in the grounds of our cottage. Joan and Johnny were suitably impressed.

That evening we had a meal that was probably the best of our holiday. When seafood is "instant" fresh even uneducated palates can tell. This meal presented flavours rarely carried to the plate… magnificent.

Our next day started with a quick walk to another lookout over the town. We took our snaps… collected our coffees and started our drive to the Bay of Fires.

Port Arthur

The next day (Saturday) was Salamanca Market day. We mixed it with the crowd, bought our lunch and departed for Port Arthur.

One highlight of our Tasmania Adventures was Port Arthur. The site has just received World Heritage listing and has a history of an enigma wrapped in a  paradox within a mystery. You either love Sir George Arthur or you despise him.

Governor Arthur was most pleased with himself in relocating the prime penal settlement to Port Arthur… so pleased that he named the area after himself. In 1823, at the age of 39 he was appointed Governor having had previous appointments at British Honduras. His autocratic and authoritarian style is reported to have lead to his recall to London in 1837 by which time he was one of the wealthiest people in the colony. His stint in Tasmania did his career no harm for he went on to govern Upper Canada and finally became the Governor of Bombay.

It appears that right from the start, he intended to use convict labour to build the colony (and perhaps look after his friends and family in a financial way). He had the coastline around Hobart surveyed to identify the best place to combine an industrial site with a high level of security. He was delighted to find that Port Arthur was only 8-hours sailing from Hobart (could be completed in daylight) and was positioned on a peninsula with land access restricted by an isthmus only 200 meters wide. The convicts were not good swimmers and he spread rumours of vicious sharks patrolling the shallow bays around Port Arthur.

Initially he set the convicts to work building the accommodation and infrastructure needed for the settlement. In the early period, he used severe punishment as the motivator to get the jobs done. Port Arthur earned its reputation as a hell hole and that is where the reputation of Sir George as a cruel and heartless tyrant sits in history.

The guides at Port Arthur now emphasise an aspect of history not well accepted. Recent interpretations of history show Port Arthur as the major industrial site within Australia out producing Sydney Town and other smaller sites. Historians have looked at the buildings constructed at Port Arthur and now postulate that Arthur ceased to rely on violence, but adopted a code of supervision based on a belief that the evil minds of convicts could be cured by education, good health, isolation to ponder one’s misdeeds and primarily, religious instruction. A long list of pedantic rules of punishment and reward were exactly applied to continuously resort the inmates into forming groups that reflected the state of evil in their minds. The ‘good guys’ lived on the top floor of the barracks, ate well, had reasonable work-loads and had lots of time to take instruction in developing new skills. They were listed to be assigned to settlers to serve out their sentences away from the goal. The barracks had the bottom two levels for those committing minor offences. Solitary confinement in the middle level was in groups and these inmates were give less food and required to work longer hours. The bottom level of the barracks was where a more severe form of isolation and penalties were applied. These convicts were kept in separate rooms and received more severe punishments. The weight of leg-irons lessened the higher the level of the floor you were on.

But there were separate buildings for the convicts committing more severe breaches of the code. There were the white rooms (to minimise sensory stimulation) where you lost your name and were given a number. The only time you were allowed to make a noise was at Sunday’s religious instruction where hymn singing was encouraged. Convicts sat in the Church with wooden partitions keeping them from seeing the faces of the other convicts. This period of isolation was to encourage convicts the introspection needed to adjust their acceptance of God’s wishes and turn away from breaking the code.

If you failed the white room ordeal and did not seek salvation, you could be committed to the black room… total darkness until you repented or went insane. Governor Arthur constructed an Infirmary to nurse those convicts who became insane.

Did this elaborate system of punishment and rewards work? Well, Port Arthur became the centre of ship building in Australia. It exported timber all around the world. It produced most of the bricks used in the construction of Hobart. The complexity and quality of produce coming from the site would be possible only with motivated well trained workers.

If you are still unsure if Arthur is a saint or sinner, consider his treatment of juvenile offenders. He established a separate camp for juniors on Point Puer that grew in size to match the main goal. The junior offenders had good food, good shelter and no alcohol. They had instruction to enable them to develop valuable commercial skills. They were placed on settlers’ farms to continue to develop their work ethics. Port Arthur was the first instance where the treatment of juvenile offenders was designed to build their skills for a prosperous life in the community (rather than focussing on punishment). The first juvenile goal in the UK is supposed to have been fashioned on the principles developed at Port Arthur.

Beautiful Coastline      

The coast line around Port Arthur is picturesque. We were captivated by the Tessellated Pavement, the Tasman Blowhole, the Tasman Arch and the Devils Kitchen. The sea cliffs are 300 meters in height… reputed the tallest in the southern hemisphere.

Another intriguing feature was a small seaport where residents have named their homes with quaint doo-goody names like 'Doo-Litttle', 'Wee-Doo', 'Love-me-Doo' etc, etc. From nothing, this town has put itself on the tourist map at no cost and just a little imagination.

Hobart

We found our cottage in Hobart and settled ourselves in for the evening. Mt Wellington was visible from our lounge room window… sitting proudly in the sunshine. Because the mountain top is often covered for days on end, we chose to immediately drive to the summit for a look. On the way up, we passed many cyclists pumping their way up the never-ending slope. We also passed smarter ones who hire utilities to carry their bikes to the summit to enjoy the enthralling descent. The top was bathed in golden light from the setting sun perfectly captured by the light brown dolerite spikes. Great photo opportunities! We watched a stately white cruise ship wend its way through Hobart’s massive harbour (3-times the size of Sydney Harbour). From a height of 1.2 km, the town of Hobart appeared small. The vista showed the Derwent River meandering up to New Norfolk (so called because it was formed by residents from Norfolk Island the first time it was abandoned). It was hard to image that Hobart is Australia’s third most dry capital city. It is so close to the west coast that receives 2 meters of rain each year. As it turned out, we were lucky to have made the trip that evening. The peak remained clouded for the remaining of our time in Hobart.

The next day we spent fossicking around Hobart town. There are areas near Salamanca Markets that preserve the original town buildings. The first building of interest was St George's Church where Joye’s great-great grandparents were married. Both had histories of substance abuse, insubordination and petty crime. Mr Lane had the unfortunate habit of deserting his post in Her Majesty’s Corp. It is surprising that what could be referred to as the common-class were allowed to marry in such a large prestigious church. Joye talked to the presiding minister, but all the early records had been transferred to the Hobart Archives. She discovered no new information.

We visited the Hobart Museum and were surprised at the quality of the exhibits. In particular its dioramas showing indigenous peoples and their dwellings, boats and hunting skills showed lots of new and interesting details. Similarly, the wildlife displays were great. The museum has just located additional film of the Tasmania tiger originally belonging to the London Zoo… very interesting.

Our walk-around continued visiting Arthur’s Circus, the waterfront, the Shipwrights Arm (historic hotel) and other historic places.

Later in the afternoon, we visited Bellerive Cricket Ground and paid our respect to the statue honouring the great David Boone (who still holds the record for sinking the most cans of VB on the Sydney - Heathrow flight).

We had dinner at Richmond village where we closely examined the Convict Bridge and Catholic Church. Richmond is a lovely place but now overly populated by single mums and disillusioned youths looking for new answers to old questions. We met them all while dining at the local pub.


We finished our touring for the day with a short stop-over at the Hobart Botanical Gardens. Both Joye and I had clear memories of the time we spent with Joye's Mum in the hot house there on our trip some 32 years ago. She was a keen gardener and really loved Hobart's gardens, especially the begonias, fuschias and petunias cultivated in the hot house.

Next day we explored the south tip of the state. We tracked along the Huon Valley, across to Geeveston [where there were some interesting life size carvings of previous identities] and onto Hastings Cave. The road is narrow and winding, but the country refreshes the scenic appetite with each turn in the road.

Our first stop was the Tahune Airwalk in the Forest Reserve that offered a selection of tree walks and swinging bridges… all good fun as long as you are not acrophobic. Johnny showed great courage in tackling all the challenges placed in his way… even though he had to close his eyes when walking the cantilevered section of the tree walk that hung 1,000 feet above the river. The trees are truly amazing... up to 80 meters tall with next to no lower branches. The Huon River is most impressive… even so far upstream it carried a large volume of water.

  

We hurried to make the 4:00 PM guided tour of the Hastings Cave. Now caves are caves and this one had the usual array of stalactites, stalagmites, curtains, organ pipes, etc etc. The most interesting feature of the Hastings Cave is that it is carved through dolerite rock. This rock only dissolves at warm temperatures. The warmer the temperature, the faster the formations are put in place. By looking at the ‘growth rings’ in the deposits, scientists have a record of temperature changes and can more accurately date the age of the formations. In particular, the mini-ice-age of 10,000 years ago is clearly visible a very thick ring in the formations. Surprisingly, even thin short formations have been shown to have ages dating back thousands of years.

After our afternoon tea of scones and cream, we went on the platypus walk. Being late in the day, the other tourists had gone and we hoped the quiet surrounds would encourage the platypus to come out and feed. We walked around the path on tippy-toes without speaking. When we came to the bridge, there was nothing to see. We all waited being as still and as quiet as possible. Finally were saw one stirring up the mud on the creek bed seeking some food. The click of Joye’s camera alarmed the timid creature who hid in the creek bank. We waited and waited with no result until one of us decided to creep away. When that happened, another platypus came our from his/her burrow only to disappear when the people on the bridge were noticed. We tried the same trick once more. One of us walked away and another platypus come out.  We told the people at the restaurant of our success and were told we were most fortunate because platypus had not been sighted for some time.

Central Highlands and West Country

            

On 19 Feb we left Stanley to make our way to the World Heritage 1262 square kilometres National Park at Cradle Mountain. This place is special… including alpine plains, rainforests, deep blue lakes and towering peaks. In the last ice age (some 10,000 years ago) the area was covered with ice and the glacial landforms look very different from the valleys and woodlands we traversed on our drive to Cradle Mountain. The area had experienced a couple of days of heavy rain before we arrived and remained freezing and wet during our stay.

By the time we booked-in and bought our park licences, it was 3 PM. We decided the weather was improving and we should tackle a short walk that evening. We jumped on board the shuttle bus and asked advice from the driver. He said we should start out on the 6-day walk track and see how the weather and fitness held out. On the return loop through Ronny Creek, the rain had stopped (temporarily) so we followed his advice. Water was pouring out of every crevasse on the hill side… all the colour of strong tea. The bus driver had explained that the water was stained by running through ‘button’ grass… the tasselly grass that covers the alpine hills and plains.
We made easy progress for the first kilometre up to the point where the paths diverge between the 6-day track, the lowland walk around Wombat Pool and the alpine climb up to Crater Lake. The track was clear of walkers on the alpine track, so we decided on that option. We passed through a valley of Teatree bushes in magnificent white flowers. We passed little waterfalls struggling to cope with the volume of water rushing their way. This was good walking… we were just getting our second wind… when the wind and rain picked up. We were half way to the peak so we were not going to turn back. The track on which we wanted to walk turned into a small stream… we had to straddle the path to avoid the rush of water. We tightened up our jackets against the wind and pressed on. We passed Crater Lake and pushed on to Marion’s Lookout. We had expected views of Cradle Mountain but all we saw through the biting rain was mist.

Rather than retracing our steps we chose to continue walking through and pick up the bus at Dove Lake. The descent was easier going, but we had to maintain our pace to make it in time for the last bus at 6:00 PM. All this went without a hitch… no slips… no strains or injury. We made our destination on time and returned to our cabin feeling exhilarated from taking some risks but defeating the elements. That evening we cooked ourselves a pasta meal and enjoyed alcohol won in Stanley on the previous night. We had a giant possum visit our cabin looking for a free feed. He looked twice the size of the possums we are used to at home.

The next day the weather forecast did not give rise for optimism. But the sky looked brighter and we were eager to tackle the slopes once more. We caught the shuttle bus to Dove Lake with the intention of taking the face walk across the base of Cradle Mountain. We stepped off the bus and were blown away with a freezing wind. We realised that risking the walk across the face of the mountain in high winds was one risk too many. We chose the walk around the edge of Dove Lake. To keep our jackets dry and warm for as long as possible, we each put on a light plastic poncho. By wrapping the poncho around so it did not flap we were able to get better wind resistance. Even though the wind and rain was worse than on the preceding day, the poncho gave us a warmer walk. The peaks of Cradle Mountain remain mysterious and shy… hiding in its shawl of cloud. It was only after two hours of walking that it momentarily showed its face. This occurred when we were at the boat shed… the best photo opportunity on the whole walk… so we were not disappointed. We saw other walkers above us battling the more difficult middle face walk. With the persistent high winds, we were comfortable we had made the right choice in not taking the risk in descending a slippery rocky outcrop in the prevailing conditions. Just to finally convince us, we experienced a small hail storm followed by sleet.

The shelter of the bus was much appreciated. We travelled to the edge of the National Park and walked a couple of short tracks. Each followed a river that thundered down small water falls… dramatic on that day because of the large volume of water.

That night finished with a home cooked meal and cards. Jammy Johnny did not win… perhaps he was being extra polite.

We left early the next day after light sleet/snow to make our way to Strahan on the west coast. More winding roads, more trees and more water. The temperature was some 3 degrees for most of the morning, so we were content to keep driving and not investigate each stray path we crossed.

 Strahan

There is an algorithm that determines how much you like a town. Sure, it depends upon the physical beauty of the place, the people you meet and the state of the weather. One profound finding discovered by our touring party is that the duration since consuming coffee also has an important bearing on your love of a place. Plenty of caffeine means plenty of admiring glances.

I mention this because we arrived in Strahan well primed in the caffeine department that gave us a rosy picture of the tiny community. The sun was shining (and of course the wind was blowing). The dark blue water of Macquarie Harbour contrasted with the red buildings, the green bush and the yellow rock faces. We grabbed some scallop pie for lunch (along with more coffee) found our cottage and settled in for the afternoon. We had enough sunlight to take a walk to the local waterfall. With 2 meters of rain falling on the West Coast each year, there is no shortage of waterfalls. We had an early dinner in the local pub that adjoined Macquarie Harbour, went home and watched some ICC World Cup Cricket on TV.

The next day was another early start for the Gordon River Cruise. The boat was remarkably big… reflecting the large number of tourists attracted to Strahan. The excursion is well suited to the elderly (like us!) with a minimum of exercise, plenty of food and comfortable lounging chairs. We saw the usual range of interests; the salmon farms, the sea eagles perched on the trees, the Huon Pines (only the young ones – a couple of hundred years old) overhanging the water, Hells Gate (at the mouth of Macquarie Harbour) and even a seal.

The highlight of the day was the stop-over at Sarah Island where recidivist offending convicts were kept. The guide providing the island tour was fully scripted and played the role of a convict using the Irish accent of the day. It was a first class performance and fully engaged the 20 tourists in our group. Rather than emphasise the brutal treatment handed out during the first two commandants of the settlement, time was taken to show the achievement of the third commandant who established a very productive ship building business that suppled Sydney with most of its early supply of boats. The abundant supply (in those days) of Huon Pine allowed high quality ships to be built efficiently. 

The guide told us that Sarah Island was closed by Governor Arthur (Hobart) because the third commandant was not sufficiently brutal in his management of the convicts. (This view was contradicted by the guide at Port Arthur who thought the Governor was well overdue for sainthood). (More on that later.) Only seven escaped convicts from Sarah Island remain unaccounted for… quite an excellent record of security given the large numbers and the low standards of moral fibre associated with the inmates. Our Irish-speaking guide told us that several historic buildings were destroyed by subsequent generations of Strahan residents who saw Sarah Island as an embarrassment. What a shame!

On our boat-trip back to Strahan we had time to view some excellent videos on the early ‘piners’ who rowed boats hundreds of miles up and down the Gordon and Franklin rivers to cut and float Huon Pine to the local saw-mill. That generation of pioneers lead a lifestyle very different from today.

In the late afternoon we relaxed and did a bit more sight-seeing… a time to rest-up in preparation for a long day’s drive on the next day. 

On the Road to Hobart

Trees… trees… trees… water… water… water! The west coast gives you the cleanest air in the world. It’s worth the visit just to experience the basic environment. The west coast is rugged terrain reflecting its unusual geology. In the Cretaceous period, the continental breakup of Gondwana started near Tasmania. Tasmania threw its lot in with Antarctica but this did not last. Tasmania was thrown away from Antarctica on its own micro tectonic plate. It has been buffeted, tossed and turned during its lonely tumultuous geological history ever since. It has had volcanic activity that covered over one-third of the island with dolomite rock (see Mt Wellington and Hastings Caves for examples). It has been buckled and turned with pressures that created numerous deposits of valuable minerals. Just remember Mainlanders, when Tasmania claims its national rights as part of Australia, this island is really an orphan that has landed on our door quite recently. It can claim relationships with Lord Howe Island, but it is part of the Antarctica family and not part of our ‘blood line’.

We descended into Queenstown and were surprised that vegetation of the slopes around the town had not re-grown to any significant extent from when we were there 32 years ago. It still has the hard industrial edge of a mining town that gives it a peculiar charm. It was sunny and we had a cup of coffee… so we liked the place. The drive out of Queenstown on the Hobart road was an exciting experience for the driver and somewhat terrifying for the passengers. The scenery is special and you get a real sense of the geological violence that shaped the landscape.

One of the most remarkable artistic centres in Tasmania is located on the Hobart Road near the edge of the State Forest at Derwent River. Some seven-years ago, a schoolteacher from Hobart decided to dedicate his professional life to building a museum consisting of a long wall of timber onto which he would carve scenes that celebrated the lives of the early timber workers. He is a little over half-way complete and what already exists is breath-taking. Unfortunately, the artist restricts the use of photography, so look at the website http://www.thewalltasmania.com/ . He has a special technique that gives skin and cloth a real-world feel. He goes to tremendous efforts to show the details of animals and vegetation.  

Even more remarkable is the work of his son. He has developed the art of representing everyday objects (e.g. whips, coat hanging from a peg on the wall, saddle and stirrups) in a 3-dimensional carving from one block of Huon Pine. Art studios in the future will be striving to get hold of his works for exhibition. If you have unmet urges of a collecting kind, invest your money in this guy’s art. (It’s as sure a bet as collecting the paintings from my sister-in-law… Anne).

We exited the forests and had an enjoyable drive down the Derwent Valley. We saw a turn-off to Australia’s first salmon farm. Johnny helps manage a stretch of Tyne River in Northumberland UK for a land owner leasing out the riverbank to recreational fishermen. Johnny is also very involved in a local fishing club. He saw a great opportunity to get some tax deduction on the expenses of his holiday by doing research into the Australian salmon industry. We called in at Salmon Ponds near New Norfolk and found a very pretty spot. Of most enjoyment was watching Johnny run his expert eye over the set up… visit the fisherman’s hall-of-fame…and see him run his loving hands over the antique fishing rods. 

North Coast

Historic North

Our Tasmanian adventure commenced when Joan and Johnny Griffiths along with Joye and I flew into Launceston on 17 February 2011. We had planned a circuit of the Island, leaving on 3 March. Joye and I had been to Tasmania on two previous occasions, but the first trip was in the 1970’s so the land and our memories had changed a lot in the intervening years. Joan and Johnny were in Tasmania for the first time. They live in Hexham, UK (near Hadrian’s Wall), so were a long way from home. Their Australian holiday had started in Perth (WA) some two weeks previously and had clocked up 3,000 km of touring around South-West WA. They had toured with their daughter (Joanne) and niece (Jill) so were settled into the tourist lifestyle.

Our plan was to satisfy our tourist instincts by viewing the North for three days, before tackling the prime tourist sites of the Central and Western districts of Tasmania. Cradle Mountain and Strahan were allocated 5 days before spending the next 3 in Hobart and its surrounds. We would then progress via Port Arthur to the East cost up to the Wine Glass Bay region and onto the Bay of Fires before heading back to Launceston for our departure.

Our plane landed early in the day so we set a full day’s itinerary to match our enthusiasm. Within 30-minutes of our flight landing, we were in our X-Trail hire car and heading for Evandale, an historic village close by. The attractions of Tasmania were immediately noticeable… clean air, green grass… roadsides covered with buttercups and clouds of butterflies. Outside of Evandale we visited the historic Cox family home at Clarendon House. This is Australia’s only home that had its own private railway line. The house was built in 1838 and was the centre of a substantial grazing industry. (see more details at http://www.nationaltrusttas.org.au/properties-clarendon.htm)

One aspect of the visiting arrangements struck Joan as unusual. Visitors were encouraged to tour the house unsupervised. The valuable historic artefacts were displayed with no security guards or protective cases. Stately homes in the UK usually have tight security to protect their displays.

On our last day before flying back to Sydney, we visited Woolmers’ Estate at Longford, another nearby stately home. This home remained in the one family (six generations of the Archer family) and reflected the home life of the earliest settlers (the house commenced construction in 1813 and the final extension was built in 1835. The last of the Archer owners died in 1994 and left the property to the Woolmer Trust. The site is one of the best preserved in Australia. The original Thomas Archer decreed in his will that no fixtures and fittings were to leave the estate… and subsequent generations observed his wishes. It is surprising that a house of such scale could be constructed in rural Tasmania only 25 years after Governor Phillip hoisted the flag in Botany Bay. http://www.woolmers.com.au

Back to our first day of activity… we drove from Evandale to Launceston and booked into our Motel before driving up the Tamar valley to the mining town of Beaconsfield (recently remembered by the mine disaster in 2006). We experienced the changeable Tasmanian weather with a heavy thunderstorm that trapped us inside the mining museum at Beaconsfield. Displays featured the nature of the 2006 disaster and the heroic efforts of locals to rescue their colleagues. Those suffering claustrophobia would not have enjoyed seeing the tiny space the two survivors (Brant Webb (37) and Todd Russell (34)) lived in for 14 days.

On driving back to Launceston we crossed the impressively different Batman Bridge and still had enough sunlight to walk the track at the Launceston Gorge. This was a useful measure for the improvement in fitness we achieved in our 15 day holiday. We averaged some 4 km of walking each day… some over tracks that required reasonable fitness. The Launceston Gorge walk was not challenging, but we puffed and panted our way over the track. It is surprising that such a wild gorge sits in the middle of the comfortable city of Launceston. We enjoyed the city’s comforts by dining on seafood looking over the marina in glorious sunshine.

The next day we travelled to Stanley at the tip of Tasmania’s north-west corner. We made the trip via the Liffey Falls. Using our limited navigational resources, we ended up using roads made by the timber getters. We saw lots of quiet nooks and crannies as we attacked a couple of serious hills on our way to Liffey Falls. We knew Tasmania had one or two trees… but even on our second day we realised this island is more than pulling its weight in managing Australia’s carbon footprint. The walk down to Liffey falls took us past some very large trees… not the tallest in Tasmania… but claiming to be the biggest mass. We went through forests of giant ferns following the river down to the falls. The falls are not spectacular… but they are pretty. There were some good photo opportunities; enough to send us happily on our way towards Stanley.

The drive along the northern coast is picturesque… we passed through Devonport (home of prime minister Joseph Lyons)… through Penguin (where Council signs are fashioned into Penguin shapes) and Bernie (the paper mill town) and Wynyard. All around the coast the skyline was dominated by the Nut (the hill that gives Stanley its charm).

Our accommodation was at the Cable Station located 5 km out of Stanley sitting amongst fields of opium poppies and onions. Our apartment was very comfortable, even having its own (historic) telephone exchange. We had enough time to complete a walk to the top of the Nut… not a trivial feat when dealing with paths angled at 40 degrees. The wind was blowing a gale from the summit that gave the walk a sense of adventure. The sun had set by the time we decended. On the way down, we passed families of wallabies grazing between the shrubs. That evening we dined at the local pub. The local charity was having their Friday Night raffle… and in a sense of being good community citizens, we all bought tickets. Johnny has a history of winning games of chance (Jammy Johnny) and that night was no exception. He won a couple of bottles of ‘cruisers’ (alco-pops) and Joye won a bottle of wine. We ended up with an inexpensive supply of alcohol for the rest of the week.

Stanley has retained its historic town centre. Tiny wooden fishing huts line the streets giving the place charm to burn.

Over night we experienced a vigorous storm. The noise of the wind against the windows was worrying. In the morning we saw that water had been driven under the window sills and doors. We left Stanley in heavy driving rain, all wanting to return at some future date to again enjoy its special atmosphere. But we were on our way to the challenge of the National Park at Cradle Mountain… and the high altitude environment on offer.