Long Way Round

So, Friday morning. My last full day in Tasmania (my flight leaves early Saturday morning). What to do?

Really, all I had left was to head back to Launceston. But there were a couple of options as to how I might achieve this. The first was, to hoof it up the Lake highway and try to get to Cradle Mountain so I might have a chance of seeing it in brighter weather. But the weather didn't look all that bright at the moment - and how annoying would it be to go all that way and then still miss out?

Option 2 was to do Option 1, but instead of heading for Cradle, to go see some of the things I had missed around that way i.e. the caves at Mole Creek. But that was a bit off the beaten track, and would require a bit of driving - and the day was starting to get away from me.

Try Option 3. Option 3 was to head south, almost for Hobart, but stop off at Mount Field National Park (which was included in my National Parks pass) and do the short circuits out to Lady Barron Falls, Russell Falls, and the Tall Trees walk. From there either take the Lake Highway back up to Launceston, and see the lovely view of the Great Lakes, or take the A5 through Poatina and up to Lonnie that way. It would be a bit of a Long Way Round, but could be quite nice.

And that's exactly what I did. I drove for a few hours in the direction opposite to that which I needed to go, in order to see the exceptionally tall trees (and trust me, they were magnificent) in Mount Field National park, and the lovely waterfalls - Russell and Lady Baron. And then I endeavoured to head back via the Lake Highway, but unfortunately large chunks of that road is unsealed, gravel road - quite steep in places, and quite rough, according to the locals. With the recent rain, and ice, I thought that probably wasn't the smartest option. Not to mention the fact that the hire company null and void your insurance if you go off road on gravel and then damage the undercarriage of the car. Not a good idea.

So I headed back via the A5, which to be honest, was some of the most dull scenery I'd encountered in Tasmania. A little disappointing. But I guess, after having seen so much beauty on this trip, that was ok.

Got back to Lonnie in time to wash the car at a local BP (the first proper car wash I'd encountered for quite some time), pick up something for tea (not Chicken stirfry pasta again!), head to the Arthouse Backpackers and sort myself out. A quite pleasant evening.

The next morning it was up bright and early to return the car and head off to the airport (the car rental bloke dropped me off there) for my flight back to the Bris. A quite successful trip, if I do say so myself!

An Evening At Lake St Clair

When I left off I was staying in the most expensive (yet most rip off) of bunkhouses in Lake St Clair. I had decided I really didn't want stirfry chicken pasta again for tea and thought I would go to the restaurant at the main hotel for dinner - but when I turned up, it was all closed. I don't know how the patrons at the hotel got on!

I hopped in the car and headed back into Derwent Bridge looking for a restaurant, or a shop, or something which might enable me to buy some different food - but alas, there literally wasn't anything there! Even the pub which had the cheaper accommodation (which I probably should have gone for in the first place) didn't have anything of a food nature open at that time (and to be honest, didn't look like it was open at all - there weren't any cars there or anything) - so I headed back to the campground and set out to cook up my meal in the bunkhouse kitchen. It was a cold evening but at least the kitchen had a woodfire store in the middle, which was quite warming.

As I began to prepare my meal there was a knock at the window, and looking up in surprise, I saw the reception chick there. She wanted to know if I could open the kitchen for a couple with a child who were staying in a campervan but who wanted access to the kitchen. Their key (for the showers) did not have a kitchen key on it. I agreed, and suggested wedging the door slightly ajar with a wooden door wedge I found there.

I then headed off to the shower, hoping that by delaying my chicken stir fry pasta it might hopefully taste better. Alas, once I got to the shower (having paid my exorbitant room fee) I discovered that it, too, was a paid shower - and this time it required $1 coins, not 20c pieces. And hardly stayed on for very long (nor was it terribly warm). Halfway through my shower the amenties block lights turned off - so I was in the dark, standing there with lukewarm water running down my body - and not a chance of running to the door to turn the lights back on. I finished off my shower in the dark.

After this, I headed up to the kitchen to prepare my meal. The other family were in there preparing theirs (using up all the clean pots and pans too). I tried to potter about making my meal with the implements I could find - but these people were not used to shared kitchen etiquette, and had filled the kitchen sink to the brim with burning hot water - and started to use it for their washing up - but as there was only 1 basin I couldn't even clean some of the pans to then use them. Eventually they realised my dilemma and agreed I could use their washing up water.

Actually it turned out to be a very pleasant evening, as we both sat down to our various meals and had a really lovely chat. They were a lovely couple, having quit their jobs in Perth and sold their house, they were travelling around Australia en route to their new life in Noosa. They had many amazing stories about places they'd seen and I really enjoyed talking with them. Their young daughter, Chelsea, was a bit of a character too and it was nice to enjoy the family atmosphere after almost 2 weeks on my own.

All too soon though it was time for bed, so I bid them farewell with the hopes that we might see each other in the morning at breakfast. This did actually happen, but as they needed to get on the road, and I needed to get cracking, it wasn't really a long time that we spent together the next morning. But I had really enjoyed their company.

Wonder how it has all panned out for them, their new life in Noosa?

What A Difference A Day Makes!

I know that I have written a post with this title before, but literally, there was no other appropriate title compared to the fiasco of yesterday. I was feeling so very depressed yesterday, with my 'luck of the Irish' - to be honest, my Irish luck has been giving me quite cause for grief and whilst I have been enjoying my journey, I can't honestly say that I have loved every minute. I realised today that I have never actually travelled for so long on my own - surprising, I know, bearing in mind all the trips I have done - but the majority of them have been with others, it was really only a handful on my own, and certainly never longer than 6-7 days. Now don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed travelling on my own - but when you are doing a 13 day driving holiday by yourself, where you must make all the decisions with regards to what to do, where to go, how to get there - and then do all the driving, navigating, photographing and 'enjoying' yourself - well that is a pretty tall order! Couple that with the fact that for the majority of the time I have been out of phone / internet range, and in hostels by myself (with the exception of Launceston and Hobart I have had the entire dorm to myself and there has been very few other people in the hostels with me), it has been quite lonely at times. But I think I have done quite well.

Anyway, back to the difference a day makes. On Wednesday I was really feeling very low. Having had a terrible night's sleep at Cradle Mountain (remember the killer possum?), and then with the weather being so poor when driving to Strahan, so that I missed all the beauty that the Murchison Highway has to offer, the final straw literally was the non-event of the Gordon River cruise. I would have to say that Wednesday was, without doubt, the worst day of my trip.

So it was wonderful to see, when I woke up on Thursday morning, that the sun was shining, there was no dreaded mist or fog, and the weather was actually pleasantly warm. And, for the first time, seeing as I have literally done all the things I desperately wanted to do on this trip (well, those I could do out of the things that were actually running or able to happen regardless of inclement weather), I had the opportunity of just driving and seeing where I ended up at the end of the day. No time pressures today. No need to beat the sunset. Or so I thought...

I set off after meandering about Strahan for a bit, enjoying the quaint, fisherman atmosphere of this lovely little village. After this I leisurely made my way towards Queenstown via the lovely Lyell Highway - sun shining, birds singing - and spectacular views! I even found time, which I hadn't really until now, to stop off for a quick cuppa in Queenstown. Like, actually get out of the car and have a cuppa without the worry of 'quick, got to get driving again'...!

The girl in the hostel in Hobart had said that Queenstown was really a waste of time, but I didn't find that at all. In fact, I would have to say that I thought the buildings were just as quaint as Richmond - ok, they didn't have that lovely sandstone or Georgian look, but there was a real heritage feel to this little town, and I enjoyed wandering about there very much. But all to soon it was time to hop back in the car and press on towards the goal...

The views climbing the mountain out of Queenstown were easily some of the best I have seen on this whole trip - and that's saying something. Whether or not it was the fact that the sun was shining, I don't know - but the views were literally spectacular, and this continued for the whole of the journey towards Lake St Clair.

I decided, with the disappointment of yesterday in being unable to cruise the Gordon river, that I would most definitely today make sure that I would go to the Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park. At one of the national parks I've visited I picked up a little book called "60 Great Short Walks" and I was really pleased to see that there was one in there that would take me exactly where I wanted to go. In fact I was really pleased to see that there were several walks that I would be able to do today along the Lyell Highway.

So off I set, aiming hopefully to hit Lake St Clair by evening at the very least - or if things went really well, to be back in Lonnie with a whole day up my sleeve. I kept stopping off to take photos, the view was just so magnificent along the Lyell Highway. My first major walk (all of 20 minutes, granted!) was to Nelson Falls, along the Lyell Highway.

The first thing that strikes you about this walk is, having entered the 'Franklin - Gordon Wild Rivers National Park', which of course requires that you have a park permit (either for yourself if you are carless, or for your vehicle), is that despite the signs telling you the cost, there simply wasn't anywhere to actually buy a pass. At all. Hm. So I did the next best thing, not wanting to be caught by the rangers - I displayed all my previous Park passes on the dashboard with a note saying that if the ranger would provide me with a location where I could buy the pass, I would. Doubt it would stand up in court, but hey, what else could I do?

This was a pretty little walk, but unfortunately it was spoiled by one small, yet significant thing. Why is it that people, when experiencing the wonders of nature, feel the need to add their own little aroma to the proceedings by... smoking! If you were to pop off, well, that's one thing - but spoiling the atmosphere for all those who unfortunately happen to be walking behind you by puffing on that vile little cancer stick, well. Its a travesty. It spoiled the whole experience.

After Nelson Falls, I hopped back in the car and stumbled across walk number 2 - Donaghey's Hill. Apparently this one was to be a 40 minute walk. I achieved it in significantly less time. Another pretty little walk, this one afforded quite spectacular views of the Franklin river valley. Very impressive.

Back to the car, and a little further on I came across the "Franklin River Nature Trail" walk. Now this one was one I definitely wanted to do. And again, I was pleased I did. It was so very beautiful - yet terribly cold and damp - not that it was raining, but the air was very cold and wet. In looking around you, all you could see (other than trees) was like a green carpet. The moss was everywhere! But again, it was very beautiful.

I would have to say I think I enjoyed this walk most of all. All too soon though, it was over and I was back in the car. Stopped off at a few lookouts (again, such spectacular scenery!) and by about 2.30 I had made it to Lake St Clair.

What a lovely day's drive I had had! With such beautiful weather, it certainly made a huge difference to my spirits! Until, of course, I went in search of accommodation...

I couldn't, for the life of me, find the piece of paper with the contact details of backpackers in Derwent Bridge / Lake St Clair - but I thought I remembered reading that the caravan park at Lake St Clair had some sort of backpacker accommodation, so I went in and asked.

The woman there was as dull as a wet week, and as thick as a pile of bricks. And yet she still managed to take me for a ride. I guess it really proves the point that to be prepared is to be armed.

When I approached about backpacker accommodation, she hummed, harred, and said she didn't think she had anything. Really? Everywhere else I've been has been vacant - including Cradle Mountain!

The reason she thought she had nothing was that the manager was on holiday, the cleaners hadn't been in for 2 weeks, and she didn't think any dorm room was made up - but if I liked, I could stay in the double room for a reduced price. And as I wasn't sure of anywhere else in the vicinity, and as I really wanted to do some of the Lake St Clair walks before it got dark - including watching sunset over the lake - I took it. And was promptly ripped off.

Because the room in question was little more than a bed in a box. For $40. My most expensive room of the trip. She didn't even have proper sheets for me - she rustled up "free of charge" (it would want to be, love!) a single doonah - but even with the poxy little heater in the room running all night, I was still cold. But no matter - it was a roof over my head.

I took the deal, dumped the sheets in the room and high tailed it to the Lake to do some walks. They were really pretty too - especially as there were parts of the track that hadn't seen any sunlight for days obviously and they were still covered with frost. The birds were singing too, and it was all very beautiful.

But again, time was running away if I wanted to see the sunset. I had asked the ranger at the visitor centre where would be the best place to view the sunset - and he had recommended the boat ramp. What he had forgotten to mention was that we're in the wrong position to really get a good sunset anyway.

No matter. It had been a lovely day - such a complete contrast from the day before! Thank goodness...!

Stranded In Strahan

Having spent a terrible night at the Discovery Parks, Cradle Mountain, when my alarm finally went off this morning I really was not prepared to face the day. When I saw the weather, I was less inclined. It was pinging it down with rain.

I got up though, had my breakfast and made my way back to the visitor centre. The mist though was very heavy and it was still raining a bit. After talking to the woman there I decided that it really wasn’t worth it to pay another $16.50 to go down to Dove Lake, spend 2 hours walking in the rain, and then have to hoof it over to Strahan, so I decided to just make my way west.

The weather was absolutely diabolical the whole way, and I really didn’t get to see anything at all. It was terrible. I was apparently driving on one of the most beautiful roads in Tasmania, and I couldn’t appreciate it because I could barely see a few feet in front of my face on account of the fog. Terrible.

So as a result I didn’t really deviate much from the plan, only stopping off to have a little look at Mackintosh Dam, which really wasn’t anything. I then decided it was more important to get to Strahan, on the off chance that there might be an afternoon cruise running or something. So I was quite pleased when I arrived around 12noon.

But then I discovered that the cruises which go up the Gordon river and to Sarah Island leave each day at 8.30am and return at 2.45pm – and that’s basically it. So no chance of a cruise today, unless I wanted to spend an exorbitant amount of money on one to Bonnet island to see the penguins or something. I found out that there were only 2 companies offering cruises of the Gordon river, and one of those (World Heritage Cruises) was running its last one of the season today – and was currently out on the water – so that company was a write off. I went to the other one, Gordon River Cruises, where the woman there informed me that they were still running cruises, but unfortunately they had a computer chip malfunction and it was doubtful it would be fixed by tomorrow! Hm. Not the outcome I was looking for.

The seaplanes aren’t running. The helicopters aren’t running. There’s no chance of any cruise. What does one actually do then in Strahan?

Fortunately I discovered that the jetboat was running. It’s a bit of a tour, (if one can actually have a “tour” on a jetboat, amidst the spins and tail flare outs that jetboats are wont to do), up the King River. Ok, its not the Gordon, but its better than nothing – and it is my only option if I want to do anything in Strahan. So I booked it – but as it didn’t start til 3.00pm, I had to entertain myself until then (some 2 ½ hrs!). But no cafes or restaurants are open; and there’s precious little to do other than a bit of a walk about the town. So off I went, wandering about the town, and then I made my way out to the People’s Park, where there was a nice little walk out to Hogarth Falls. These falls were quite pretty.

By the time I got back into town some of the shops and cafes had started to open up, so I had a very yummy seafood chowder in a sourdough bread bowl for lunch, and then moseyed on back to the Gordon River cruise woman to see if there had been any further developments. There had – she informed me that they definitely were NOT running tomorrow. Crap. So I went and paid for the jetboat, and then made my way to the dock.

The jetboat “tour” actually was fantastic, I really enjoyed myself and got to see quite a lot, considering. The Macquarie harbour is, if I remember correctly, the largest in Australia and it is really very pretty. The King river is quite interesting if only for the fact that nothing lives in it – this is because of the railway which was built between Queenstown and Strahan, which goes alongside the banks of the river. Apparently copper seeps into the river somehow from this railway (which was used to transport a lot of the copper from the mines and so on) and as a result, nothing lives in the river. They’re trying to clean it up but it will take some time.

We went up as far as the Teepookana Bridge which is part of the old railway line between Strahan and Queenstown. En route we happened across the steam train travelling back to Strahan – it was an impressive sight. We came across Huon pines that were 800 years old, and saw some very beautiful scenery – but it was such a shame that, despite having seriously ‘rugged up’, it was still so very cold on the back of that jetboat!

When we got back I decided to thaw out by journeying over to Ocean Beach, a beautiful stretch of beach a few kilometres from Strahan. I could have stayed there for sunset but I decided to try my luck once more with the Gordon River cruise people. You never know, there might have been a change… but alas there wasn’t. So I went back to the World Heritage Cruise company to see if by some miracle they had decided to run one more day in light of the fact that no other cruise was running. Alas, no, there had been no change – but the woman there suggested that I go back to GRC and ask if they were taking their small boat, Sophia, out. She said it seats 12 and that they might be tempted to send it out if there were no other cruises operating.

So back I went. Literally the woman rolled her eyes when I walked through the door again. She was actually quite rude. Anyway, I asked about the Sophia, and then she informs me that it is running 2 cruises tomorrow, one at 8.30 but only to Hell’s Gates, and the other at 11.30 out to Sarah Island. So neither cruise is taking in the Gordon river, but no matter, I was interested. So I enquired about the price, and she was extremely vague. She said, at first, that it all depended on how many people were going – on the first they already had 7, and on the second they had 4. But she didn’t volunteer a price, and I had to keep digging. You could tell she was getting more fed up with me, but I didn’t care – if the price was reasonable I would do it. So she got her colleague involved in the discussion, who said that I would have to split the boat hire cost with the others on the cruise, and that it was about $550. Fine, $550 split between 5 of us would work out at slightly cheaper than the original cruise price. Let’s do it!

Unfortunately that wasn’t the case at all. No, it wasn’t a case of splitting the tour price between all the people on the trip – no, it was a case of splitting the tour price between all the ‘parties’ of the trip – so I would have to pay $275! How illogical is that? Wouldn’t you think you would just split it between all the people, rather than their group?

Suffice to say for $275 I was not going to get a cruise that only took in half of what I wanted anyway. So I left – but then I got a bit miffed. That woman knew how desperate I was to do a cruise, and never once suggested to me the option of the Sophia. Now I know I didn’t take it after all, but how dare she assume just because I’m on my own and I look a bit scruffy (I was in hiking kit after all) that she shouldn’t even give me the option? How rude!

So meanwhile, the sun has now set, and I have no real reason to be in Strahan any longer – but its too late to go anywhere else. I’ll have to try and sort out some accommodation…

Cradle Mountain and The Attack Of The Killer Possum

Trust me, this is a true story…

Today I spent a glorious day at Cradle Mountain doing lots of the walks. I had left Devonport very early so as to give myself the most amount of time at Cradle – for which I was very pleased. I got to the Visitor Information Centre about 1030 am and then after buying my National Parks pass ($16.50) I got the free shuttle bus to the Dove Lake Car Park. Unfortunately the weather was inclement, but that didn’t dampen my spirits – I had a great time, doing a range of the walks. I sort of started off doing the Dove Lake walk, but then saw the signs for Marions lookout and headed up that way. That took me past Lake Lila and Wombat pool where I met a couple walking in the opposite direction. By this point the weather was literally pinging it down, and you could barely see a few feet in front of your face, but it was just magical. They suggested a walk down to Crater Lake, which I did, and which I was pleased about. There was a cute little hut there and I sat down and had my muesli bars and coffee there looking out over the lake. At this point it had stopped raining so it was quite pretty. I then made my way down towards Crater Lake falls, which were also very pretty, and then around towards Walheim – where I encountered the same couple again. After this I made my way back to Dove lake, and literally just popped up over a slight incline and boom! You could actually see the mountain! How spectacular! Although I didn’t get to see it in full view like you do on the postcards (it was still quite misty) it was so beautiful. I then made my way back to Dove Lake and did a bit of the walk around there before getting the shuttle bus back to the Visitor Centre.

With reports that the weather might actually clear tomorrow, I had decided early on that I would spend the night at Cradle so as to have the option of further walks the next day. So I checked in to the cheapest (and so far most expensive accommodation of my trip) bed I could find – at the Discovery Parks caravan camping ground, where they also have bunkhouse beds for $32 per person per night.

Because when grocery shopping the other day I had forgotten to get (a) soy sauce or (b) noodles, I was faced with the prospect of yet another evening of chicken pesto pasta, instead of the stir fry I had hoped to prepare, having all the other ingredients. Now I don’t know about you, but after 7 or so consecutive days (pretty much) of this dish, I really needed a change. But with no means to purchase the missing ingredients – we are in the middle of a national park with no Woolies next door – I was facing down the barrel of pasta yet again.

But then I remembered that just up the road at the Waldheim Spa Resort they had a tavern serving evening meals. And a lovely, warm, fireplace – just the thing on a rainy night like tonight. And people… So let’s weigh up the options – chicken pesto pasta, cold room to eat in, rainy evening, and solitary confinement, or – a choice of menu, a lovely, warm, fireplace, maybe a tv, conversation going on all around you (maybe I could get in on a chat too?)… yep, it was a no-brainer – I went down to Waldheim.

And had a simply smashing meal – lovely lamb stew with sourdough bread – gorgeous fireplace – and I would’ve had the Christmas pudding with brandy custard but for the fact that it cost $9.00 and also there were people waiting for tables, it was so crowded, and I didn’t want to be hogging one any more than I really needed. So I hopped up with the idea of maybe ordering this dish and finish my coffee at one of the upturned kegs they had placed as like a bar table, when suddenly this couple came over, sat by the fire and then started chatting with me. We had a lovely chat, turns out I don’t remember what he does – but I remember his name was Giovanni – and I don’t remember her name, but I remember she teaches Art 2 days a week at a primary school and is a top equestrian trainer the rest of the time. But we talked about the walks they’d done today, ones he’s done in the past, bureaucracy and stuff within teaching, the weather… you name it, we chatted on it. I spent a few pleasant 30 minutes or so with them. Then their meals arrived so I said farewell, and seeing as it was still too crowded and there weren’t any more seats by the fire, I decided to head back to the bunkhouse. It was now 8pm after all and so with a spot of blogging, in no time it would be bed time.

When I got back to the bunkhouse I decided that, as I had missed out on the Christmas pudding, I would crack open some of the Ashgrove cheese I had bought the other day. Because the kitchen was a little cold, I thought I would bring it back to my room – there’s no one else there after all – and have it whilst typing up more blog entries. I have a pretty good heater in my room anyway so it would be all nice and snug by now.

As I left the kitchen, suddenly out the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a huge, black blur running past – then felt a big bump on my leg, followed by clawing. What the?

It was the most gigantic possum (or maybe a quoll – I don’t really know) that I have ever seen. To be honest, I think it was too big to be a possum – if indeed it was a possum then he had obviously mutated into something enormous. He was quite heavy and quite strong too – I tried to flick him off my leg and he wouldn’t go – it took a very forceful kicking action to actually get him off – and immediately he pounced back. I was shrieking, flicking my leg and desperately trying to get the key in the door – but what to do once I got the door open? I didn’t want him coming in my room.

With one last superhuman effort, I flung my leg wildly out into space and he was launched a couple of feet away just as the key turned in the lock. Lickety split I was in that door and had it fully shut just as he fully sprung for me again – thud!

Can I just tell you, I was terribly shaken. Here is this giant possum thing scratching at my door for my Ashgrove cheese! I pulled back the curtain to have a better look at the window and he jumped over at me! Scary stuff – attack of the mutant possum!

So I turned off all the lights, lay low there in the dark, silent, watching, waiting, listening for him to leave. When I thought the coast was clear I tried the window again – with the light off – only to see him staring back in at me, perched on the handrail!

I can’t actually leave my room! If I need to go to the toilet, or do my teeth, I won’t be able to – he’s still out there, waiting – at one point he went further down the verandah, away from my room, and when I opened the door he literally flew back at me!

What to do? I’m prisoned in this dorm by a killer possum, desperately hunting a bit of cheese… I’ll have to wait it out to morning – but alas, I am starting to feel the after effects of that second cup of coffee…!

In Search Of Stanley's Nut

So I awoke Monday morning in the backpackers at Devonport after the luxury of a small sleep in. Knowing that I had booked 2 nights at this backpackers, I was aware that today did not have to be a mad dash in order to try to see everything, unlike other days have been.

The backpackers I’m in, Molly Malones, is about the only backpackers at the moment open in Devonport. To be honest, whilst I have enjoyed travelling in Tasmania in the winter, it has been a bit of a drag to try and do this on a budget, as many of the backpackers have closed for the season. Nonetheless, I’ve still managed somewhat. Anyway, Molly Malones is a backpackers above the Irish bar, Molly Malones. To be fair, its been probably the best backpackers I’ve been in this whole trip. Whilst the carpet is a bit psychedelic, the rooms are quite spacious, and even have their own vanity. Plus, despite the comments online about the hostel being cold, I’ve found that (ok, you had to hire your own doona) the rooms had a little portable heater in it which did the job quite well. The only downer has been the fact that I am the only female staying here, and there are about 5 or 6 boys here too – and their version of cleanliness, especially when it comes to the kitchen, is at the very least, questionable. So I’ve needed to wash the dishes before I actually use them.

Anyway, I digress. The good thing about Molly Malones is that I have been able to wash my clothes here – without having to pay for laundry detergent, too! And the dryer actually worked as well!

But back to the story at hand. Having determined that it would be best to stay 2 nights in Devonport – so I could see the North West but then be within striking distance the next day of Cradle Mountain – I set out at a reasonable hour en route to firstly Ulverstone. There is an interesting town clock there. After this, I went along the scenic old Bass Highway to Penguin, where the bins are shaped like penguins and there’s a 3m penguin statue on the beach. It was all very cute – and the scenery magnificent! I couldn’t believe that here you could have farms and beach residing together in complete harmony – and then there’s also a railway line right by the highway too! It really was very pretty.

After Penguin I popped in to Burnie, where unfortunately the lovely café with a view was closed, as recently has the paper mill which made Burnie so famous. Also I saw there though the milk processing plant for Cadbury’s chocolates – complete with sign saying they have no sales of chocolates there!

After Burnie I did a quick (since when is anything quick in Tasmania?) detour out to Fernglade. Apparently at this riverside walk they have a lot of platypus sightings – unfortunately today though, I devoted an hour of my time to this, and didn’t get rewarding with any platypus visuals. But the scenery was pleasant enough.

Alas, as has been the flavour of this trip, the time was fast getting away from me, and I was still quite a way from my goal – specifically, Stanley, and the rock there called “The Nut”. So it was back on the highway en route to Stanley – with a quick (hehehe) detour to Wynyard. At Wynyard I did a side trip out to the lighthouse and went past some of the tulip farms – but didn’t stop, as really, in winter, what is the point?

But after this there was no more dilly-dallying – Stanely was the goal, specifically the Nut, and there would be no more deviation. I arrived there about 1.30pm which gave me good time to climb the nut. The unfortunate thing was , I wasn’t really equipped for the steepness of the climb. I was wearing jeans, and not my hiking pants. Not a good look when climbing a mountain! I could have taken the chairlift but hey, you know me , I like the challenge. So I thought I’d climb up it, and get the chairlift back down. Once I got to the top, hyperventilating all the way, the views were magnificent. Its surprisingly big, the Nut – took about an hour to walk all around it, with views out to the Bass strait and along the cliffs. Spectacular. Also astonishing was the fact that there were little gullys and valleys within the Nut – lined with rather tall trees – quite beautiful.

When I returned to the start of the circuit I was quite ready to take the chair lift down, only I had forgotten my purse, having left it in the car – or so I thought. In reality I had it but didn’t know this at the time. Also, I couldn’t see anyone at the start of the chairlift and I didn’t want to get to the bottom and have to pay a fine or something – so I walked back down. It wasn’t so bad – except for the fact it was so terribly steep!

With there still being some daylight hours, I decided to put them to good use, by heading out to Highfield Point for a better view of the Nut. I did a bit of a drive around here, and then decided to head back – but detoured out to Mawbanna to go to the Blue Hills Honey farm. There I met a very lovely, very informative farmers wife who explained all the different honeys to me in great detail, and gave me a tasting of each. They were yummy! She also suggested a drive out to Dip Falls and the Big Tree, where there is a tree that is about 400 years old. It was all very interesting, but by now it was starting to get quite dark by this point, and unfortunately I still had quite a way to go to get back to Devonport.

Some 2 hours later I was back, and began to cook my tea when one of the boys started to talk to me. Turns out he was a backpacker from Germany who had been travelling around Australia for 8 months. He was a sweet young boy. We had quite a nice chat.

Again, it had been a lovely day, but boy I was bushed! I literally fell into bed, exhausted…

The Magic Backpack

There is a phenomenon, when travelling for any length of time, that enables you to continually re-wear items of clothing without the need for laundering them. This phenomenon is known as the ‘magic backpack’.

Essentially how it works is this – you wear a piece of clothing, put it back in the ‘magic backpack’, and voila! A few days later you take it out and it is ready to be worn again – clean!

Of course I’m being sarcastic, although I do know many backpackers work on this theory – that of relative cleanliness – and I myself have been trying to do the same thing for the past few days, but I have literally got to the point where there is no more denying it, the clothes have to get washed. I just can’t recycle them anymore.

Luckily at the backpackers at Devonport they have a washing machine – but unluckily, I need to wash everything – which means what do I wear whilst waiting for it all to wash? So there I was, sitting in front of the TV in the common room in my pyjamas – no mean feat considering that all the other clients at this hostel are male – and with my waterproof as a dressing gown. What a sight I must’ve been!

Can I just say though, there is nothing quite like the smell of freshly laundered clothes when you have been forced to recycle them for several days? I tell you, it’s the simple things that give the most pleasure…!

An Open Letter To Ashgrove Cheese Farm

Dear Ashgrove Cheese Farm, As an avid cheese fan, I was looking forward to my upcoming visit to you. My heart would race, and my palms would sweat at the mere mention of your name. Not because I am a fan of your wasabi cheese (although I seriously am, it is purely divine – but I can buy that at Woolworths Nundah), not because my brother in law requested that I pick up for him some “cloth matured cheddar” – no, that’s not the reason I am a fan. I’m a fan because you are the only stockist of my all-time most favoured cheese, the cheese I dream about, the cheese I simply can not buy in Australia – Wensleydale. This is without doubt the greatest cheese on the planet.

So picture the scenario. Me, a lowly Brisbane gal, have travelled thousands of kilometres just to get to your door, to taste that wonderful Wensleydale. Last year my sister brought me some back from your farm, so when I knew that I would be visiting you, my mouth was literally salivating. How much Wensleydale will I bring back? As much as I could carry? Of course! And to make that all happen, I diligently packed my little Wensleydale coolbag and little Wensleydale freezer blocks which I had purchased many years ago at the epicentre of the cheese universe, the Wensleydale Creamery in Hawes, Yorkshire. I was so terribly excited at the prospect of finally having another taste.

So excited, in fact, that I rushed through all the great Tasmanian sights as I raced up the Heritage Highway from Hobart all in one day to get to your doors on my quest for this hallowed cheese. Arriving with 30 minutes to go before closing time, I was worried I wouldn’t have enough time to make my selection.

I shouldn’t have bothered. I shouldn’t even have gone to your farm. Why? Because as I fervently scanned your shelves, desperate for that glimpse of the prize, an impending sense of doom came upon me. I couldn’t see my cheese…

Heart and pulse racing, palms sweating, I nervously approached your sales woman to enquire as to the location of the holy grail. At which point she informed me that you NO LONGER MAKE WENSLEYDALE CHEESE!!! ARE YOU MAD???!!! How can that be? What level of bureaucratic fool made that decision?

So now, as I have no other real reason to expound your delights, I shall instead delight in telling all not to bother with your little farm, until such time as reason and sanity return to the management, and you resume your production of Wensleydale cheese.

Oh what a sad, sad, day it is. And no, your "cheerful" painted cows in the front yard did very little to lift my spirits.

I remain, a terribly disappointed and heartbroken ex-customer,

Yours sincerely,

kmuki

On The Heritage Highway

On Sunday I finally left Hobart bound for Devonport. I decided to travel via the so-called ‘Heritage Highway’ because that would enable me to continue my current convict theme, and visit places of early Australia heritage – places such as Richmond, Ross, Oatlands, Campbell Town. All these locations can be found along the one stretch of road between Hobart and Launceston.

Knowing as I do that distances are deceptively large in Tasmania, I set off very early on Sunday morning, and arrived in Richmond at around 8.30am. This was no mean feat for me, I can assure you – it is holidays after all! But the problem in arriving so early is that nothing is open, so its really hard to get a feel for a place when there is no action at all. I decided to follow one of the walks in my “100 Walks in Tasmania” book, which took me past quite a lot of heritage sights – plus gave me a lot of background information to the town. For example, did you know that the district was first explored in 1803 and by 1815 settlers had arrived? Hm? Did you?

Or that it houses the oldest bridge in Australia, built in 1823 of sandstone by convict labour? Hm? All jokes aside, I found it to be a very charming town, thoroughly enjoying my walk – especially out to old St John’s Catholic church – if you have a wander through the graveyard there you see some very interesting gravestones. But I would have to say that the thing I enjoyed most about this town was the lolly shop in the old Richmond Arms hotel. You see, as kids Dad would promise us, if we did this chore, or that job, he would take us down the road to the milk bar and we could have as many malted milks as we could drink. Of course we could never ever finish even one, but we never remembered that – our little eyes would light up as we planned what flavour we’d have first, then next – and you’d better watch out, Dad, you’ll be up for a lot of malted milks! So it was with great delight that I discovered this little shop sold traditional malted milkshakes – I simply had to have one! It was just wonderful, and for just a few minutes, there in that special little town with so much heritage, I had my own little trip down memory lane. Priceless.

After that though it was on to Oatlands. En route I took the backroads, deviating off the so called “Heritage Highway”, and was treated to a magnificent array of gorgeous farmhouses and farmlands, set against a backdrop of lovely rolling hills. A little of piece of England right here in Tasmania.

Oatlands is renowned for being the town with the largest collection of Georgian sandstone buildings in one village. It was simply gorgeous. I did a quick little walk around there too, out past the old gaol (of which all that remains is the gaolers’ residence) and then around the bend to the famous Callington Mill. I met an old wino sitting outside the BWS, clearly off his face at 11 in the morning, who proceeded to tell me all about the mill, in heavily slurred speech. Hmm.

But the most pretty thing about this town was all the topiaries. They depict scenes of everyday life in Oatlands – so you get sculptured bushes representing farming, shearing – things like that. Very pretty.

Further on down the road and it was the turn of Ross to shine. My favourite part of Ross was the bridge – it, too, having been built by convicts – but they had created some interesting little carvings on the side of the bridge. I had a quick wander about that town too.

After this I then encountered Campbelltown, famous for its ‘red bridge’ – also built by convicts, and also, like the other bridges beforehand, still in use today. Them convicts, they knew how to build stuff to last, eh?

My next stop after Campbelltown was Evandale. Being a Sunday, the Evandale markets were in full swing – actually they were starting to wrap up when I got there but I still got a bit of a taste of it. Nothing on Salamanca though! The thing I really liked about Evandale was again how English it was. Narrow little streets, several churches, several pubs – all you need in a town, right? It was very quaint-looking.

Alas I was starting to get a bit of a panic on, as the afternoon was slipping away and I was still quite a way from Devonport. The thing that was starting to worry me was that I had planned today to visit the Ashgrove Cheese farm en route to Devonport – but I wasn’t sure what time they closed. How disappointing would it be to come all this way and find they were shut? What could be more disappointing than that?

Well to find out what was more disappointing than that, read the next post! Meanwhile I felt then the need to console myself with a visit to Anvers House of Chocolate, where I drowned my cheesy woes in a cup of Aztec Chili Hot Chocolate, complete with decadent gateau. Yum!

Finally I arrived in Devonport. What a long day driving! I can’t believe I left at like 8.00am and with all the stops, finally arrived about 6.00pm! I was absolutely shattered...

You Know You're Staying In A Backpackers When...

1. You need a key to go to the toilet at night – to get into the toilets! 2. You enter your room and it smells like dead dog (from the other guests backpacks!) 3. You need to make up your own bed before you can sleep in it 4. Your clothes smell of B.O. and it’s not your own 5. You are awakened ridiculously early in the morning by a bunch of Japanese faffing about rustling plastic bags 6. You are sleeping in a room with a heap of strangers and none of them speak English 7. You take a shower and the handle falls off the tap 8. You don’t get any sleep because there’s always someone with a terrible snore 9. You’re awakened in the wee small hours of the morning by a bunch of drunken hoodlums returning to the dorm – to discover the most unco-ordinated of them is sleeping in the bunk above you 10. You go to the kitchen to cook your dinner and can’t find any clean plates or utensils because the hostel is full of mostly boys who clearly don’t know how to clean up after themselves, unfortunately are not eye candy at all (alas) and who have very a dubious sense of hygiene! Yes people, I have experienced each and every one of these things on this trip!