week 1

Week 2 - Tasmania

We had intended to spend Valentine's Day on a cruise from Bruny Island but were too tired to get up in time. Even vacationers need a break every now and then. Instead we looked around Battery Park again and walked part of Hobart, making reservations for the remainder of our stay on the island.

The Wooden Boat regatta was still in progress (we learned it had attracted over 30,000 people). We had an illegal peek at some of the boats by accidentally walking through a restaurant before embarking on a cruise of the harbour. Interesting place: it is not spectacular like Sydney or Melbourne but nevertheless quite diverse with lumber awaiting shipment to China (then to be returned to Australia as furniture); one of the world's largest catamaran builders; the huge zinc processing plant; Governor's House; Botanical Gardens; aboriginal caves and a Russian icebreaker beak from the Antarctic. In the distance we could see the Cadbury's factory with its overpriced tours.

The regatta was a bit of a bust in our opinion. There were several interesting boats on the water but very few of the wooden vessels joined in. It was still a pretty sight. Notable is the fact that 1 in 4 Hobartians own a boat.

The following day saw us again making an attempt to drive around Bruny but the ferry schedule did not suit ours so we continued around the peninsula attempting to visit a sheep and cow cheese factory (don't ask!!!) but it was closed, as were two of the wineries we drove to. At this time we had not tasted Tassie wine, its price being somewhat prohibitive in the bottle shops. We did enjoy wonderful scenery, a whole community that played one-upmanship with their displays of ridiculous scarecrows and several small steam boats being launched to travel down the Huon River.

Back in Hobart we made our way to the Royal Hobart Botanical Gardens with its wonderful displays of flowers I would give my socks for. It's the second oldest such gardens in Australia and some of the walls within were built with convict labour. The only thing that marred the visit was a group of time-warped hippies who had made an encampment within the Japanese Garden where their loud children romped and illegally waded in the stream, most being rather dirty - even their bare butts - all without discipline from their parents. Too bad - we had hoped to sit within and enjoy the tranquility. Not to be.

But to make up for this we visited the sub-antarctic house with plants from Macquarie Island. Near freezing temperatures simulated the environment of the island and its multitude of plants.
We ate at the restaurant owned by the unit landlord, complimented by some Tassie wine that he threw in for us. Not bad - the second glass was better . . .

Then it was time to leave Hobart and head west along the Derwent River. This happened through several showers and resultant rainbows (some from horizon to horizon) before it cleared. Tea and scones at Hamilton in an inn, again built by convicts. Two hydro power stations later we were in the mountains.

We stopped for a detour at Derwent Bridge into Lake St Clair where we took a hike along the Platypus Trail. We spent some time in the viewing blinds but we were there at the wrong time of day to see the little duck-billed buggers.

Our destination for the night was Queenstown, a small town at the site of a once-gigantic copper mining operation. Now to get to Queenstown one must drive down a mountain. Previous travelers - Janice and Bill, Doug, Kim and especially Heather will attest to the fact that I love steep and winding roads. Not this one: I was almost scared of the drive. Very steep, extremely narrow and hairpin after hairpin. So, I've done all that before while whistling a ditty. Add to these conditions the steep (vertical?) cliff that was within centimeters of the side of the road. All that was between us and the dizzying drop was a wire fence. I assure you that I traveled most of it at 10 k/h! I actually think we were descending down one of those roads inside an open-cut mine that is used by the ore trucks. Thank bloody hell that we leave town by a different route. Hade I known that the guide books (at the time lost in the mail twixt Guelph and Maitland) had described the route as "the most dramatic piece of road in all of Australia" then I may have been prepared and been better able to enjoy it. At least I can brag about it.

At the bottom, after extracting Heather's nails from the dash, we found a nice, quiet cabin by the banks of a very brown river, still stained by the tailings of the copper mines, long since closed. We bought our water for that night.

Next morning we had an early start for our drive down to Strahan for our Heritage Eco-Tour on the McQuarie Harbour. First stop was Sara Island, pre-cursor to the convict settlement at Port Arthur. Convicts were sent here to cut and mill the Huon Pines - massive trees many hundreds of years old. These trees are very resistant to decomposure, indeed those felled many years ago, before a cutting ban was imposed, are still found floating down the Franklin and Gordon Rivers.

The Sara Island site was perfect for a penal settlement: there was plenty of work to be done and while escape was physically easy, there was little chance of surviving the rough terrain. To ensure the convicts stayed put they were told that the water and the fish that inhabited them were poisonous, and the bread produced had a mould baked into it to make the bread moldy in just a couple of days. Those who did escape often resorted to cannibalism, one escapee was discovered with an arm and a leg of his "buddy".

The original system on the island was not a success as the Irish prisoners were very hard to control. Floggings lost their severity when the victim and the forced spectators would sing ditties. During the last hanging the three condemned men sang and danced a jig with the noose around their necks. The system and the punishments changed when ship building began. This, to save the effort of floating the logs all the way to Hobarttown, required skill and competence, so the convicts were taught trades and were rewarded for work rather than being punished as before. Still, the tiny Grummet Island nearby was a place where prisoners were placed without shelter and very little food, in chains, for several days.

The Irish would create discord between the officers. In order to be rid of the nasty chaplain, men would run by her, naked, on her walks. Tassie's first streakers had the desired effect - she insisted on leaving. Another cruel officer left when the convicts set up a situation involving said officer, a goat and strangely enough, observed by the commanding officer. Details will be spared you.

Then up the Gordon River. This is a World Heritage site, and well it should be. The tranquility of the area spreads over the huge Huon pines, the second oldest species of plants on the planet. On a boardwalk tour we encountered several of these protected tress and a sapling, scarcely higher than Heather, that was a mere 60 years old!

On then to Cradle Mountain where we found accommodation and then hiked around Dove Lake, at the foot of the peaks. It was a dull and often rainy day, but this actually added to the mood of this, another heritage site.

That evening, we took a drive to look for nocturnal animals (there had been two pademelons hopping around around our cabin earlier). We caught a glimpse of a Devil as it scampered across the road, its gait unmistakable. We did not see any wombats until we arrived back at the cabin, and there was one crossing the path. Magic!

Next day saw us pass through Sheffield, the town of murals and the richest ice-cream on the planet. Then to Evandale to watch the penny-farthing races. we were there in time for the finals and were amazed at the speed that those cycles go. With no brakes, these riders had the art of making tight corners finely tuned. Then to Launceston and prepared to fly back to the "big Island".

Our stay in Tas was more than we expected. Small wonder it has become the destination in Australia. While more expensive and much busier than expected, I would go there again.

Farewell, Boags and Cascade beer, hello VB.

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Week 1- Tasmania

Despite our warnings, theses virginal flyers with Virgin Blue did get off the ground, though there were flight cancellations to Sydney, games of musical departure gates and general confusion at the VB terminal. We only waited 30 minutes on board for our turn to take off and within a few (30) minutes we were in Tasmania. The only things free on route were the forced smiles and the safety demonstration, yet the cabin crew did manage to do sweeps of the cabin urging passengers to buy coffee, tea, pop, beer (at 8:00 am??). We left the plane as we had boarded, by outside steps - not wonderful when you are pretending that your hand luggage is not grossly overweight. No luggage carousels at Launceston - the trolley simply pulls into the terminal and everyone swoops for their luggage which they had already sighted as the tractor made its sweep into position. Beats the conventional half-hour wait by a long shot.

After finding a cabin on the outskirts of the city (it's not a big city, but it is Tasmania's second oldest we took a hike along the esk River Gorge to the uppermost suspension bridge - the site of a long-closed hydro power generating station. It was very hot and we were two of the very few on the trail. How unfortunate that we had not brought our bathing suits to cool off in the pool when we returned. We wandered around the downtown area, noting a lot of kids in school uniforms. We asked and found that private schools went back in the second week of February(a week later than the rest of Oz) while the public schools do not return until Feb 15. Further research showed us that all systems are very close to the 200 days of instruction.

From Launceston we headed south to Ross, a convict town that is choked with history. There are convict-built bridges and structures (churches, town hall, homes) but the most appalling site was that of the Female Factory. This is where female convicts were interred for the duration, spinning wool, weaving, etc. They were given the opportunity to be educated, but the lessons were only after a very long day of work (they were up by 5:30 am). Their education, already sparse, was made more impossible when one of their teachers could not herself read! Often these women would be given to local land-owners for free labour. Often these women would be returned to the prison, pregnant. This incurred severe punishment to cure the women of their moral degradation!

We stopped off in Campbell Town, another convict settlement, before heading east to Coles Bay, at the entrance to Freycinet National Park, arriving in enough time to find our cabin and take a long, long walk around Oyster Bay.

Our first goal was to hike up into the Hazards to see Wineglass Bay. Even though we were early there were many there before us, including some ridiculously attired in what they thought was appropriate hiking gear. Mount Everest, definitely, but the Hazards of Tasmania??

Following that we drove north through Bichenot to the animal park where injured or orphaned animals are cared for and eventually returned to the wild if it is considered safe to do so. Heather was pursued by hungry kangaroos and wallabies, hoping for a hand-out, as many visitors buy bags of food just for that. We tagged along with one of the animal care-givers as he fed some. I saw my first wombat, small roos called paddymelons, and a Tasmanian Devil. At first appearance the Devil does look menacing but its actions and pacing as feeding time approached were almost comical. Our last treat was a close-up encounter with a very young koala that the employee had to "drag" away from its mother on whose back it had climbed.

Before leaving the area we arose early enough to see the sun rise over the Tasman Sea from the nearby lighthouse. Save some campers at the site, we were the only ones sterling enough to capture this view.

Our journey south to the capitol city was uneventful but this changed when we headed to the reception desk at the Hotel Astor. They had no record of our reservation. Add to this the fact that we were heading into Hobart's biggest holiday of the year: the Hobart Cup, the annual Wooden Boat Festival and the annual regatta. There were supposedly no room left in the entire city nor within an hour's drive. The receptionist at the Astor, bless her heart, knew otherwise. While we calmed down over a cuppa that she made for us she contacted a friend who had holiday apartments. We ended up in a three-bedroom apt. well within walking distance of Battery Park.

After settling in and doing a quick grocery shopping we headed to the top of Mount Wellington. some 1120 meters above the city. The view, though partly obscured by clouds below us, was stunning. Descending, we took time to look at the wooden boats before the fence and the ticket booths were put into place.

Our priority was to see Port Arthur, the penal colony from convict times. While it was a thrill to actually see the site we were both shocked at some of the very real stories of the treatment of convicts within this colony. It was supposed to either cure or break these despicable men (and women, and boys!). Floggings were used as a punishment, administered by the victim's best friend (if he did not apply the whip hard enough . . . guess what?). If the prisoner passed out he would be revived and washed down with salt water so the whipping could continue. Immediately after the completion of up to 100 lashes with the cat-o-nine-tails the victim would be put to work unloading boats, where he would be up to his neck in sometimes freezing salt water. This was abolished when sever convicts, mainly Irish, began to sing ditties when under the lash.

The next level of punishment was a form of solitary confinement, but all were in the same building. During the one hour outside the tiny cell, the prisoner wore a caped mask so no other could tell who it was. Talking was prohibited. If that failed, then came the dark cells - the deaf and dumb cells - where there was no noise, no light. Meals were random and infrequent. At Sunday service these prisoners stood in "coffins" so they could see no other person while the preacher called damnation down upon them. Understandably, most of these men came out completely mad, and were hustled off to the lunatic asylum, conveniently attached.
With all this, there was some humour here, and I'm presently weaving this into a story for storytelling.

We cruised around the Isle of the Dead where all prisoners were buried in unmarked graves. Then off to see Hell's Kitchen and the Tessalated Terraces, all of geological interest.

Saturday at the Salamanca Market on the Hobart waterfront was an experience we enjoyed after wandering through Arthur's Circus and the rest of historical Battery Point. Following this we took in the Royal Hobart Museum where there was a special exhibition of John Gould's bird collection. Expecting to see Audubon-like water colours, we were horrified to find that the collection of birds was . . . a collection of stuffed birds. Interesting, nevertheless.

South on Sunday to the National Forest Reserve to take a sky-walk amongst the trees at Tahune. Some 47 meters above the forest floor we looked upon trees that continued way above us. Huge stringybark gums, myrtle, sassafras and blackwood were there to be looked upon with awe. Interesting to note that the stringybark tries to burn itself. It sheds thin bark in profusion and even exudes a flammable gas so that the forest will burn and rejuvenate!

So, Tasmania is as beautiful as everyone says. A few more days in Hobatr then off to the west coast, then to Cradle Mountain and back to the "North Island".

We are well and astonished that we are actually half-way through our three months. Time flies . . .

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