In October 1999 Tony left Packer Tanning, where he'd worked for 10 years. Being on his feet for 8 hours was getting too much for his poor old knees (a bizarre anatomical mixed metaphor, but you know what I mean). He had plans to take up driving a Yellow Cab and was booked in to do the compulsory week-long training at the end of November. He was looking forward to a good break, so we decided to snatch the opportunity to see a bit of the country. Not enough time available to do a driving tour along the Great Ocean Road (Tony's first choice), but Tourism Tasmania had a really good fly-drive package on offer: air fares, 5 nights accommodation and 7 days car rental for around $800 per person (twin share). Perfect! We booked for mid-November, and this is how it went…
(NB. Highlighted links refer to photographs: click to go to the image viewer, then choose from the pull-down menu or use the arrow buttons)
Monday 15.11.99 -- Brisbane to Launceston
Flight departed Brisbane just after midday: changed planes in Melbourne and arrived in Launceston late afternoon. Collected our Suzuki Swift rental car (a red one, so it goes faster) and checked in at the Abel Tasman Motor Inn in Kings Meadows, about 10 mins from the airport.
Tuesday 16.11.99 -- Launceston to Cradle Mountain & Sheffield
Had a wander around the Launceston CBD for a bit, then visited Cataract Gorge reserve, a spectacular recreational reserve only a few minutes from the centre of town. Headed west to Deloraine, passing through lush sheep- and dairy-farming country reminiscent of Somerset and Cornwall, as well as many fields of opium poppies grown for pharmaceutical manufacturing. Stops at historic Entally House homestead, tiny Mole Creek for lunch, and King Solomon's Cave, en route to Cradle Mountain N.P. Called in at the Visitors' Centre, where it began to snow lightly -- in November, by God! (I was thrilled to bits). Drove up to Dove Lake, for the famous view of Cradle Mountain. Turned north-east and headed for the tiny rural town of Sheffield, where we were booked for the night at "Acacia" B&B, hosted by my former colleague and friend Kaye Welman and her husband Dal. "Acacia" proved to be a lovely old timber colonial home, beautifully appointed and surrounded by well-kept gardens. A warm welcome from Kaye and Dal, who joined us for dinner at the local hotel.
back to top
Wednesday 17.11.99 -- North West Coast
Woke to a glorious morning and splendid views from the house across farmland to Mt Roland. After a very hearty cooked breakfast and warm thanks to Kaye and Dal, we set off north on B14, reaching the coast at Turners Beach and following the scenic coastal route (overlooking Bass Strait) through Ulverstone and Penguin to Burnie. In Burnie, we visited the Lactos Cheese factory for cheese-tasting and goodies for lunch; then Fernglade Reserve, just on the edge of town, where Kaye said we'd be sure to see platypus. She was certainly right, although Tony, who lacked the patience to only stand and wait, stalked off down the path and missed a wonderful view of a platypus feeding, then lying on his back in the shallows having a scratch, right at my feet. Of course, Tony had the camera with him, so he didn't even get a second-hand view. At Somerset, just west of Burnie, we checked into our motel then continued west along the coast to Wynyard, Table Cape (incredible lookout, and a tulip farm right on the headland), Rocky Cape (pink granite headland, aboriginal shelter cave) and Stanley, a lovely historic colonial town and fishing harbour. Took the chairlift up the "Nut", a peculiar flat-topped plug on the eastern side of the peninsula, for wonderful views along great curving sweeps of white beach to east and west. We decided to go the whole hog and continue on to see the sun go down over the Indian Ocean at Marrawah on the west coast. Unfortunately Green Point was in the way! A 1 1/2 hour drive back east to return to our motel by 8.45pm.
back to top
Thursday 18.11.99 -- Murchison Highway to Queenstown & West Coast
An amazing day! Straight south on the Murchison Highway (despite its name, a modest dual carriageway through forest and scrubland), with a short detour to visit Waratah, a rather sadly depopulated former tin-mining town which boasts the longest par-3 golf hole in Australia. Much less roadkill than we'd noticed on the coast road yesterday, although we did see a freshly-dead wombat and what looked like a Tasmanian devil. (Apparently the alarming roadkill rate is attributable to the narrow highways, and vegetation extending right up to the verges). Stopped at Zeehan, another sad and rather ugly town, slowly dying since the silver-lead mines closed. Empty streets and shops, and not much else except the remnants of its boom days (including the disused but intact Gaiety Theatre, once the largest in Australia), a Pioneers' Museum and a collection of steam locos and rolling stock. On to Queenstown to check in at the Silver Hills motel. The little town itself is pleasant, but the surrounding hills are stark and bare, poisoned by the smelters of the Mt Lyall copper mine. Even 30 years after the smelters shut down, only a few struggling pockets of young vegetation are evident. Continued on to Strahan on the coast, a pretty village overlooking Macquarie Harbour, where a penitentiary for hardline convicts once existed on Sarah Island. (The only way in and out was by sea through "Hell's Gate", the narrow and treacherous harbour mouth). Took an hour-long scenic flight in a 5-seater Cessna sea-plane, over the harbour and Elliot Range and across the wilderness area of the Lower Franklin and Gordon Rivers (site of the famous dam blockade). What a buzz!
back to top
Friday 19.11.99 -- Lyell Highway, Queenstown to Hobart
Visited the "Miner's Siding" mining and railways monument in Queenstown, then headed east, up out of the sick and eerie hills around Mt Lyell, through beautiful flowering alpine heath land and across Lake Burbery. Passed through the Wild Rivers Wilderness N.P. to Derwent Bridge, where we turned off to Lake St. Clair at the southern end of the Cradle Mountain/Lake St. Clair N.P. Magnificent clear lake, surrounded by snow-capped mountains. Through Tarraleah (central to several big hydro-electric stations), Ouse and the pretty colonial village of Hamilton, where we stopped for toothsome home-baked pies for lunch. Detoured north-east to Bothwell, because Tony wanted to visit the Australian Golf Museum and Australia's first golf course at Ratho homestead (where the square greens are fenced to keep the sheep off). Bothwell is a lovely sedate old town with many fine colonial homes and public buildings. Continued our route south of the main highway, through the hop orchards of Bushy Park and Plenty, then rejoined the highway to follow the lovely Derwent Valley into Glenorchy and Hobart. Hobart is a truly beautiful city, surrounded by mountains and stretched along both shores of the broad sparkling Derwent Estuary.
back to top
Saturday 20.11.99 -- Hobart to Port Arthur
Took a circuit tour of the coast road south-west from Hobart round the South Channel district, bounded by the D'Entrecasteaux Channel to the east and the Huon River to the west. Passed by the shot tower at Taroona, and through many really pretty little waterside settlements including the extraordinary Doo-Town (where all the cottages have names like "Thistle-Doo" and "Doo Me"). Lunch by the river in Huonville, then we headed east, back through central Hobart and across the Tasman Bridge, en route to Port Arthur. Crossed Pitt Water into Sorell, then went via Dunally and the Forestier Peninsula to Eaglehawk Neck and the spectacular coastal features nearby -- the Tesselated Pavement, Devil's Kitchen and the Blowhole. We arrived at the Port Arthur Motor Inn, then spent a couple of hours exploring the historic site. It's a stunning place, the restored prison settlement buildings and penitentiary ruins overlooking a beautiful harbour, set amongst very English lawns (dotted with daisies and buttercups), formal gardens and avenues of grand elms and oaks, and surrounded by native bush. There is a subdued and slightly eerie feel to the place, accentuated by reminders of the dreadful massacre of 35 people perpetrated by Martin Bryant on 29 April 1996 -- a rough wooden memorial bearing the names of the dead, and the shell of the Broad Arrow Café where most of the deaths occurred. I felt like an intruder on hallowed ground. After a fine dinner at the motel restaurant, which overlooks the sweep of the historic site and harbour, I retired for a rest while Tony braved the 9.00pm Ghost Tour.
back to top
Sunday 21.11.99 -- Tasman Peninsula and East Coast to Bicheno
After a leisurely buffet breakfast, we took a circular route around the peninsula through Nubeena, Premaydena and Taranna, returning to Port Arthur for a short harbour cruise, past the site of the former boys' prison at Point Puer and the Isle of the Dead, taking in a view south through the rock formations at the harbour mouth toward Antarctica (next stop, 2,000 nautical miles away). Backtracked to Sorell, then north to Richmond, a lovely old colonial town carefully preserved and very tourist-conscious. Highlights included Richmond Jail (opened 1825) and the famous bridge. North-east toward the east coast via Orford, Triabunna and Swansea, past the Freycinet Peninsula and into Bicheno around 4.30pm: on the way, passing vineyards, walnut orchards, poppy fields and hundreds of sheep! Roadsides lined with masses of daisies. After dinner at the Tavern in Bicheno, we joined the nightly tour of a fairy penguin rookery. An incredible experience for me, and the achievement of a long-held ambition. I felt myself becoming quite choked up as the first small bird appeared out of the waves to plod the long way home to his burrow.
back to top
Monday 22.11.99 -- Esk Valley, Midland Highway and Launceston
Woke to a grey and rainy morning. Because of the weather, we abandoned our planned visit to the Birdlife Park and drive via St Helen's, and headed west along the Esk Valley. On reaching the Midland Highway, we went south to Campbelltown and Ross, both lovely well-preserved colonial villages. Visited the famous Ross Bridge (with its bold and greedy ducks) and an "Old English" sweet shop, where Tony gleefully acquired paper bags full of pear drops and Pontefract cakes. Back north to Launceston, where we spent a few hours wandering around the city centre and seeing the sights (including a rather striking early 20th century church, the name of which escaped me). Returned out car (having notched up 2,100km) and after a short delay caught our flight home, arriving back in Brisbane just after 8.00pm.
back to top
LASTING IMPRESSIONS
EUROPEAN IMPACT: Huge tracts of the landscape have been altered through the combined effects of agriculture, the "acclimatisation" efforts of the 19th century colonialists and the more recent grandiose hydroelectric schemes. Settled rural areas have the soft manicured prettiness of the English countryside, with hedgerows of climbing roses, and lush meadows scattered with daisies and buttercups. Queenstown must be one of the world's most ghastly examples of industrial despoilation. And although Tasmania reeks of history, it's colonial history: there's very little evidence anywhere of the original inhabitants and the story of their occupation of the land.
CONTRAST: Away from the settled areas, the National Parks and world heritage wilderness present almost as another country, staggering in its diversity: snowy mountains, alpine heath, temperate rainforest, wet eucalypt and pine forests, coastal scrub and native pasture.
COASTLINE: Naturally, the variety and beauty of the coastline is an outstanding feature of the Island State.
ROADKILL: Everywhere!
WILDLIFE: Despite the above, Tasmania is a naturalist's delight, a stronghold of both endemic species and remnants of species now gone from or severely endangered on the mainland.
ONE BIG COUNTRY TOWN: It's a small state, with a small population, and mostly rural in character. Even the cities are a manageable size, and you can drive from Launceston to Hobart in just a couple of hours. We found the people we encountered to be friendly, courteous and kindly to tourists (for instance, the well-dressed elderly gentleman who saw us poring over a street map in Launceston and came over to ask if we needed any help, or the roadhouse café owner who announced he could tell we were mainlanders when we asked for scallops rather than potato cakes). And contrary to nasty mainland folklore, we didn't meet any two-headed locals (although, by gee, there're a lot of recessive genes in evidence -- I've never seen so many red-heads).
back to top