Tired of scenery, Lea was keen to look around Geelong and perhaps find a Sunday Market. With heavy traffic on the outskirts we pulled off to Barwon Heads for our lunch, enjoying wide views of the coast from the Bluff. Sheltered estuary waters and long beaches all busy on this hot day. Plus the flies were out in force! On our way to Point Lonsdale we passed a very quiet caravan park in a lovely setting. We weren’t planning on staying out on this beautiful Bellarine Peninsula but the temptation was too great after looking out on the Port Phillip Bay where the sheltered waters of this huge bay meet the surging swells of Bass Strait with its infamous rip. The Royal Caravan Park turned out to be Shire run and only opened for the season the day before. Jan & Bluey were the warmest and friendliest caretakers we have ever come cross. In the off seasons they take to the roads less travelled around Australia.
That night, we walked the promenade along the foreshore thinking the flies had retired. No such thing, they rode shotgun on our backs and rose in swarms around our faces if we disturbed them. Walking back, our eyes were drawn to the sight of our first Christmas tree for this festive season – a massive Norfolk pine glowing colourfully midway down the sweep of Phillips Bay that we had to walk the opposite direction too, for a closer look. We could easily have lingered longer in this Park but we needed to get closer to Melbourne in readiness for our planned day ferry crossing on the Tuesday. We had a most enjoyable loiter around Geelong’s waterfront awaiting Saxon’s call with our booking. By mid afternoon we realised we’d been caught out by the time differences and we decided to check out our night stop in Little River. A roadside reserve we’d been recommended to stay in as it made for a stress free entry early next morning to the Ferry Terminal.
Finding a ‘no camping’ sign at the entrance to the reserve had us wondering where to next… when Saxon phoned with the news that there was no room on the ferry for a 14m long rig (like ours) for the next 5 days! The soonest crossing was 8th December and even then, we’d have to go overnight instead of by day! John Lennon said “life is what happens when you are busy making other plans” – during our ponderings and feeling a little thrown, we were “rescued” by a most amiable, cherubic-like little Italian man who suddenly appeared at Lea’s window to ask if we were OK and whether we’d like some water since he lived just across the road! “Stay! Stay, it’s alright”. We did!
Looking at options we decided to reduce fuel costs by moving to Bacchus Marsh and base up in a little caravan park and catch up on our Christmas mail.
That afternoon we popped into the town hoping to find an internet café and discovered “The Avenue of Honour” a superb example of overarching elm trees. Market gardens backed onto the avenue and tucked into spots along the way were produce stalls. Seventh heaven for Lea, as we picked our own golf-ball sized strawberries and bought, bought, bought the cheap produce! That evening as we read our ferry booking confirmation, our hearts sank at the information regarding NO fruit or vegetables. Strawberry jam, homemade lemonade, potato salad, tomato puree and stewed apples became the cooking schedule…. How could we have forgotten a State border crossing in our delight to have FRESH?
During our days in The Grampians, Lea had been disappointed not to exit on the East side as she’d been keen to visit Ballarat, simply for the reason that when we’d lived in Perth, our Napier Street Party ‘rotating dinner’ had led us to a house with three little girls. During the meal, the story was told of the youngest, ‘Bella, when sitting quietly as her father spoke about his trip to Ballarat, suddenly chirped up most indignantly “Bella not a rat! During our recent bout of socialising at “koala camp” a discussion on The Labour Party win arose which led to “True Blue – Terry” telling us about the Eureka Flag and the Rebellion that had taken place in Ballarat. Strange how the unexpected can come to pass! While highlighting our route map, George realised that Ballarat was just up the freeway from Bacchus Marsh. We skid-daddled up to Ballarat for the day, keen to follow the history of the Eureka Stockade and the origins of the blue and white Flag of the Southern Cross. A cause won, for the battle lost by gold miners taking exception to the Government’s insistence to impose unfair mining licences in 1854. Giving rise to the Spirit of Australia - namely “a fair go for all”!
Stirring stuff… from the tale of a Pikeman’s dog howling in grief at his dead master’s side to acknowledging the unalienable right of every citizen to have a voice in making the laws he is called on to obey.
Our picnic lunch in the Botanical Gardens led us to the Australian ex Prisoners of War Memorial. Black Granite etched with the names of 35,000 people incarcerated over the years beginning with the Boer War… To George’s delight he spotted 4 people with the name Begg and yet another buried in the Old Cemetery.
With everything up to date we caught the train into Melbourne on our penultimate day in Bacchus Marsh. A stress free way to do this big city with its tolls, trams and left hooks! Victoria Market, Federation Square and the Yarra may have been on Lea’s mind BUT George wanted to be sure to find a cinema showing “Into the Wild”… Federation Square helped in that respect so it was ticked off and, we got in some window shopping as we walked the blocks to the cinema. We missed the most suitable time by 20 minutes and with disappointment written across George’s face we bought tickets to the next viewing… marking time with a bite to eat and browsing books! Fortunately “Into the Wild” was more than worth it. It was Jon Krakauer’s story of Chris McCandless alias Alexander Supertramp that inspired us to take our leap of faith and become “rubber tramps”. A book that marked us deeply followed by a film that didn’t let us down had us hopping on trams back to the station happily!
We were allowed to sit out our ferry day in the caravan park beyond the set departure time. Well before the hour to leave approached, nervous restlessness set in and off we went encountering an easy trip to the terminal, thanks to all the instructions we’d been given because there certainly aren’t many ferry signs. Hey! Hey! Sax had booked us Ocean View recliners - looking out the back of the boat on three sides. Very similar to being on an aeroplane, yet infinitely better! Personal electronic key cards to the lounge with toilets; friendly folk surrounding us; a smooth crossing with a little churning as we crossed the Rip; we even pointed out our Pt Lonsdale Christmas tree to everyone. Lea has always hankered for a recliner, particularly in Getaway. Not any more! The angle of the leg rest affected her circulation and with cold feet and constant leg cramps she felt the worse for wear by morning! The Early hour of a Sunday morning had us rolling out the bowels of the ferry, through Devonport to Naranwtapu National Park in record time and champing for our breakfast. Downed in double quick time Lea fell into bed and slept deeply. George followed later for a power nap before we could face the day. We took a 3 hour walk through thickly wooded dunes brisling with wildlife. The distinctive warning thump of wallabies and scuttling pademelons on hearing our footfalls, so close to where they were resting in the undergrowth, made us feel as if we were walking a hairline on a dog’s back with fleas jumping in all directions… an unusual occurrence for us, capped - as we climbed up to Archer’s Knob, by the discovery of a large echidna, semi-concealed beneath a dry tuft of grass, busy scratching away.
The first of many Tasmanian echidnas we were to find
From the top we looked out onto a magnificent view of the coastline and the plains at Springlawn where wombats are reputed to abound. We’ve never seen a wombat in the wild despite every effort. In leaving Tasmania in January 2003 George spotted a book “The secret life of wombats” and promptly bought it for Colleen because of the similarities of the underground lifestyles of wombats and honey badgers. The author James Woodford had raved about the number of wombats to be found in Naranwtapu so here we were…
A downpour followed our walk and we felt dismay as chilly drizzle set in upsetting our plans to look for wombats come evening time. Later, George braved the weather to check for any signs of their presence and came running back with a beam from ear to ear to say there were “walking black mounds” all over the place. Out we dashed and sure enough across the plains, bathed in soft evening light as the sun re-emerged were WOMBATS.
Female wombat and youngster grazing
We followed a track for closer scrutiny. Watching all the wombat activity through binoculars until a mother and her youngster came waddling ever closer to us as they busily cropped away at the fine turf. Unaware of us until they got downwind and moved off. George cut across in the direction they were headed and soon was lying on his stomach capturing close ups on camera. What a fulfilling day of wildlife encounters. Next day we wombled the beaches! Remember the TV kids series “The Wombles of Wimbledon Downs”? Well, when we womble we collect litter!
On leaving the National Park we kept East taking a short cut via a dirt road that wound its way through steep forest country to Yorktown and then along the ridge of the Tamar Valley to Beaconsfield. The world beamed its light on this little mining town in 2006 when a rock fall occurred underground taking the life of Larry Knight and two other blokes - Todd Russell and Brant Webb were entombed for two weeks before being miraculously rescued. We spent a pleasurable couple of hours in the Grubb Shaft Museum overlooking the ‘famous’ headgear and shaft where Russell and Webb surfaced after their ordeal. Dipping down to the Tamar River for our lunch alongside the Batman Bridge we found quite a few tents and caravans set up and happily set ourselves up there for the night too. A conflict has been raging over the potential impact of a proposed pulp mill in this beautiful Tamar Valley and as we travelled upriver to Launceston the next day we spotted many anti pulp mills signs daubed across various structures.
Knowing we’d be in Launceston again in weeks to come we simply passed through and ran parallel to the Great Western Tiers making for Lake Parangana. We just had to stop en route at the Honey Factory in Chudleigh to sample their wonderful and varied selection of honeys. We finally agreed on raspberry flavoured honey for our ice cream and chilli honey for baked camembert. The drive through fertile farmlands was very reminiscent of the Natal Midlands and as we neared Lake Parangana set within a steep-sided valley we marvelled at the sight of all the tree ferns in the understorey of the forested slopes. A peaceful night followed beside this loch like man made dam on the Mersey, before we retraced our road back to Deloraine stopping for a walk to the Alum Cliffs to survey a wondrous view over the Mersey River canyons.
Deloraine had a pretty municipal caravan park beside a river ideally situated close to shops and internet enabling us to see to all our needs while the laundry dried. That night a mighty rumble had George rising from our bed in consternation at this strange noise! Late that night a very l-o-n-g log train rumbled past within a couple of metres of our heads - An extra loud clash on the rails almost had George fall out of bed in fright and “blue air” followed…. Fortunately this was the only one to head down the line.
It was a slow climb up through the Western Tiers Mountain Range onto the Central Plateau with its Great Lakes, bleak moor lands and smatterings of snow gums.
We’d arranged to meet up at the Pumphouse Bay campground on the edge of Arthur’s Lake in Central Tasmania with Lea’s cousin Alison Howman who would travel up from Hobart for the weekend. Alison works for Hydro Tasmania and she is responsible for overseeing the environmental management of these lakes. All of which were at an exceptionally low level due to at least 5 years of subnormal rainfall. A stimulating weekend of “taking shop” followed for George as she took us to see one of her problem lakes, “The Lagoon of Islands”. It had been so grossly interfered with in the past that its waters were on the verge of turning toxic.
Alison beside Lagoon of Islands
Did fiddling with the water affect them both? That evening after Alison had returned home George took to his bed feeling dreadful. No better by morning, Lea insisted he rest up dreading sickness over Christmas and we stayed put. Unknown to us Alison had also suffered and required a visit to the doctor! The following day - Tuesday we wended our way southwards towards Hobart’s airport and found the nearest caravan park, close to Seven Mile Beach, to await the arrival of Lea’s sister Alice (Leecy) from Kilcare in New South Wales, early the next day. We last saw Leecy at Saxon and Paul’s wedding thus the TALK flowed incessantly on meeting that we decided to negotiate another day in the caravan park and keep talking...
The three of us set off for the Tasman Peninsula with a walk down to show Leecy the naturally formed Tessellated Pavement on the coastline and stopping at the Dog Line. A statue of a vicious looking hound straining at his chain marks the line of 18 ferocious dogs that once extended across the narrow isthmus at Eaglehawk Neck to prevent convicts escaping from the Peninsula. We stood awhile here, aghast as we reflected on plaque before us “These out of the way pretenders to dogship were actually rationed and borne in the governments books rejoiced in such soubriquets as Caesar, Pompey, Ajax, Achilles, Ugly Mug, Jowler, Tear’um and Muzzle’um… There were the black, the white, the brindle, the grey and the grisly, the rough and the smooth, the crop-eared and lop-eared, the guant and the grim. Every four-footed black fanged individual among them would have taken first prize in his own class for ugliness and ferocity at any show!”
Arriving in Lime Bay for the night you can imagine our consternation when a neighbouring camper came over to warn us about the deadly Tiger snake that had taken up residence at the toilet block! Leecy and I often spotted it basking between the two ramps up to the toilets on our nervous visits. Continuing our loop of the Peninsula next day we briefly stopped at Port Arthur but as George and I had previously visited this beautiful historic place (in spite of the shocking massacre a lone gunman went on a good decade ago that most people immediately think of now!) it was decided that Leecy should visit it with Saxon & Paul when they arrived after Christmas. We moved on to the Tasman National Park at Fortesque Bay for the afternoon, plunging down steep gradients on a gravel road which gave rise to concerns on the condition of Skiv’s brakes after all the ups and downs of Tasmania’s terrain. Nothing alerted us to the fact that this Park wasn’t suitable for caravans and we battled to find a turning circle. Late that evening we made our way to Alison and Amanda’s home, south of Hobart. Their 3.5 acre property on the Tinderbox Peninsula adjoins the Peter Murrill Nature Reserve. Their house looks out onto native bush lands on one side and the distant Snug Tiers on the other with close proximity to the sea. For two weeks we had a prime view from Getaway and we could observe the resident paddymelons and potaroos foraging. To be confronted by a high Johannesburg style security fence and find it electrified may have seemed daunting! This dog line supposedly protects the wild life from the two huskies Keanu and Cinnamon. Never mind that diagnosed cancer patient Keanu very recently accomplished two Houdini escapes in which she molested a goat and slaughtered four chickens. On both occasions this put her on death row at the Dog Pound!
Family togetherness over the Festive Season made for a special end to the year especially with the arrival of Saxon, Paul and our highly mobile grand-daughter Talia on Boxing Day. As a gang, we enjoyed many of the tourist spots of Hobart from the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race; renowned Salamanca Market; ascending Mt Wellington for 360’ spectacular views and spending time at The TASTE - a week long showcase of the best of Tasmanian food and wine.
.jpg)
Recovering after The Taste (from left - Leecy, Talia, Paul, Alison, Saxon, Lea)
Alison had a list of outstanding chores, as long as her arm to see to before she departed on her holiday to South Africa. Delightedly, George leapt to the fore between them, all were accomplished and more, even a jig-saw board was made and Alison threw down the challenge for all to complete a complicated 1500 piece puzzle! Songwriter Neil Murray was a highlight of a musical evening at a local winery for some. We all took a ferry to Bruny Island to revisit “The Hothouse” a wonderfully eclectic tomato tunnel turned into a restaurant with superb views out over the narrow neck between North and South Bruny. Although it has since changed hands and lost its somewhat arty ambiance it is still a very special place and we had a blissful day in the sunshine with copious amounts of wine and good food. A nature walk and a visit to a rookery shared by Little penguins and mutton birds (short tailed sheerwaters) – all out at sea at the time, added to the pleasure of our day. And, while seeing in the New Year around our BBQ fire Keanu, the escape artist, curtailed our celebrations at 2.30 a.m. when we discovered her absence! A frenzied search ensued until a muddy grey shape guiltily slunk in the open gate trying to avoid detection… So ended 2007!
