Jigsaw puzzlers
Sunday 6 January had us pulling out of Howden leaving the huskies and Amanda after a two week stable lifestyle within a home and garden to return to Seven Mile Beach Caravan Park, out at the airport, in readiness to collect Leta flying in that night.
Leta and Lea trained as teachers together while years later Leecy and Leta met while teaching in Harare. As a result there was much in common to catch up, chew over and clarify… Especially Leta and John’s romantic love story that began with the daily delivery of a single red rose to Teachers College and continued after their marriage, just after graduation, for seven years and then changed to pot plants! Adding further interest they shared an amazing life together, travelling widely, rearing two sons - Tudor and Saxon along with orphaned animals of all descriptions in Africa before migrating to Australia where they lived in many different parts before, distressingly at an early age, John died in Brisbane.
Our group of four set off to see the best of the East Coast with further explorations and many pit stops that had no considerations for waistlines… The first being Kate’s Berry Farm – her deep voice and friendly manner easily talking us into having her delish homemade ice cream and many other delights that all began in a tiny rustic pole and dagga hut that steadily extended into a most pleasurable eating stop on the Tasman Highway. Not far, was Friendlies Beach, where we spent the first night tucked in behind the sand dunes with far from friendly march flies and a host of friendly pademelons that appeared out of the surrounding undergrowth to feed. Coming across wallabies just out of the reach of waves, on our evening beach walk pleased us no end. A magnificent day dawned and with camping in the Freycinet National Park normally at a premium at this time of year we were keen to secure a camp site as early as possible. We found just what we were looking for at the Rivers and Rocks campground where we left Getaway and Leta’s tent set up to stake out our bush site. With a picnic lunch packed into a rucksack we set off for The Hazards, a series of prominent granite peaks that rise at the neck of Freycinet Peninsula concealing the spectacular white sands and blue waters of Wine Glass Bay. An hours walk up and over the saddle seems far longer due in part to the slow pace created by the queues of people making the climb. Fortunately most only go as far as the look out.
Wine glass bay, Freycinet NP
We continued down into the bay for our lunch and took refuge in the shade of scraggly she-oaks edging the beach and happily watched an experienced wallaby scavenging amongst picnickers. By the time we’d climbed back out we were very ready to indulge ourselves on the magnificent decking of Freycinet Lodge overlooking Coles Bay, the whole atmosphere reminding us of Lake Malawi in parts as well as life in Kariba. That night the Butler was put through his paces preparing hot bucket baths for the bevy of perspiring ladies. He is excellent! With all the L names he thought he aught to be renamed Leonard but Leo was a better bet to match his pride of Lea, Leecy, Leta! We liked our spot so much we stayed another day to enjoy shell collecting on Coles Beach and a return bout of imbibing at the Lodge. Much as we liked our lazy, lounging around there was plenty to see up the coast. Further up we popped in at the Douglas Apsley National Park where we found a waterhole that quickly had Leta taking the plunge. Her persuasive powers soon had George and Leecy in too. Leecy had been feeling very poorly all morning until the cold water revived her. Chain of Lagoons gave us another bush camp for a night and once we’d crossed between lagoons, a long expanse of beach to walk and enjoy Tasmania’s fresh clean air. The area’s landmark Elephant Pass Pancake Barn easily tempted us to forgo our regular cereal breakfast and head up the winding pass behind our campsite to sample their wares. Well worth the drive up considering the view, the witty signage and the tasty pancakes although we never got to find out how the Pass got its name! Eureka Berry Farm came up far sooner than expected and with our vivid memory of a “Berry Spectacular” that we’d consumed years ago we could not zoom past without allowing Leecy and Leta to experience this heaven. It wasn’t to be… Eureka Farm had almost been reduced to ashes in a dreadful bush fire that swept through the region barely a year before. The owners were bravely picking up the pieces of their prize winning berry farm and we were glad to support them but as you can imagine the ambiance we recalled was just not there.
On reaching St Helens we booked into a caravan park to sort out laundry, wash hair sticky from the waterhole, replenish our water supply and make use of a good sized supermarket. Leecy also spotted a repair man to hopefully remove the South Africa shaped CD stuck in our CD player that prevented us watching our Roo Gully DVD series at night. Yay! That was sorted and we happily moved on to Cosy Corner (North) one of many bush camps alongside the intoxicating Bay of Fires. There cannot be many places in the world where wilderness scenery such as this is available for free and semi deserted. The silky white sand squeaks underfoot as you walk towards outcrops of orange lichen covered granite boulders that line the many coves within the Bay.
Sundowners on beach at Cosy Corner
In the rays of the setting sun or early morning light the rocks assume a molten glow but it wasn’t this that gave the Bay of Fires its name. Early explorers were inspired by the many campfires belonging to Aborigines seen along this coast.
The artist eyes of both Leecy & Leta were enraptured by the beauty of this place and cameras worked over time even though passing clouds dulled the evening light our first day and smoke loomed large across the Bay the second afternoon. The threat of fire out here was enough to ready ourselves for a rapid evacuation if required. Fortunately the wind direction changed and the fire swept inland. We passed through remnants of the blaze the following day on our way to St Columba Falls. On leaving the forested surrounds of the Tasman Highway our minor road led us into a gently rolling valley of greenness filled with dairy cows where we rapidly drew to a halt outside Holy Cow Café. Attached to the café the making of traditional Pyengana cloth-bound cheddar cheese still takes place by members of a family dating back to 1895. We were able to watch the curd being stirred and “hand-torn” in grandfather’s original cheese vat and, inside the café, invited to a cheese tasting session that illustrated how the ageing process altered the flavours. Outside in the sun, revelling in the strong smell of cattle wafting up from the pastures below, we enjoyed a coffee break while Lea tried out a dollop of hand-made wattle-seed ice cream.
Now for the highest Falls in Tasmania… As we arrived at the turning circle we found cars parked in a line making it a tight squeeze for Skiv & Getaway to manoeuvre around. Seconds later a car shot ahead of us turned tightly into the remaining space and parked making it impossible for us to turn - Never mind the NO PARKING signs! This forced us to stay put and in turn changed the whole parking format! We hoped that on completing the walk to St Columba Falls all the cars would have moved on. Down the steep sides of the mountain we walked through rain forest with myrtle beech, celery top pine and woolly tea tree to a bridge over the Ringarooma River before reaching the picturesque outlook at the base of the Falls with mosses and epiphytic ferns adding an enchanted appearance to the scene. Back at the top the cars had all moved on except the critical one. We waited and after a while Leecy thought she recognised a person from the car – Yes! Murphy’s Law though, it turned out they had gone swimming in the river and lost their car keys. Who can quarrel with that! We eventually managed to ease past and be on our way.
Leta was given a reprieve from her lilo bed and the dust of tent life for a night with her ex Zimbabwe friend Paddy, now living in the historic township of Derby, running a delightful Gallery & café “The Painted Door”. We made camp a couple of hundred metres down the mountain, beside tennis courts and the Ringarooma river very happily. That evening we walked along the river back to the bridge into Derby to catch “Fish Rock” on camera. We’d caught sight of it as we’d entered this old tin mining centre from the 1870’s. Afterward we stopped for a pint at the East end of town before making our way along the length of Main street having a ‘sticky-beak’ until we arrived back at our rig.
Next day cappuccino and the tastiest, home made macaroons with Paddy set us on our way, covering more ground than usual, knowing we needed to reach Hobart in good time to tie in with Leta’s flight home. As things turned out the Heritage Highway or main Midland trunk road between Launceston and Hobart was a fast moving road and rather boring. Even the camp sites we’d planned to stay in proved so hot and dreary that we pushed on. We finally ended up in a caravan park in the historic village of Ross, beside the uniquely ornamental stone bridge built by two stonemason convicts, who were granted a pardon as a result of their fine work. We happily meandered along the leafy, heritage streetscape of Ross containing galleries, boutiques and coffee shops to the ruins of the female convict factory and up the hill to the bleak, wind swept cemetery before heading back through the churchyard to camp. Ross stole our hearts.
Now we were ahead of schedule and the decision was made to head for New Norfolk caravan park and enjoy the upper reaches of the Derwent River with our extra day. Which we did, thoroughly enjoying afternoon tea in Hamilton at the Garden Tearoom of historic Glen Clyde House with its Art and Craft Gallery featuring some fine sassafras wood work. Leta’s last night and after fighting a losing battle for dinner out, she ended up cooking us a wonderful meal of Tasmanian salmon.
As we couldn’t let Leta leave without a sighting of Hobart we packed up early with two loads of newly washed, wet laundry aboard, and made for Alison and Amanda’s home where we dropped off Getaway and hung out the washing. Ominously, husky Keanu was tethered within her cage! Lunch in the delightful Bloomfield Vineyard and a couple of hours on the Hobart Waterfront ended the closing hours of Leta’s holiday with us.
We returned to Oleria Drive and learnt of “Houndini’s” two escapes by squeezing through the sheep wire and the electrified boundary fence. Knowing we were dog-sitting for the weekend made us a tad twitchy. However, Keanu and Cinnamon behaved beautifully and George reinforced the entire cage with chicken mesh. Now we hold thumbs! Leecy’s holiday with us came to an end with a flight out early Sunday morning and we were left feeling bereft of good company, consoled by the huskies.
A new week and back to two, we set off South of Hobart down the Channel Highway which surprised us with marvellous views of the many bays and inlets of the D’Entrecasteaux Channel – “a great ocean road” hugging the shoreline in many places and almost free of traffic. Spent a night on the Foreshore Reserve at Gordon with a Western Australia Joondalup dog regularly checking on us and making gentle conversation! Continuing into the far South next day, we made camp in a small open glade within tall, dense forest at Gilham’s Beach overlooking one of the many coves of Recherche Bay. “So far from any where, time can lose its grip, if you let it.” And we did… lolling in the sun, reading and writing while soaking in the beauty that surrounds us. George even set up a workshop and did some wood carving.
Seven kms. further south is Cockle Creek (population 3) lying at the end of the most southerly road in Australia. We drove there before the week was out and walked to Fisher’s Point steeped in the history of whaling, coal mining and timber in this lonely harbour at the end of the world until the source base was depleted. The area since incorporated into the South West National Park- of World Heritage status.
Fisher's Point, Tasmania
In our coffee table “Round Australia” book it says this region is “For those intrepid souls who want to go to the southern most point possible in Australia, an unsealed (and usually corrugated) road leads south from the township of Hastings to Cockle Creek” Obviously the authors didn’t venture here – perhaps the sign warning of a narrow winding road was yet another inhibitor…. Come, Australia Day long weekend, you’d have been forgiven for thinking the “drive-in” cinema had just ended, as a line of variously aged caravans, campers, utes loaded with firewood and boats rattled past us. Our glade gathered in occupants and more kept coming that George’s eyebrows leapt up and down in growing consternation. When the last squeezed in with an inch to spare from our van he was ready to have an apoplectic fit.
Gilham's beach, Recherche Bay
Australia Day week-end invasion
On the positive side we could only be glad we’d arrived first and placed Getaway at an angle facing the sea and our door opening onto the forest. This mob seemed to know each other and their chatter went on long into the night. In the early morning, boats were eased out round the different camps and relative peace returned. With the likelihood we’d struggle to find a place elsewhere, we accepted the conditions. That night we walked along to a community centre to experience an Australia Day Tassie celebration. Two old bath tubs, fitted with long legs, were the centre pieces of blazing warmth and light. A well spoken, young bloke greeted us and made us feel welcome. Cooking snags and burgers served with fried onion on a slice of white bread typical Aussie fare and a one-man-band Trev Weaver, the entertainer for the night. No one clapped – not because he wasn’t good- just seemed to be customary in these parts! The inevitable firework display took us by surprise and added its touch authenticity to the celebrations. We sat on our own, eyeing all that went on around and as the night progressed, Mark approached us and nattered. He went off, only to return again and invite us to join his group. We must have passed muster! Turned out he recognised us from “their” camp site. Oops! They have all have been coming to our very spot for close on 25 years. Such friendly characters, particularly “Sniff” who dashed around finding out about work prospects for us and Ron who offered a spot in his large yard in Dover, as a base to search for farm or factory work. Next day, after a wild goose chase of well over 60km to find a mobile phone signal (in vain) we stumbled upon a call box and phoned Saxon for her birthday. Disappointment – we could only leave a message and returned to camp where another group gave us a big fillet of “snotty” (trevally) which we fried up for a most delicious fish dinner that night. Our eyes were as big as saucers watching them remove 14 fine sized crays from a cooking pot set upon a 44 gallon drum- Yes! We counted them 2 by 2, as they kept coming out from our seats in the furthest section of the camp site. How we could have celebrated Lea’s birthday with one of those instead of poached eggs! We hadn’t come prepared for an extended period of time and had to eek out our provisions. The longest time we have spent in any one place, speaks for itself! How large the glade seemed after the Tasmanians left. We stayed on in our place of tranquillity until the month ended and we ran out of water…
