Tramping tales for December 2011

Plenty of projects have kept us busy on the property in Howden in the lead up to the festive season. The small rainwater tank was considered an eyesore at sun-downer time. George undertook to move it onto the lower terrace and create a shield with recycled planks from the old fence. Amanda felt the screen required a mural - Her wish, George’s command.

Artist in residence at work!



Rolling stones gather no moss? Lea targeted the weeds in our van ‘park’ after clearing the entire driveway to ensure all was ship-shape for Christmas.

It wasn’t all work and no play. Dinner and the film ‘The Boat that Rocked’ at John Daly’s apartment overlooking the Hobart Yacht Club began a series of cinematic pleasure. We met up with John at the State Theatre another evening to see ‘Paris at Midnight’ and we two almost had a fit on arrival to find this was a romantic comedy by Woody Allan- not our kind of film at all. However it redeemed itself with beautiful photography of Paris. We were back at the theatre the very next day to see ‘We Need to Talk About Kevin’. Having read Lionel Shriver’s best selling and confronting book we couldn’t wait to see how it had been translated onto celluloid. We found Tilda Swinton as the mother superb as were the actors playing the parts of Kevin as he grew up. It certainly helps to have read the book before seeing this film.

The interest derived from Alison’s camera traps was mentioned in passing last month while we were on Maria Island yet we didn’t mention how satisfying it is for George and Alison to set the two up around the property at night and discover what activities take place while we sleep by Australian’s mostly nocturnal creatures. As this property adjoins the Peter Merrill Nature Reserve, Alison and Amanda went to the trouble of having it registered as Land for Wildlife after their two huskies died. It is wonderful to see the Paddymelons, Potoroos, native hens and other birdlife frequent the garden or hurtle through the bush on the hillside and we’ve caught sightings of possums and bandicoots. However, the cameras have revealed so much more about their relative abundance. We found ourselves wondering why we were not seeing an up and coming young generation – no chicks with our pair of Native hens! To our dismay the cameras revealed three cats prowling our territory. Predation by cats and foxes is a major cause of decline in Australia’s fauna and owners of cats are expected to keep their pets locked up at night. Worse, Lea found the remnants of a half eaten baby bandicoot while weeding. George reckoned only a cat would have chewed the Eastern Barred Bandicoot, a threatened species, in this manner. We were all most distressed and steps were taken to try and rid the property of these feline visitors. A cage trap was borrowed and George – with his history of cat conflicts delightedly baited the trap and set the camera to record the capture. Four in the morning, we awoke to the mobile advising George of the first trespasser’s detainment. In the cold and wet George nearly fell down the steps as he carted the cage with the particularly large, frightened cat leaping around inside to the dry garage to await a more respectable hour for a Sunday. Later, Amanda and George drove the cat far afield to the SPCA only to find they weren’t prepared to take strays and directed them to the Hobart Cat Centre. Here, George and Amanda were amazed to find ‘Fat Cat’ as he became known, was no feral. This tabby had a micro-chip and was received royally by the very well run centre. Afterwards, in viewing the series of video clips leading to Fat Cat’s incarceration pop-song quotes were inspired to match the frames!

 I gotta get out of this place ... sang the Rolling Stones?

Another cat, seen nervously skulking around for months led to the A’s distributing a neighbourhood drop containing a mug-shot of the cat – no owner came forward and we felt certain it was homeless. Night two, it was captured shortly after we’d all retired to bed. George and Lea followed procedure and took ‘Fluffy’ to the Cat Centre at opening time, Monday morning. The “Trapper” was recognised and we were told that on collection the loving owners of Fat Cat had been warned to keep it in at night! Fluffy wasn’t micro-chipped and we could only hope it would be given a good home on that far side of the city.

Night three, four possums curiously inspected the cage at different times of the night. The first inadvertently tripped the door while clambering across the top of the cage and foiled ‘Fat Cat’ capture for a second time. Sporting a new collar with disc – probably a phone number, the hour of four in the morning obviously his routine hunting hour! Unwilling to set a food precedent for the possums we refrained from setting the cage trap the following night only to find the camera failed to record the noisy antics of visitors as the batteries were worn out!

13th December, Amanda and Alison presented us with tickets to Wrest Point Entertainment Centre for the show Reach out: a Journey through Motown with the Las Vegas super group Spectrum that came together in 1995 to recreate the style and sounds of Motown. The two of us enjoyed a Bistro supper in the Casino Hotel overlooking the waterways of Hobart before attending this lively show with foot-tapping memories of the 50’s and 60’s Motown music – we had a ball amongst all the other wrinklies of our era. How lucky are we to have enjoyed two live shows at this venue.

We spent a lovely afternoon meeting Ray and Carolyn Hayes nee Howman in their home close to the Tasman Bridge.

Carolyn’s brother Peter (Canberra) and their mother, Muriel (Brisbane) are the ones we have met up with over on the mainland. All are descendants of the Australian Howman Pioneers of 1860.



At our end of the table celebrating the arrival of Shell and Keith to Tasmania for the first time.


The dorsal fin of an Orca was spotted on the edge of Blackman’s Bay as we completed dinner and we dashed up to Blow Hole Lookout hoping for another sighting of the whale and made do with a photo call!


The ladies sport their Christmas hats - Shell, Lea, Amanda, Alison and Lorraine Mander, the owner of the wonderful array of hats adding class to the festivities.


Christmas at Olearia! Left: Shell, Graham Mander, Lea, Amanda, John Daly, Lorraine Mander, George, Keith and Alison.


On a Boxing Day evening walk a Rhodesian generation of Aussies gathered. Lining up – Alison, Lea, Shell, Amanda, Leecy plus George’s shadow while Keith and Chris are True Blues!

In the lead up to Christmas, George drew attention to marks being left by some animal digging shallow inclined holes on the lawn, in each case next to a dandelion plant locking the scientists amongst us in furious debate over whether the culprit was a bandicoot, a potoroo or even a rabbit! Alison, a boffin with local knowledge, favoured the idea of it being a potoroo while George, the ever sceptical ecologist, was certain it was a bandicoot as both species had been caught on camera foraging in the area. Entertaining arguments progressed over red wine and cider, steadily drawing in the family and visitors which included a Professor of Zoology, Peter Jarman. Sides were taken according to fancy, over digging and feeding behaviours with evidence placed before all drawn from camera shots and reference books. What became known as “the dandelion trials” commenced in earnest after our two scientists were sighted shaking hands on a large packet of crisps as they wagered the outcome. The camera traps were set out at different angles and locations in the newly named Potoroo Paddock. No! Bandy’s Beat... Night after night, the uprooted dandelion plants used as bait produced inconclusive results, not to mention all sorts of excuses. Was the PROOF in the eating or the digging? Eventually a Potoroo was observed on camera to masticate above the bait position! George conceded defeat. Good for ALISON!

Alison, the potoroo advocate, positioning the camera traps during the now infamous “dandelion trials”.

Our Bush Poet brother-in-law Keith Bell was inspired to relate the tale in rhyme capturing the essence of this Howden estate!

The arrival is nothing; the journey is all – even on CTV
By Keith Bell


It’s layered and tiered the understorey
Down the slope beneath the trees
Where the Stringy Barks stretch skywards
With the bracken at their knees.


The Banjo Frog, in the next door dam,
Is strumming his single note;
And a Butcherbird chorals exuberance
From deep within his throat.


When daylight wanes and night
Brings down its soft grey fading net
George and Alison go about
For their cameras must be set.


The proof they need of Potty or Bandi
Is almost there to see.
What digs and eats dandelion roots
In the weeds beneath the tree?


Another dawn and the mountains develop
Like negatives in the trough
So do Potty, Paddy. Bunny and Bandy
As images in the rough.


Which dug the holes? Which ate the roots?
Comes claim and counter-claim.
But evidence lacks and so
‘Twill be a never-ending game!

George and Alison were delighted to left in the peace to complete some of the many insatiable requests she keeps listing around the property while Amanda and Lea played tourist guide leading the cars to MONA. Tasmania’s MONA is on the world map generating tremendous interest far and wide that our planned day at the Gallery had us turn about tail at the shocking spectacle of tightly packed car parks and an unbelievable queue at the entrance. We took in other scenic attractions around Hobart before a phone call sent Chris flying back to his mother’s hospital bedside in Sydney. Despite the poor prognosis his 87 year old mother rallied and twenty four hours later he was back. Chris had crewed for the Boxing Day Sydney to Hobart Yacht race in 1997 and he missed out on the thrilling end to a 2011 finish.

All eyes on the neck and neck race between Maxies - Wild Oats and Investec Loyal as they race down the Derwent Estuary on the last leg of the Rolex Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race...

The sisters couldn’t face being so near and yet so far to such a closely run race that Alison dashed the three of us through to Battery Point just in time to witness the high excitement of Investec ‘Loyal’ approaching the finishing line with a huge zebra head emblazoned across its sail- how appropriate was that, as it beat five time winner Wild Oats by mere minutes. Two moments of unexpected consternation arose from sounds at close quarters, that of a canon boom heralding the winner and shortly after, the dregs within a bottle of sparkling wine blew its top in the close confines of the car. High on hilarity and adrenalin we passed John Daly’s apartment and stopped by for a wee toast/ quick dop!

George had discovered an oil leak on the rear axle of Skiv and booked our vehicle in to have the seals replaced in the Christmas week, during the course of which we discovered the cylinder head gasket was problematic and another two day booking had to be made to remedy this on the first working day of the New Year.

The four Howman gals – Lea, Alison, Leecy and Shell enjoy a perfect day at The TASTE Festival – Hobart’s Waterfront celebration of food and wine from around the island.


Alison snaps the three sisters down at Constitution Dock after the presentation of Line Honours to Investec Loyal - delayed as a result of a protest accusing a crew member of ‘seeking assistance’ from a helicopter, sullying the pleasure of this wonderful race while an inquiry took place.

As we prepare to celebrate the last night of the year, us Rond-lopers, as our friend Eggy Boggs calls us, close our 2011 Blog.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Tramping tales for November

In the last remaining days of Paula Baxter’s stay we visited the Museum of Old and New Art better known as MONA situated on a peninsular curving into the Derwent River. In 1948 this land was purchased by an Italian immigrant, Claudio Alcorso who planted the first vineyards of southern Tasmania before employing, a decade later, one of the country’s leading architects, Sir Roy Grounds to design two homes on his property. Thus, arriving at the entrance to MONA caught us by surprised as it’s easily mistaken for a Wine Estate. One, with lots of car parks causing a loss of bearings and had us wondering which way to go! Alcorso’s homes have become heritage protected and part of the Museum. When David Walsh purchased the property in 1995 he converted the Courtyard House into the Moorilla Museum of Antiquities and by 2005 began planning additions to better display his growing collection. On meeting with Nonda Katsalidis, a Melbourne architect, he discovered their “design sensibilities coincided” and an unusually spectacular and large building developed. This building, in itself, is more than well worth a visit although the outside is, as David rightly describes - ‘deliberately underwhelming’.

The museum approach, with beautiful views across the river, mountain and suburbs of Hobart further confused with an all weather tennis court on the doorstep however the warm welcome from staff in smart understated uniforms quickly settled our qualms as they instructed us on the use the i-pods that would keep us informed as to where we were and what we were looking at. For us non techno folk it took time adjusting to their use – Lea certainly got the most out of hers. A glass lift dropped us 17 metres underground to the third subterranean level cut into the Triassic sandstone of the river bank, giving little indication of the sheer space and size of the place let alone the many galleries that would steadily unfold over time. The sandstone rock face beautifully incorporated as a towering wall within the building and more extraordinary was the waterfall, an art work of sound bite messages created out of droplets of water. This was our favourite! All was an experience unlike any other - a modern rendition equivalent to Alice in Wonderland dropping down a rabbit hole and finding another world that drew you along corridors into hidden corners and vast structural spaces containing exhibits that ranged from the most curious to quite bizarre, thought provoking to downright confronting. Alison and Amanda not only recommended the visit they had warned we could be shocked!

Not even this whimsical exhibit within the car park prepared us for the day in store!

It was truly a museum unlike most. Purposely built around specific art pieces, it is one of the few museums in the world to have a water covered gallery floor, a waterfall, a sex and death gallery, two cocktail-bars that momentarily have you wondering if they are for real – they are! Not to mention the weird gallery with its facilities to handle effluent from an art piece! For George, other than the amazing building there was little that appealed - he just couldn’t view it as ART. Lea found it a most intriguing place and totally lost herself down there until aching feet brought her back to reality and forced her to the top where George and Paula were comfortably seated and absorbed in books, patiently awaiting the return of person three.

As the working week ended Paula caught her flight out of Hobart back to her Southport, leaving an emptiness in both SKV and her corner of Getaway for us to have to get used to again. That first weekend in November was party time - Amanda celebrated her birthday. Such perfect weather and we were all amazed to discover Hobart 32.3⁰C registered the second hottest temperature to Darwin’s 33⁰C for the country. Both at opposite ends of the continent.

Concerned about shower forecasts for the coming week and not wishing to damage the lawn we decided to turn the caravan around in readiness for a departure to New Norfolk mid week. So much for plans, it proved impossible to reverse the caravan or find a level gradient to unhitch, not even out on the street. Very  frustrated we dragged Getaway to our doctor appointments and continued onwards to New Norfolk... We took 9 days in our favourite site beside the weeping willows where Fairy wrens flit and Blackbirds twitter! Despite the many times we have been here we only discovered the Derwent Cliffs Reserve circuit on this occasion. It had always seemed natural to walk up river as the cliffs seemed impassable the other way yet concealed within a rocky passage was Jacob’s ladder testing heart, knees and lungs with gorgeous views up river highlighted by the sun before it slipped below the mountains. We soon came to look forward to our evening exercise following the Derwent River and returning along the Lachlan River.

Catching the view and a breath on the stairs up the cliffs that back onto New Norfolk Caravan Park.

If it rains in the morning a perfect evening follows and vice versa. Coats pop on and off throughout the day as fast as clouds sail across the sun. Tassie weather is capable of four seasons within an hour let alone a day and we fit in accordingly without much complaint... Awaking to a sunny morning, we packed lunch and set off for Maydena and the Styx State Forest to walk amongst the Giants. One of the larger reserves of tall, old growth trees, still relatively untouched in Tasmania are to be found on the slopes of the Maydena Range, we looked forward to seeing the BIG and BIGGER swamp gums. A sign demonstrating ‘duty of care’ asked walkers to avoid windy days in the forest due to the risk of falling limbs! The roar of wind in the tree tops accompanied by flailing branches and creaking tree trunks plus obvious graveyards of fallen monsters did not reassure Lea nor did George’s flippant comment ‘be ready to run...’

George takes the seat to admire the spectacular swamp gum piercing the sky at 87metres. We couldn’t help being affected by the Bigger Tree’s presence and beauty knowing it diminishes in size the older it becomes - due to storm damage. In earlier years it was recorded at 97metres!

Having survived the inherent ’dangers’ of Big Tree walk and the River Styx walk we decided there was enough time to get through to Lake Pedder for lunch.

A pan of the Western Arthur Range with its ridges, cliffs and craggy towers not only added scenically to the day’s outing, it indicated the rain race we were up against...

According to Senator Bob Brown, Leader of the Green’s Political Party and one of Tasmania’s best known green activists, Lake Pedder was once “one of the most gently beautiful places on the planet” until 1972 when State government of the day decided this inaccessible glacial lake and its surrounding valleys should be flooded as part of a huge hydroelectric scheme. All entailed a very controversial and damaging project. In January 2003, we had gone to see the structures involved in the damming of the Gordon River at Strathgordon and seen the upper reaches of Lake Pedder. This time, we came to the bottom end to see the two saddle dams (the Edgar and Scotts Peak) built across the Huon River which led to the flooding of Lake Pedder.

This curious currawong brightened our picnic! It was too cold and wet outside as we partook of an unfortunate lunch of dried ryvita minus avocado, Lea had unwittingly replaced in the fruit basket instead of the esky.

From our central position at New Norfolk we took a most pleasant ride along the northern bank of the River Derwent to Bridgewater and on through undulating countryside to Richmond, one of the oldest and best preserved towns in Australia. George was thrilled to be able to add to his ever growing list of Australian Superlatives - The oldest Roman Catholic Church - St John (1837) AND the oldest bridge still in use (1823), both in Richmond.

 
A tale of a ghost was further ‘good news’ for George! During the bridge’s construction, convict labour turned on a brutal supervisor, beat him to death and threw him into the Coal River to forever haunt the bridge - we saw nothing!

There were an amazing number of day-visitors in delightful Richmond this Monday. Coaches and motorhomes kept coming. The sudden showers or ‘monkey weddings’ as we call them when the sun shines as rain falls had all tourists scurrying for temporary cover in the nearest art gallery, woodcraft or gift shop throughout the morning. We continued a loop through the Coal Valley vineyards and Butchers Hill to Rosny Park where the film The Hunter was showing. Filmed in remote Tasmanian Wilderness we were keen to see it. Imagine our thrill when the very same landscape we travelled through to Lake Pedder appeared on screen especially the Forest Protest Camp in the Upper Florentine which had us regretting we hadn’t stopped only driven slowly by peering in at the rough and tumble camp squeezed into the forest despite a banner Welcome to Camp Flozza – Where we live the dream of arboreal nirvana! This is the longest running Blockade in Tasmanian history and the STILL WILD STILL THREATENED campaign of 2006 continues to raise a public profile for forests such as the Styx and Upper Florentine. We found The Hunter an evocative reminder of all the beauty we had experienced within the Western Wilderness Areas.

Returning ‘home’ to Howden we prepared for a special event evening... Amanda and Alison’s arrival in Tasmania TEN years ago!

Celebrating with Amanda and Alison- This was a rare ‘night on the town’ for us. Shortly after, we were joined by John Daly and another Amanda for fine dining at the Hobart Casino Hotel followed by The Pointer Sisters show.

Having grown up in Rhodesia we’d been deprived of live shows by overseas performers and, although we vaguely recalled hit music of these Californian siblings from the 70 and 80’s we were excited about attending- Understandably, we didn’t recognise the sisters as these three now cross three generations – original Ruth, her daughter and a grand-daughter! Together with their backing band they created a BIG sound of fun, lights and music and we were rapidly caught up in the moment by it all despite mostly unfamiliar funky and disco styled tunes.

Keeping us particularly busy was the installation of ranch style fencing along the front boundary of Alison and Amanda’s property. The mid section had been there when they bought their block only it was now pretty wobbly and rotten, requiring replacement. Add that during the years of huskies, wire fencing had dominated. Now it was time to create a more visually appealing facade. The planks were ordered and George, never one to let the moss grow under his feet got stuck in. Naturally, he required a ‘handlunger’ or App’ie and Lea fitted the bill. This physically demanding work occurred on particularly hot days proving Tasmania temperatures get high enough to generate a good sweat.

Three hundred and seventy five metres of timber led to sore backs and ear, splinters, blood blisters and torn skin from old wire and many expletives yet it WAS a pleasure doing something so constructive.

Soon after we’d intimated we’d be coming to Tasmania, the two A’s invited us to Maria Island. Alison reckoned it was the only place they could take us to that we’d hadn’t as yet seen in Tasmania and booked a trip for the last weekend of November. A glorious day dawned (one, rarely bettered), both working girls had taken a day of leave and we set off in two well laden vehicles early that Friday morning bound for the morning ferry leaving Triabunna, on the East Coast.

We had contemplated going to Maria Island in 2008 until the thought of carting everything over onto an island looking incredibly wild and steep as it rose out of the sea, put us off. What one perceives is not always how it is!

It was with some trepidation, Lea made this journey in the company of her cousin, despite our hostesses going out of their way to ensure our every comfort in the old penitentiary on Maria Island - NO sleeping on the ground in tents! We were first on the dock with our numerous goods and chattels – enough to seem like we were away for a week not a weekend that we were glad to slip away for a coffee rather than stand by feeling embarrassed!

Drawing up at the wharf of Maria Island National Park produced sweeping bays and soft rolling hills with historic ruins and a cluster of whitewashed buildings nestled comfortably in a valley.

Fortunately there were heavy duty trolleys available to haul all our clobber along the track into Darlington.

Our 'overflow luggage' landed up in a larger trolley... Amanda and Lea helped the young lads with the load only to be almost run off their feet as the trolley hurtled up the hill at break neck speed.

The long Penitentiary built in the 1830’s as six conjoined rooms much like today offers similar basic accommodation. The difference THEN being over 400 prisoners slept within, on nothing like the three comfortable bunk-beds our rooms each provided along one wall to sleep six or the wooden table with attached seats or a wood fired heater! We were further spoilt as the A’s had learnt that bringing camping table and chairs to set up outside the door gave fine views across the harbour and mainland Tasmania in one direction, the hillside with wildlife activity in another direction and our immediate surrounds of historic buildings provided a green courtyard guarded by Cape Barren Geese. These handsome birds with pale grey plumage and black marking on their wings and tails, in similar size to a domestic goose, paraded around the courtyard on their pink legs and black feet. Head, with a distinctive yellowish cere on its short black bill, would nod most agreeably after suitably hounding off intruders who dared feed within their grazing area. Yes, these birds are in competition with all the other grazers feeding predominantly on the common island tussock – and we laughed at their bullying tactics on a young wombat that ventured onto ‘their’ ground. Moved it on by pecking its rear end! They certainly didn’t bother the mature wombats.

In the 1950’s the numbers for Cape Barren Goose was low enough for scientists to fear their extinction. A small number were introduced to Maria Island in 1968 and breeding has obviously been most successful.

In actual fact there are now more geese alive today than at any time since the settlement of Australia. Although no longer in danger they never-the-less remain one of the rarest of the world’s geese. We found them to be full of character and on a number of occasions when we collected water from the only tap we’d feel quite daunted by 5 or 6 geese descending down the slope with wings outstretched and flapping as they ran towards us as if in attack... We soon discovered they didn’t want to miss out on a drink should any water drain away.

Aside from the fact that Maria Island has provided a sanctuary for the introduction of several threatened species in more recent years it was first considered suitable for a penal settlement until prisoners found ways of escaping. However, as we leant in time, not all the buildings or ruins around Darlington belonged to the convict eras of 1825-1832 and 1842-1896, on the opposite side of the ‘green courtyard’ to the penitentiary we gazed upon an incongruously stylish weatherboard ‘Coffee Palace’ and wondered why it had been placed there until the museum within unfolded a cultural history and understanding of the island’s history during a further two separate eras of industry.

The Coffee Palace at dawn

Just as well a very wet Saturday afternoon gave us the time to shelter awhile in the Coffee Palace come boarding house once run by Rosa Adkins who swore she’d be carried out feet first before she’d leave the Island. And she was! At the age of 96 she was the last person to be buried in the little cemetery, having brought up six young children singlehandedly after her husband was accidentally killed at the Cement Works. We found ourselves making sense of all the different buildings across the years while comfortably seated in the reading room and the dining room listening to audio recordings of stories. Here, we formed a holistic picture of all the happenings of Maria Island. From a penal settlement where the renowned Irish political prisoner William Smith O’Brien was housed to the Italian entrepreneur, Diego Bernacchi’s styling of a Mediterranean paradise with vineyards for tourists that never quite got off the ground thanks to the Great Depression followed by the Cement Works that went bust.

That first day we took the Great Short Walk recommended as one of Tasmania’s 60 best walking opportunities- Painted Cliffs, Maria Island which took us up and down dale, through eucalypt forests and across cleared paddocks once used as hop fields or for grape growing. There was much to distract us – birds to identify, the Oast House, Forester kangaroo, Bennets wallabies, Tasmanian native hen and more Cape Barren goose to watch or be watched by. A perfect introduction to the island!

George, not used to such a slow pace took this panoramic shot of Hopground Beach while he waited for us women.

At the far end of Hopground Beach we pondered the beautifully coloured and patterned sandstone forming The Painted Cliffs - extensively exposed by the low tide. Wave action also forms interesting features along the rocky platform and into the cliff face. The curling action vaguely similar to the tumbling beauty of The Breakaway Cliffs we enthused over back in April, as we came across Western Australia. A High in the Strait made the sea water a perfect temperature for dipping feet and encouraging a swim. Alison and Amanda planned to swim next day BUT contrary to the forecast, we’d had our days of sunny weather. Despite Saturday morning assurances “It’s just sea mists which will soon burn off” as George prepared to go further afield, taking the mountain climb to Bishop and Clerk (also registered in Tasmania’s 60 Great Short Walks) clouds continued to move in with no sign of any blue in the sky. Meanwhile the ladies roamed the foothills and along the rugged cliffs, trying to keep out of the wind. We enjoyed three soaring sea eagles and a pair of flame robins while welcome swallows darted around our legs catching the flying insects we disturbed. We met a party of Maria Island walkers- a Tour group on a 3-4 day hike across the Island. These ladies were returning from Bishop and Clerk having reached the extensive field of boulders (scree slopes) before turning back knowing views would be hidden and not prepared to do the strenuous rock hopping in thick mists. They had climbed the higher Mount Maria the previous day and were content with having seen the views from there. They reported passing George at the halfway mark. Mid-day brought the first bits of drizzle and we turned homeward to Darlington via the more protected Convict Reservoir Circuit. We made it back to our ‘cell’ just before the rain set in and George arrived shortly after having achieved the 12km return to the columnar summit of Bishop and Clerk.

The craggy top of Bishop and Clerk enveloped in swirling mist, it’s not the destination but journey that counts!

Although rain kept up throughout the afternoon and evening we had lots to ‘sticky beak’ from our spot on the veranda/corridor. A friendly mob of six from Victoria arrived on an ‘Adventure Tour’ and took up the end room beside us – their amiable Guides at the opposite end of the Penitentiary were kept mighty busy too-ing and fro-ing with wine and food cooked on their small portable stoves. Once the party was judged suitably mellow, the Guides arrived in white convict uniform to dress their clients in the same. Lots of fun seeing all attired in distinctive prison garb with I did time on Maria Island down their backs!

Awaking to more rain we considered returning on the morning ferry. However, Maria Island had cast its spell over us and we were reluctant to leave. Tiny bits of blue gave us hope and while the A’s packed up George and Lea, rugged up and set off down to Darlington Beach, past the Commissariat Store and cement silos Lea had missed seeing on arrival as her head had been well down, holding on to a trolley for dear life! At the jetty we turned up the hill to the ruined buildings we had noticed from the Penitentiary. In an old barn constructed by convicts we found a range of ancient farming implements and noticed a wombat had taken up residence at the rear- it remained very still, convinced it was hidden from our eyesight despite George taking a photo a metre away! After visiting the cemetery, the landing strip and the Fossil Cliffs with a track leading down to the 1920’s quarry site where millions of fossilised shellfish were mined for lime we climbed the steep hill taking us to the top section we’d explored the day before, with all its fine views.

We took a break overlooking the splendid cliff wall leading towards Bishop and Clerk. George hoped the cloud cover would move off and reveal its peak. That didn’t happen until we pulled out on the ferry

After another excellent morning’s exploration of the island, we collected the camera trap, Alison and George had set up along a ‘creature highway’! What pleasure these two have had setting up camera traps in different parts of the property back in Howden to see who and what is moving around by night. Naturally they couldn’t resist setting the two cameras up on the island- although they had to wait until they returned home to download the images captured. We returned to the Penitentiary taking the Convict Reservoir circuit as George hadn’t been that way. The skies briefly cleared as we relaxed in the sun and enjoyed our remaining hours before retracing our steps to the ferry and home. A treat of a weekend, indeed!

HARD LABOUR returned as the final section fencing was dismantled and replaced to match the rest. The two gateways began their facelifts as November drew to a close.

Tramping tales for October 2011

TRUNDLING TASMANIA

Crossing the sea to Tasmania is exciting – we felt as if we were off on an overseas holiday! Never mind that ever since 9/11 the Melbourne Ferry Port Security opens its gates two and a half hours before the evening sail causing no end of angst for those travellers with a van in tow. We’d been advised to leave Macedon Caravan Park 90 minutes before the gates opened. At our gentle speed with icy winds blowing we arrived in around 55 minutes and spotted a few caravans pulled up and parked either side of nearby Williamstown Road. Fortunately there was a place for us and we followed suit, patiently waiting out the hour. Later however, further down the road on reaching the turning circle we found a mighty queue backed up from the Ferry gates stretching down the beachside road. Impossible to move and almost impossible to join the end of the queue due to traffic lights! This daily occurrence must infuriate Melbournians locked into beach parks during peak season! It was frustratingly awful for us with the setting sun in our faces and engine running for well over an hour. Ten years since 9/11, has this problem of waiting to board been eased in any way or only growing? Fortunately once the ticket office opened we were processed slickly. No bleary eyed journey for us this time we’d booked a cabin to Devonport with a day sailing return in February. Soon after making our bookings we were contacted and told the day sailing had been cancelled and we’d be given a free armchair on the night sail unless we wanted to upgrade – we did, extremely happy with the bargain!

Our cabin was perfect, although it took time lurching across the Bass Strait to find our sea feet. Never quite know what to expect crossing as horrendous seas are possible! Arising at a generally unheard of hour for us – lights twinkled on the dry land as Spirit of Tasmania drew into dock within the very narrow heads at Devonport on a chilled but perfect day dawning. We were soon out on the open road for Port Sorrell arriving well before 8 to find caravan Parks had changed since we last stayed. This threw us somewhat and we drove aimlessly around the sleeping town trying to decide what to do, where to stay. Finally pulled up roadside for breakfast and a think! Accidently found an open IGA supermarket and yet again, changed plans. Grabbed fresh fruit and vegetables and made for Narawntapu National Park. Wombats in our favourite site – what could be more perfect! Mostly nocturnal, these wombats obviously found the cold too much and spent the day grazing and basking in the sun with little concern for Sunday visitors unless they approached too closely. That afternoon modem signal was enough to share animal stories with Ella and Finn over skype - Mango monkey’s antics and destructive ways plus tagging a new lioness in Niassa while we had a wombat grazing outside our caravan door. Intermittently, its back legs collapsed and a quick kip followed. Oh course our African grandchildren didn’t know what a wombat was... George took photos and e-mailed them.

This gentle landscape turf, kept mown by the wombats, wallabies and pademelons as we have known it from past stays had a large covering of water, an extension of the lagoon. No wonder we enjoy returning to special places and noting seasonal changes

As we strolled towards the water we listened intently to new sound -Distant drums? Jewish harps? No, the magnificent sounds of Eastern Banjo frogs (‘Pobblebonks) – we found them ethereal musicians.

We stayed three nights enjoying the peace and beauty. George took a hike - with wife’s utterings to ‘be careful out on his own as she’d be the one to cope with the fallout’ ringing through his head. So much so, in an area of thick bush he found himself planning what he’d do if he was bitten by a snake. No sooner had he laid emergency action within his mind (get to the beach and write ‘snake bite’ in the sand before collapsing) than a large tiger snake slipped over the path ahead of him. Coincidental thinking and two snakes caused him to relate the tale on his safe return!

From the top of Archers Knob overlooking the water filled plains of Springlawn.

We turned south to Longford Riverside Caravan Park, the closest to Launceston airport to await the arrival of Paula Baxter coming to see the western side of Tasmania with us. We set up overlooking the lawns down to the Macquarie River on quite the warmest and perfect evening we’d had in a long while but it wasn’t to last. As soon as we’d collected Paula the rain began, confining us to Getaway. Fortunately we had a lot of catching up to do and time didn’t hang heavy. Weather dependent - we decided to make further plans to stay or go the following morning. It was dry with a blue sky above encircled in distant cloud – we stayed another day, packed a picnic lunch and set off to visit Ben Lomond National Park, southeast of Launceston.

From Carr Villa we began ascending Legges Tor, the second highest peak in Tasmania. Ice on top of the saddle with a biting wind was enough for us. We retraced our steps and enjoyed a picnic on a sunny rock outside Carr Villa Scout Hall.


Highlight! Driving up Jacob’s ladder to see Ben Lomond’s marvellous points of view, reminding us all of Sani Pass, Lesotho. Thank goodness ski season was over as we’d hated to have given way to descending traffic!

As one of the oldest states in Australia, Tassie has a rich colonial heritage. En route home to Longford we stopped in Evandale; both are among the many National Trust’s classified towns. Evandale is famed for its annual National Penny Farthing Championships and while strolling through Pioneer Park incorporating the cemetery, we came across a man walking his usual mode of transport- a well kept penny farthing. Having been to Perth, Scotland and lived in Perth, Western Australia we couldn’t resist a slight detour through the town of Perth, Tasmania before reaching our site.

Departing Longford we drove Paula up the west side of the Tamar Valley and briefly crossed at Batman Bridge to show her one of our well used camp sites from the past. Nights are still too cold to resume freedom camping! We stayed higher up the Tamar River at Beauty Point. Beaconsfield known as the town Gold from as far back as 1880 came into the limelight in 2006 when a rock fall killed a miner and trapped two for fourteen days. We’d found the Heritage Centre most interesting so while Paula walked through that we walked the self guided tour of the town before taking the road through Holwell Gorge to Narawntapu National Park to share another three nights with Paula in our special spot.

Forester kangaroos curiously watched us pass as we took the Springlawn Nature Trail at evening time. Wombats either grazed unconcerned or scurried away while the pobblebonks strummed pianissimo!

While padding along the pathway that leads towards Archers Knob from the bird hide a succession of strange grunts and rhythmic splashing noises in the lagoon had us come to a standstill peering through the trees to see what in the devil was going on. There, on the fringe of a clump of tea trees was the dark shape of an animal swimming round and round, in pirouette fashion, splashing as it went. Could it be a platypus slapping its tail on the water surface? Had it been injured? Why the raised head and what on earth was the object hanging below its head, not to mention the spiny, porcupine-like tail we could see flapping in synchrony? All sorts of thoughts flashed through our heads as we tried to discern what was going on as George silently stared long and hard through his binoculars before eventually declaring it was a male musk duck involved in some sort of territorial display. He had never seen one before, nor witnessed such strange behaviour. According to Pizzey and Knight’s Birds of Australia “the male in display fans its tail forwards over its back and expands under tail covers like a powder-puff; bill raised, bill-flap expanded, rotates slowly in water, throwing foot-splashes with a loud ‘k-plonk’; simultaneously uttering a grunt and a shrill, far carrying whistle”. We had witnessed exactly this remarkably peculiar behaviour.

A strange duck indeed is the Musk Duck! Too far away to be photographed but with the aid of a rough sketch produced by George its basic appearance is as shown.


Each morning we took long walks, exploring the Park from the top of Archers Knob and along Bakers Beach. While evenings were enjoyed out in gentle landscape with the foraging creatures.

Along the beach at low tide, thousands of sand pebble crabs marched in regiments towards the sea that it took effort to try not squash them as we strode along. We also came across a good many ten-limbed starfish left high and dry by the tide. They seemed dead until we turned them over and noticed faint movement in their papillae.

 
For the first time we have observed an aquatic wombat wading back after a feed on a sedge bed. Even wombat courting behaviours and wombats covered in mange as a result of the excessive dampness in their burrows.

That last night George entered the caravan bubbling with excitement over an unexpected confrontation with a possum. He had been quietly cleaning the electric frypan at the caravan’s outside table when a dark brown shadow appeared from under the caravan and tried to climb up his leg then sniffed his ugg boot and nipped the toe while he stood stock still and watched all this activity. Not sure we quite believed him we piled out to see...

Sure enough possum posed! (Brushtail Possum) George was stung by the nettles he’d previously told Paula weren’t nettles in taking this photograph.

Narawntapu Park Staff had recommended their vehicle service centre in Port Sorrell and we headed there in readiness for the appointment George had made for early the following day. We were most pleasantly surprised to turn into Port Sorrell Lion’s Caravan Park (ignoring the entrance area which had initially turned us away) and discover wonderful beach frontage informally concealed in coastal bush. SKV’s service was completed in a couple of hours giving us unexpected time to explore and we set off for Latrobe with a picnic lunch. We soon found the Australian Axeman’s Hall of Fame and learnt much about Australia’s timber and wood-chopping heritage since 1891. In particular, we followed the Foster family story (father and sons) producing consecutive champions for ten years each over two decades.

After resupplying in Devonport, we followed the coastal route to Rianna. Barely had we settled in than minds changed about staying! We promptly stowed everything away for the second time in a day and left for Wynyard - drawn by the Bloomin’ Tulips Festival taking place the following day. Despite the wet forecast a lovely day dawned and we thoroughly enjoyed a day out on the banks of the Inglis River at the Tulip Festival with its variety of sights and sounds. At different times of the day we sat in the warm sun and listened to the municipal orchestra, an Australian country singer and Defence Mechanism (Army Band). Also watched tulip tossers of all ages, sex and size attempting record throws with tulip plants that more often went awry than somewhere down the length of a tape measure! Mid-day we drove up the prominent Table Cape landmark as far as the 1818 lighthouse.

We picnicked below the lighthouse with this view of the Table Cape Tulip fields.


Pink ladies on the track up to the Table Cape Lookout close to Frederick Alexander’s homestead (Alexander Technique)

On moving further northwest, we stopped at Crayfish Creek Caravan Park and found a pleasant site within a thick paperbark forest for two nights. As soon as we’d unhitched we set off to explore new area within a Forest Reserve and see its big Tree – a 400 year old Browntop stringy bark reaching 62 metres into the sky. We found a most beautiful Dip Falls marked within the reserve yet most strangely it doesn’t merit a mention in the Tasmanian Waterfalls book!

Not unusually tall but its circumference of 16 metres with plenty of bunions and burls is exceptional.


Not enough publicity is given these most unusual falls formed of hexagonal shaped columns of basalt. This is a vertical pan in an attempt to display the lace-like affect of the water falling over the rocks.

The second day at Crayfish Creek was wet, wet, wet! Never the less we drove to picturesque Stanley where the Begg two firmly stayed put in the relative comfort of SKV as we showed Paula around and watched her defy the elements especially in her climb up Circular Head better known as “The Nut”. Of course we ribbed her for being a ‘nutter’ while secretly admiring her fortitude. After checking on the Tarkine road status with National Parks we retired to the local Chippy to discuss our next move over warming fish and chips. Heeding the warning against taking the gravelled “Road to No Where” down the west coast, the decision was taken to follow the Bass Highway as far as Smithton after lunch and since George was keen to check out Montagu Park, 20kms NW of Smithton (‘ticked’ campsite 245) that was as far into the northwest we’d travel this time round in view of the notorious weather that regularly slams the West coast. Even in the wind and rain Montagu Park looked very nice for summer days not to mention fishing folk!

In view of the weather, we took the safer and less interesting inner western road from Burnie down to Waratah.

Brrr! We camped behind the clump of trees in Waratah Council campground. It must be said for a little place in a harsh environment the Council stands out for its extraordinary effort to make visitors feel welcomed and informed. No wonder we like returning here.

Revisiting Waratahs’ heritage with Paula was no less enjoyable than the first time and in between rain we managed a walk to the base of the Waratah Falls. As soon as lunch was over we drove through the mountainous wilderness area towards Savage River drawn by Luina, a mining settlement bulldozed out of raw bush in the 1800’s and at its closure in 1986, reduced to foundations and inexorably reclaimed by Mother Nature.

Sure was bitterly cold yet we were delighted to be given this wonderful insight over the Tarkine Wilderness. Lea felt this was a far better introduction to the Tarkine than the Road to No Where route!


A pan of the Tarkine Wilderness from Mount Whyte Lookout.

By evening, the banks of low dark clouds blowing in from the west cleared blue above us encouraging George to cook our sausages in the well protected BBQ hut. The break in the weather was short lived as during the night it worsened, with snow falls reported on the mountains. Certainly not worth risking icy mountain roads we stayed put in Waratah. Paula and Lea took a break from the confined space of Getaway in the local museum across the road. By late afternoon drier conditions enabled us to walk to mine scarred Mount Bishoff and fossick amongst the waste materials, roughly identifying from recall, the minerals seen in the museum. Iron ore, lead, some specks of amethyst and fool’s gold.

We couldn’t have wished for a better day for the short journey to Rosebery and as soon as we’d unhitched, left money under the office door for our site in an empty Rosebery Caravan Park - we made for another relic of the region’s mining history- Williamsford, a settlement in name only, over-run by wilderness. The plaque marking its mine site began “If it isn’t raining consider yourself lucky” We DID, in the full knowledge that many folk living within the West Coast’s inspiring landscape are still challenged by it, enduring a love-hate relationship with its climates of extreme.

En route to the Montezuma Falls following the historic NE Dundas Tramway built in 1890 – an incredible feat of engineering tenacity accomplished in hazardous conditions little knowing the alignment would live on in perpetuity, bringing three hours of deep pleasure to hikers walking the track.

Fifteen kilometres from Williamsford to Zeehan as the crow flies yet three times as far by tram to maintain a suitable gradient with lots of bends (approximately 60 in every 2 kms of line apparently!).

The 104m high Montezuma Falls, the highest in Tasmania with a narrow foot plate suspension bridge giving its finest view

We took the round route to Strahan via Zeehan. We were keen to refresh our memory of Zeehan as we’d last tent-camped here back in 2003 and we wanted Paula to see a fraction of the bleaker Tarkine coastal area. Although a chilly wind blew us into Strahan and the beautiful Macquarie Harbour it soon calmed down.


Walking the esplanade we soon found ourselves peeling off what layers of clothing we decently could. Turned out Strahan experienced a most unexpected mini-heat wave of 24degreeC that Spring day!

We were most keen for Paula to experience the World Heritage 6 hour cruise taking in Hell’s Gates (the Heads to the Harbour); stopping at the penal colony of notorious repute - Sarah Island in the middle of the harbour before going up the Gordon River for a circular walk in the forest of Huon and King Billy pines which we recommended, having thoroughly enjoyed doing the trip in 2003. A booking was made despite inclement weather apparently on its way. Hard to believe but it certainly came to pass with a sharp burst of thunder and lightning breaking our sleep followed by rain over most of the day. Never the less the catamaran, Eagle came up trumps for Paula and the rain hardly detracted- thank goodness.

A stop in Queenstown was on the agenda en route for Lake St Clair simply for the unexpected shock value it gives set amidst the vast wilderness beauty we have come to know. We were delayed another day... as soon as we’d hitched up for the mountain road in rain and wind - HAIL arrived topped by reports of snow at 600 feet to quickly dissuade us going any further! Although hail kept falling on and off throughout the day we managed a drive out to the Heads and a wind driven walk down Ocean Beach. Just too early for the arrival of mutton birds and their breeding season. Blue skies drew us up the mountain a day later with evidence of snow and ice edging the road- we’d made a good call!

En route to Lake St Clair we stopped a couple of times to stretch our legs and with the use of 60 Great Short Walks, Tasmania took in Donaghys Hill giving wonderful views of the snow capped peaks especially Frenchman’s Cap and Franklin River; while the second walk to Nelson Falls went through classical cool temperate rain forest.

“Nevermore, however weary, should one faint by the way who gains the blessings of one mountain day. Whatever his fate, short life, stormy or calm, he is forever rich”- John Muir – First Summer in Sierra. View over the Franklin Gordon Wild Rivers National Park from Donaghys Lookout.

The camp ground in the National Park was under major renovations- only a few sites without power and well away from the toilet block available. We wanted to enjoy the remains of a beaut day granted us in the mountains that we decided to brave a powerless night, made camp in the tall forest before setting off for the afternoon to do the short walks in the vicinity of Lake St Clair. Despite a long watch at the Ornithorhynchus Paradoxus Lookout we failed to spot a platypus! We all survived the Minus 2 night. In return, found a perfect day waiting to be enjoyed and couldn’t resist a last look at Lake St Clair before departure. Reluctance to leave was written across Paula and George’s face as we gazed up at Mount Rufus... Waste not a magnificent day, the decision to take the half day Shadow and Forgotten Lakes Trail was made by these two practised bush-walkers. Well worthwhile-they arrived back enthusing about their 13km experience.

An indication of the depth of the snow through which George and Paula walked as they neared Forgotten Lake with Mt Hugil in the background.

Lea, with her troublesome knee remained at base reading with a late lunch ready for their estimated return. All went according to plan and we made haste to Bronte Park in the historic Highland Hydro Village with a compulsory stop at ‘The Wall’ in Derwent Bridge to show Paula the remarkable skills of sculptor Greg Duncan not to mention our keenness to see the progress made, at the halfway mark – March 2010 in his planned ten year depiction of the regions forestry and hydro history carved from Huon pine panels. Once again we weren’t disappointed in our admiration and it was great to see work on display, belonging to his son, David Duncan, definitely following in his father’s talented footsteps.

Bronte Park was lovely- especially captivating were three tiny, historic cabins, each sparsely done up to mark a time lapse between first sight and six months later. The first, most daunting considering this harsh environment signed- Welcome to your new home for the next 2-10 years. While the following two, ‘Moving in’ looked so rough and basic and far from inviting and Six Months later with additional home comforts like wireless reminded Paula and Lea of many little items - gone with the past! The huge pipelines feeding the hydro stations in this mountainous region are a weird combination of feature and eyesore as we moved on to Wayatinah with its pleasant lakeside caravan park. Whew! Were we glad to pull in there almost hyperventilating from a horribly narrow escape from a grocery van taking a corner on the wrong side of the road. We recovered somewhat in the finely positioned site we were especially given, overlooking the lake for one night only! The Park was fully booked out as Tasmanians were descending in readiness for the extra long Show Day weekend. We enjoyed a blissfully hot day in summer gear. Late afternoon, ‘locals’ began arriving and setting up laagers and partying around their fires well past normal curfew hour!

Summer’s calling! We enjoyed dinner outdoors for the FIRST time.

Glad to leave yet full of qualms as to where we’d spend the next night we continued down the steep Derwent River Valley. Hamilton was too close to the highway but another of our favourite places, New Norfolk, was relatively empty with a landscape as English as they come. Snowlike May blossom dusted all the hedges while blackbirds chirruped and sang ever so sweetly. We counted ourselves extremely lucky and relaxed in a sunny setting just as if we were in England. We moved on to Howden, south of Hobart, taking up residence on cousin Alison and Amanda’s property – a perfect escape from the hurly burly of caravan parks over a long weekend.

Amanda, Lea, Alison and Paula halt for a team photo during the evening walk in the Peter Murrell Conservation Park adjoining their property. Minute orchids confined to the park were on show – all too easy to miss unless you know what to look for. We were shown the Bearded Orchid.

By Sunday, the thick cloud that had heavily shrouded Mount Wellington for two days began clearing and we decided a visit to this beautiful mountain would be on order that day. Alison was keen to share one of her favourite walks up there, ‘The Pipeline’, as it is an integral part of Hobart’s ongoing and historical Mountain Water Supply that began in 1861. Like the tramway track in Montezuma, the physical feats of laying pipeline within difficult terrain endure. Captain Cook himself was derogatory about the impenetrable forests on climbing the mountain. The labours of those pioneers add enormously to our pleasure.

The Pipeline, “The scenery along this track is lovely beyond conception... Those who wish to behold Tasmanian scenery in its highest perfection should traverse this track”.


The calmest outlook ever experienced atop Mt Wellington. This is the best place to understand something of Tasmania’s many fingered coastal topography.

True to forecast we awoke to a wet Monday putting us in two minds whether to begin the Huon Valley route south. Not wishing to tear up newly mown lawn George was keen to turn the caravan before the ground was completely sodden. Once that was accomplished we took off south for Bruny Island with its rich history and wild, spectacular landscape. We were taken aback by an expensive ferry crossing despite concession status. In fact, we have found costs in general have risen considerably since our 2008 visit. George checked his records and in every case park tariffs have doubled or increased by 30%. Almost every shower has had a timer fitted and incurs a user fee – understandably a water saving device that must have come about during the severe drought. However, not only is the added cost most irritating (particularly when it uses up carefully collected laundry dollars) it’s the aggravation that arises from chilly ablution blocks while in a nude condition and wasting your precious ‘time allocation in a battle to get the ‘mix’ right. Leaping around a small cubicle comes not from an effort to keep warm but avoidance to startling bouts of scalding or icy water. Water adjustment tends to be impossible and hair washing merely adds to the whole fretful performance. ALL is definitely not conducive to a quick, warming and relaxed ‘bath-time’.

We took a site for two nights in Captain Cook Caravan Park, on South Island overlooking Adventure Bay just as the weather began clearing enough for us to consider an afternoon drive up the steep forest reserve road of Mt Mangana (the highest peak on the island) through to Cape Bruny Lighthouse. After taking in the views and history from the Lighthouse station we left SKV at the Jetty Beach camping area and took to the Luggaboine Circuit giving us a beautiful walk through coastal heath, eucalypt forests and back along the southern coastline. Decent weather continued, enabling us to explore The Neck the following day and check whether Fairy Penguins and mutton birds (Shearwaters) were arriving for the breeding season – a few penguin footprints on the beach indicated a start. Thereafter we moved a little further north to enjoy the three hour return walk to Queen Elizabeth Cape - coincidentally the very day, Queen Elizabeth arrived in Australia. Late afternoon we followed the track out to Grass Point with its historical interpretation boards on the mind-boggling whaling history that took place in Adventure Bay.

Returning to the mainland we continued the Huon Valley Trail following the coast beside the D’Entrecasteaux Channel overlooking Bruny Island and lunched in our familiar Gordon Foreshore Reserve. Although tempted to stay the night, power in Cygnet won out and we moved on to this caravan park. The next day we took Paula to Huon Point telling her of the friendships that arose around the electricity pole last time we were here - memories of the Pole Gang characters flooded back. The campground was empty, we unhitched, plugged into the pole, packed up a picnic and left to spend the rest of the day up in the Tahune Forest Reserve. We discovered the walks had now been incorporated into the Tahune Air-walk Experience. We weren’t interested in the pricey suspended canopy air-walk; just wanted to do the river walks and see the remnants of the ‘old folk’ (Huon pines). Fortunately on enquiry, Paula inadvertently said she was a local in the Australian sense when they probably intended Tasmanian– and we were allowed to cross the bridge over the Huon River and enjoy the forest environment from the ground especially the Swinging Bridges Circuit.

Crossing the Wild Rivers of Huon and Picton via the swinging bridges


A map of Tasmania’s South and the Huon Valley Trail at Huon Point!

Back at Huon Point, the historical steamer port where cargoes of hand packed, premium Tasmanian apples in crates distinctively labelled, were once loaded and sent to the markets of London, Liverpool, Bristol and Birmingham until 1982 when Britain joined the European Common Market collapsing this Apple Isle industry, we found ourselves paying double for the pleasure of the view parking on the Yacht club campground this time round. Even received a warning that power was not included and should the Ranger come by we’d be fined even though they were aware we had not broken into the power box on the pole and there was no sign to the contrary! Providentially we’d just finished cooking dinner when the Club’s fee collector arrived and politely informed us. We removed our power cord although George was to quietly insert it later just to warm his bed despite being a mild night!

Continuing our travel between hills and sheltered waterways, past orchards, salmon fisheries and sheep farms we steadily made our way into the Far South on a very drizzly day to reach Australia’s southern-most Hotel, tavern and Caravan Park at the entrance to Southport where we took up a night. A rare and unseasonal sight was to find a park so out of the way virtually full due to a Winnebago Rally taking place!

From Southport, Queensland TO Southport, Tasmania - Home from home, Paula accomplished her mission although it is not always the destination but the journey that counts!

A halt in the sprinkling rain allowed us to show Paula what little there was to Southport and walk along the beaches. Southport is predominantly a settlement of fishing enthusiasts that have obviously been coming here for generations. Lobster and Abalone industries ply their trades off shore evidenced by a picturesque red boat tied up with a deck full of lobster pots and a refrigerated abalone truck leaving Southport. Not only did we find the surf slowly eroding the road platforms no doubt giving the council headaches keeping abreast of repairs, we found a line of owners with homes foolishly built on the shore side forced to safeguard their properties using boulders, sand and cement too little effect against the everyday high tide and inevitable rise in sea levels!

As the sea inexorably eats at foundations this owner has to keep patching walls after waves gnaw into the house.

A shocking day- unable to do much at all and not good for taking the dirt road into the far Southwest National Park to camp in our forest glade close to Gilhams Beach; we could only sit it out by spending another day in Southport relieved to see the Winnebago Rally members depart. We didn’t even dare consider the three hour Southport Bluff Walk despite an interesting ride to Deep Hole on the Ida Bay heritage Railway, as it warned of muddy sections at the best of times. We sat tight, caught up on the blog or read books and worked together on crossword puzzles. Rain clouds still loomed next day that we decided to leave the caravan in situ and spend the day down at Cockle Point before cabin fever truly set in. The gravel road was relatively good for all the rain and the day stayed dry as we made our way 43 degrees south to Cockle Creek which marks the end of the continent and is as far south one can drive in Australia!

As south as south as we can go!

As George has been longing to try cooking a pork roast on his camp oven out in a bush camp, he checked out the sites along the ‘end of the world’. All were rather soggy! Finn’s Campground not only attracted him by name it contained a possible site and we discussed returning there the following day. It wasn’t to be! The bitter south wind blew us back to Geeveston instead as we knew we could escape the chill by showing Paula how this little town reinvented itself, celebrating its forestry heritage with an excellent Heritage Centre and a Southern Design Centre. We happily whiled away a good couple of hours there. The last night of October was spent back at Huon Point and we tucked into George’s roast – a good way to celebrate Paula’s last night on the road with us. We return to the cousins in Howden and will spend Paula's last few days around Hobart.