The Tamar Valley beckoned us. Our Tasmanian journey was
quickly coming to a close and we felt some urgency to cover the last couple of
destinations. We travelled up the
eastern side of the Tamar River on a beautifully smooth, wide, dual
carriageway. This was a bit puzzling as
the road didn‘t seem to go anywhere except a place called Georgetown on the
northern coast. The road between
Launceston and Hobart wasn’t nearly as good and yet carried three times the
amount of traffic. We didn’t go to
Georgetown but instead crossed to the western side of the Tamar via the Batman
Bridge. It’s a really funky bridge
built in the 1960’s and utilises a cable stayed design. Apparently this was
necessary as one side of the river bank was all clay and unable to support much
weight. The other bank is dolomite (the same rock that cradle mountain is
mostly made of) and so it supports the towering A frame which all the cables
hang off. I loved the asymmetrical nature if it but no one else even seemed to
notice except for Andrew who pronounced that Batman isn’t a real person….. I
was not about to enter into an argument about the founder of Melbourne.
Our destination was Beaconsfield. It did not take us long (partly
due to the magnificent road – what luxury) and by late-morning we were signing
into the Beaconsfield Mine and Heritage museum. It is an excellent display, lots of history,
multimedia and hands on exhibits covering all aspects of the region’s history.
The kids had a great time at the apple packing machine and the old telephone
exchange.
Beaconsfield was put on the map back in 2006 due to the rock
slide and ensuing effort to release trapped miners. However the mining story
goes back much further, with gold being discovered in the 1840’s and the
operations going through the usual cycle of boom, bust, closure and revival.
There has been a museum onsite for many years but since the
rockslide, it has had an injection of funds and redeveloped to include the
story of the extraordinary events in April 2006. The event became world news,
partly due to the ready presence of the media
(they had assembled in Port Arthur for the 10th anniversary
of the massacre and travelled directly to Beaconsfield) and the enthralling
story of the engineering innovation, patience and determination to rescue the
two men.
These days you can not only see the museum, but enter the
precinct where the miners finally emerged, known to us all by those images
flashed around the country. We were able
to stand at the gates of the mine shaft elevator and in/out tag board. It was
quite moving.
Alas the weather closed in again and after a few hours in
the museum, we ran out of enthusiasm for further exploration. A quick family conference confirmed that no
one was interested in travelling further and we decided to stay at the pleasure
of the Tamar Council at their inviting sportsground facilities. Flush toilets!
Woo Hoo! But first we had to wait for it to stop raining.
The wind howled that night. Again, we had to set flys and
double rope. I am afraid Tasmania was
starting to get the better of us. We were cold, wind-blown and showerless. The
thought of cooking was too much for me and Beaconsfield is not known for its
culinary diversity. If we were going to
hit a low point in our journey, this was it.
A view from the van at Beaconsfield Sportsground. Note the toilet block in the foreground and the Poppet Head (top of the mine shaft structure)in the distance.
After a largely sleepless night, we packed up once more (clear skies but a howling wind – tricky) and got outta there.
We had met some lovely people weeks and weeks ago in Deniliquin who had
given us their address near Devonport.
They live in a semi-rural district and often have friends/hangers
on camping in their backyard just prior
to, or after travelling across Bass Strait on the ferry. We felt that it was time for some company
rather than sightseeing, so we gave them a call.
Gloria and Graham are an enormously generous couple who seem
to open there home to all sorts. There was a van with two ladies camped in the
yard when we arrived and before we left,
another motorhome had arrived. The evening we turned up Gloria and Graham were
going to a bushdance/fundraiser so we
thought it only proper to attend.
Bushdancing has been out of vogue for many years but I
remember working up a good sweat at the Nuclear Disarmament Party bushdances at
the Petersham town hall in the early 1990’s. I think I even took Rod to one
when we were dating but haven’t been since.
It’s like riding a bike – it all comes back to you quickly –
the Flying Pieman, the Queensland quickstep, Heel and Toe Polka. Once we
overcame the initial awkwardness, there was no stopping us. The kids joined in and Andrew was a favourite
with the ladies on the progressive Pride of Erin. Georgia overcame her initial
displeasure at having to dance with boys and eventually dumped her father in favour of
one of the local beaus.
Now before I continue, I must remind you that I predicted we
would be wearing rags by January. I hate being right all the time. We really do
look a fright now, hair out of control, no waxing /shaving performed for months
and cloths that Vinnies would reject. Georgia used the word “decomposing” when referring to
our appearance – I think she hit the nail on the head!
Despite our dodgy appearance, Gloria and Graham looked after
us, let us use their shower and washing machine and allowed us to sit in real
chairs in a real dining area and drink tea from china cups. The kids played totem tennis in the back yard. We felt like normal people again.
Sunday was our last full day in Tassie ( or “Freezmania” or
“Tas-blowing-a” as it has been affectionately dubbed) so we went to church then
spent the afternoon cleaning out the van and car, catching up on naps and generally
setting things to rights again. We met
another couple, Mike and Melody, who turned up in Gloria’s backyard in a
motorhome and spent a happy couple of hours chatting to them also. Mike is a very good amateur “illusionists”
and kept the kids entertained with card tricks and sleight-of- hand.
By Sunday night, we felt in a much better frame of mind and
ready for the final leg of the journey – The Spirit of Tasmania, Melbourne,
Snowy Mountains and finally home.
PS – Tasmania did have the last laugh… the temperature
dropped to about 3 or 4 degrees on our last night !
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