Not for the faint hearted - The road from west to east.

The road between Strahan and Hobart is 300 kms of pure brutality.  It crosses the mountain range running through the middle of the island and traverses the Franklin Gordon Wild Rivers National Park.  The west coast was serviced ably by sea via the deep water port of Strahan and Macquarie Harbour and then by rail from Burnie after it was settled.  The need for a road was not pressing and it remained nothing more than a proposed route on the surveyors map until the 1930’s and for this reason the south west of Tasmania remained largely underdeveloped.   Apart from being sealed in 1974, the road is pretty much the same as it was in the 1930’s.  

First stop is Queenstown. We expected a moonscape but when approaching from the west, it seemed pretty vegetated.  It is clearly a mining town and not very pretty, a tough place full of tough people. After checking out a disused mine, we wandered around for a bit and then decided to press on.

The next stop is Derwent Bridge, which on the map is only 80 kms, but a more labour intensive drive, I cannot recall.  One of our fellow travellers said “you can camp there, but why would you?”  It’s claim to fame is based firstly on the fact the people walking the Overland track from Cradle mountain end up at St Clair, just a stones throw away and secondly a seriously committed bloke is hand carving a timber mural that will be 350 meters long when complete ( If he doesn’t die first). We had a pub lunch and pressed on.

It was a further stretch of narrow, winding and dipping pavement until Tarraleah, a Hydro power town. There are several Hydro stations along the river system South East of the World Heritage area and have been since the 40’s. The engineering and construction of these stations is staggering, particularly when considered how remote and inhospitable the area is. The dedication and sheer determination of the workers must have been enormous. I cannot believe such a feat would be possible today, you couldn’t find anyone brave enough! We pressed on.

The next town of note was Hamilton. Quaint but not much doing.  Had a great free camp spot (loo’s but no showers) and we were tempted to pull up stumps for the day, but driver and navigator felt good . After all, we were only 70 kms from Hobart now.  I also pointed out that we had not showered for two days and I reckon we were a bit smelly .We pressed on.

The little towns grew bigger and came more quickly and we picked up the Derwent running along our right hand side.  It is a swift, dark body of water. Even in the brilliant sunshine, it looked moody. Eventually, we willed ourselves into a northern suburb of Hobart called Berriedale at about 3:30pm, exhausted but victorious.