Port Arthur

The excitement was mounting as we packed up on a cool and overcast morning. Our next stop was Port Arthur and the weather seemed intent on mirroring the demeanour of one of Australia’s darker destinations. By the time we crossed the Iconic Tasman bridge the rain started to fall.  True to Tasmanian weather patterns, it had stopped a few kilometres later only to cloud over again.

Undeterred, we pressed on to Dunally and a “great camp spot” behind the Dunally pub. Yes, we seem to have a thing for pubs.   Dunally is about 40 minuets north of Port Arthur and It had been recommended to us.  We found the paddock and the portaloo adjacent to the Tavern and struck camp.  The pub doesn’t charge anything to camp in their paddock –  there are no facilities at all notwithstanding the portaloo.  I presume they hope to make a few quid on thirsty/hungry travellers if they are located right on the doorstep.  I am afraid they made nothing out of us.

There was plenty of daylight left so we decided to continue south and see how long the daylight would last. I was keen to see some of the interesting geological formations on the coast and I think the kids are secretly interested also.  We quickly accounted for the tessellated rocks, Tasman Arch, the Blowhole and Devils kitchen. Very interesting. Time was on our side, so we headed for Port Arthur in the hope to at least pre purchase tickets and plan the following day.

It turns out that a ticket allows entry for two consecutive days and the afternoon had brightened, so we plunged right in and caught one of the last introductory tours of the day.  It was a magic afternoon and despite many of the buildings being closed, we roamed freely about the  Penitentiary, the Church, Hospital and various other ruins. The grounds of the precinct are beautifully kept and seem so peaceful. It was one of the highlights of the trip so far.  We stayed for almost three hours and really only left because we were getting hungry.  

Back at camp,  we made our usual “bush" meal of pasta/noodles/toast/salad/baked beans and then discovered the portaloo was out of order. The boys were happy to make do with a bush, but Georgia and I insisted on driving into town to the public conveniences across the road from the bakery.  We took it all in our stride.

Andrew had been bursting to see a Tassie Devil since we arrived. There was a documentary about the devils on the ferry across Bass strait and he seems to be quite taken with them.  The Unzoo at Taranna (about half way between Dunally and Port Arthur) seemed like the perfect spot to see the Devils up close so we planned a stop there first.  We encountered, quolls, cape baron geese, Forrester kangaroos, Bennets wallabies, green rosellas, pademelons and black yellowtail cockatoos  - all native to Tasmania.  But the star of the show was “Chomper” the 4 year old Tassie Devil.   I have really taken an interest in the birdlife of southern Australia and one of my favourites is the delicate little Superb Fairy Wren. To my delight we saw plenty of those hopping about also. After about 3 hours, we decided to head on to Port Arthur.

Our second afternoon there was equally as lovely as the first. We went on a little cruise about the actual port and saw a couple of very entertaining plays performed by a few local talents depicting convict life and times.  Several of the building that were closed the previous evening were explored including the Asylum, the Commandants residence and the Medical officers’ quarters.  It was another magical afternoon and we left knowing that it was yet another highlight of this never ending journey.

Both Rod and I commented on how, despite the cruel and brutal treatment of the convicts, there did seem to be a deliberate strategy to reform, educate and the release the poor souls. It was not just free labour to be endlessly exploited.

A second night behind the pub afforded no relief in the portaloo area. Georgia and I went off down to the public toilets once more ( the boys came this time) and we scratched up another meal from the pantry. I was getting nervous regarding the gas. My calculations reckoned we had very little left and if we ran out, life would get very awkward. Fortunately, our luck with good weather extended to the gas bottle also. We made it through the evening with a functioning fridge, lights and an edible meal. 

I am getting sick of the food.  It’s great having fruit stalls and fresh oysters on hand, but I would really love a homemade lasagna or a roast dinner ( NOT from a RSL) . I did a passable green chicken curry, but it was such a performance that I was too exhausted to enjoy it. I am starting to make a list of dishes that I will cook when I get home to my kitchen and pantry.

But not before we conquer the East Coast.  Freycinet, here we come.