Beaconsfield & our Last Days in Tassie.

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 10^th 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 !

Bay of Fires - Launceston

Apparently over 700ml of rain fell our second night at Swansea. I think I was awake for about 600ml of it, checking for leaks, adjusting the guy ropes and trying to calculate how long it would take to dry the bed ends so we could move in the morning. The good news is that the Jayco is still watertight.

By 5:30 am however, it was clear that we should not pack up. If the bed ends are wet when you wind down, then the mattresses get wet.  It threw a bit of a spanner into the works as we had hoped to continue up the east coast and then turn inland toward our final destination, Launceston and the Tamar valley. Not to be deterred, we decided to explore the east coast sans the Jayco and simply double back to spend a further night at Swansea. Extra mileage, but we have lost count as it is.

Even though the rain was still hammering down, the forecast was hopeful.  By the time we reached St Helens, things had brightened and we ventured into the Bay of Fires. I really liked that area. The kids had a grand time climbing about on the orange lichen covered  granite rocks. When the sun eventually broke through, the water sparkled a clear icy blue. The gusts left over from the previous evening threw up impressive waves that trailed dense sea mist and then curled onto the rocks. The granite has very high quartzite content, resulting in brilliant white sand. The colour of the the rocks, water and sand cut a very striking scene. 

Not content with a simple seaside jaunt, we pushed inland to St Columbia falls. Given the rain, we hoped for a thunderous response.  St Columbia obliged in spades; one could hardly approach the viewing platform without getting hosed down. Apparently it was not much more that a dribble a few weeks back. 

  Further inland is the Weldborough forest walk. It is just off the main road and takes about 15 minutes to walk a circuit track surrounded by huge tree ferns and Myrtle trees.  These trees are ancient – estimates vary, but they are measured in hundreds or sometimes thousands of years.

After the forest walk, we turned around and made the long journey back to where we started the day, via Bicheno for a really well earned pizza.  One of the best seafood pizzas I've had, largely because it was covered knee high in prawns, oysters, scallops and calamari.  Nothing more annoying than a seafood pizza having three prawns and a dusting a seafood extender thrown at it.

The day was not over yet. Swansea had mustered up cyclonic winds in our absence. Fortunately, a fellow camper had kindly re-pegged our flys lest they escaped. So Rod and I ended our day double roping everything and then putting dirty great boulders on the pegs to ensure we didn’t whirl off during the night.

Tasmania has tried to freeze us, drown us and now it wants to blow us back to the mainland.  Do your worst Tassie, we are not finished with you yet !

The next day dawned bright and clear, so we packed and escaped as quickly as humanly possible.  The plan was to head to Launceston, but we had a choice of routes, both of which we had travelled at least part of previously. We chose the one less travelled, via Ledgerwood, on the advice of a couple of fellow travellers. This small town surrendered half a dozen of their finest men to World War 1 and in memory  the township planted a row of trees in 1915 or so.  The trees were deteriorating by the early part of this century and the decision was made to use them for carvings. The result is a moving reminder of one towns reverence for their sacrifice.

A liitle further down the road we stopped for lunch at Scottsdale. How were we to know that our local cafe in Beecroft has a franchise there ??

Our plan was to camp at a free rest area outside a little place called Lilydale. We arrived but didn’t feel quite right about it. It is always best to trust one’s instincts in this matter, so we ended up at a van park near Launceston. The weather was holding, so after setting up (team Burton is getting rather efficient at the whole process) we turned about to discover Cataract Gorge. 

The Gorge is the local natural wonder and is a stunning piece of riverscape close to a major centre. The gorge was dammed upstream in the 1950’s and so the water level is lower than it once was. Mother Nature has the last laugh of course, and floods the basin with fond regularity, at times rather severely.  When the basin is not in deluge, it proves a beautiful tranquil reserve for the locals and tourists. It is also home to peacocks (descendants of a pair shipped in to make the place more “exotic”), wallaby, potoroo and at least one big fat seal. The seal seemed rather out of place, but there it lay sunning itself on a rock ledge.

That night we enjoyed the luxury of a camp kitchen, so treated ourselves to… a BBQ and salad.  We ate alfresco and enjoyed a gorgeous summer evening, knowing that the weather could turn any minute.......

Freycinet

So we left Dunally and headed north to the Freycinet national park. Instead of heading straight up the east coast, we were advised to head a little west up the Midlands highway that connected Hobart and Launceston and visit a number of historic towns just off the highway. So this is what we did.

We stopped at the town of Oatlands that looked interesting. It had its fair share of historic buildings and made a big deal about its dry stone walls. Instead of wood, fences were pieced together from stones without concrete mix. Reading about these creations, apparently it was the women of the town who were the architects, as it was said “men do not have the patience for such things”. So there you go. The other big thing Oatlands spruiked was a giant flour mill that was the only one of its kind in operation in the southern hemisphere.  The guy helping us at the visitors information centre came from Bankstown Sydney continuing our trend of meeting people originally from Sydney who have moved to other regions.

Fiona and Andrew standing in front of the female created dry stone fences 

We then moved on and lunched at the lovely and very pretty tree lined town of Ross.  Fiona and I had scallop pies and they were mouth-watering, fantastic, delicious. Then from the same bakery, the kids had the best wagon wheel biscuits I have ever seen, thick strawberry marshmallow, thick jam, milk chocolate coated biscuit. Sensational! We have commissioned Fiona when we get home to make some for us. Fiona said she might ask Jodie Aiken to help her as she makes better marshmallows. It was not all about food at Ross. They had some interesting stone buildings and antique stores, one of which the owner was originally from Manly.

 I love this bakery in Ross

After some advice from the local visitors centre, we heading north to Cambell Town, saw some interesting wooden carvings from trees and then heading east back to the east coast to the town of Swansea, which looked directly across to Freycinet national park. We stayed at a backpackers camp which had very good amenities. After dinner we headed out into town to check it out. It is a small but pretty town.

Wood carvings from trees at Cambell Town

east coast of Tassie

Swansea coast line with Freycinet in the background

The next morning we headed out early for Freycinet national park as the weather forecast was for a cloudy day with rain developing. We arrived and without delay did the Wineglass Bay lookout walk. It was interesting, I don’t know whether it was because it was a cloudy day or we knew what we were going to see, but when we arrived at Wineglass Bay, Fiona and I were slightly disappointed/underwhelmed at what we saw. If we had never seen or heard of Wineglass Bay, I think we would have thought “ oh that’s a nice lookout” and nothing more. However, while there, there were people from all over the world at the lookout. Wonder what they thought. We did a few other walks in the national park, but I am afraid when I consider some of the national parks we have already visited,  Freycinet does not compare favourably and will not make it to my Tasmanian Podium Finishes blog. 

We left and had a quick look at Bicheno before heading back to Swansea.

Fortunately we had planned a quiet afternoon and evening back at camp, as we were quite jaded because the weather really set in. For the first time in 2.5 months, we had a blast of raining weather that afternoon and evening.

Next stop St Helens and the Bay of Fires

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.

3 days in Hobart

Wednesday morning dawned sunny and warm. The forecast was good so we quickly drove to Mt Wellington while you could see it. The locals have a saying: “if you can see Mt Wellington, it is going to rain. If you can’t see My Wellington, it is already raining”. It was a splendid view at 1200 meters. The drive up is narrow and we had to content with mobs of tourists. Not only are we in peak season, the Dawn Princess cruise liner had berthed in town and her contents was now spilling all over the summit.  The wind was ripping through my ears, so I took refuge in a lovely glass viewing area. I did not want to leave.  

After many photo's, we ventured down and north east back to Hobart’s city centre.  We found street parking a few blocks from Salamanca Square and Constitution dock.  A local was complaining about the price of the parking metres in the city centre “$5 for 3 hours!!” We just smiled.  Our number plates mark us as “mainlanders”.  

Salamanca has a distinctive “Rocks” feel and the wharf and docks feel similar to Circular Quay – just smaller and cleaner. Our family are not big foodies, but we did manage to whittle away half an hour  in a fab book shop ( speaking of which – I am now reading a John Grisham – HELP -  I may even reconsider Jane Austen!) and find a bakery for lunch. Coffee was 8/10 – not bad.  We strolled in the sunshine and saw the Yacht race finish line and Constitution Dock but alas were about 8 days too late to see any of the vessels. Apart from a dirty great Cruise ship.

The CBD was not so inspiring.  Rod expected some great architecture given that this is one of our earliest settled capitals, but it looks pretty generic. Later we did get around to Battery Point and see some very quaint cottages.  We decided to head back to camp as the previous day had really taken its toll but not before we made a trip to Richmond, home of Australia's oldest bridge ( still in use, that is). 

Once back home, I ended up chatting with the neighbours from Latrobe ( TAS, not VIC) for ages and forgot to cook dinner. Everyone seemed to find something in the cupboard and didn’t complain too much. I will have to try that again.

Thursday was miserable weather. It had been forecast so I had decided to go to MONA.  We could walk there from the Van Park, it’s just next door. Or we could get a helicopter – I’m serious. The blessed things kept landing and taking off ferrying those with more money than sense. I have no idea why you would take a helicopter because it is about a 15 minute drive from the city or you can catch a ferry.  As it turned out we drove due to weather being so dodgy.  

MONA was a bit boring.  I have heard so much about this place and was so looking forward to it. Perhaps it was over-hyped, but sorry guys – just not that interesting.  To be fair, it was very crowded and the staff was madly trying to organise flows of people from the entrance into the single staircase down to the bottom floor.   At that point they handed us iPhones. For anyone who knows me, I have a philosophical issue with Apple products and prefer not to fiddle to Steve Jobs tune.  I was forced to use it as there is no other way to garner any information about the Art works or their creators.  Hmmmmm………. how very Apple .

 The first exhibition was from a guy called Matthew Barney. He is a film maker and producer of “alternative” opera. He has put together an installation based on Norman Mailers book “Ancient Evenings” and called it “River of Fundament”.  It’s OK, but I think he should stick to films and opera. There was a really interesting piece from Japan documenting the history of Hiroshima, a fun piece composed of 26 screens showing  individual Madonna fans singing the entire “Immaculate” album and a handful of others that I really enjoyed.  Ask the kids about the “poo machine”. I thought it was very clever and showed great technical expertise. Rod thought it stunk – I mean, it really did smell bad. I also saw a good dose of lazy and predictable work, flimsy on creativity, inspiration or even beauty.  I may have enjoyed the “Death cinema”, however the “cinema” only seated two people per viewing and the “film” lasted for 4.5 minutes. A quick calculation on the crowd queueing outside reckoned we would wait about two hours to see it.

In MONA’s defence, the weather turned nasty and we did not roam the grounds, so probably missed a few things.  One floor was largely vacant; a new exhibition is going in and will be open next week. Good luck with that.  We considered going back the next day when the weather was better but really couldn’t be bothered.  Glad I didn’t take a helicopter.

The next day was Bruny Island day. We hoped to take the boat explorer around the southern part of the coast. It is not accessible by car and features some stunning shorelines and an abundance of wildlife.  Alas it was completely booked out – one of the hazards of travelling without a fixed itinerary is that we don’t know where we will be until a few days beforehand. Despite this, we drove 40min south west of Hobart and took the vehicular ferry across to the island. 

We stopped at the Quarantine station. It was founded after an outbreak of smallpox in the late 1800’s and remained operational until 1986.  It has been used to inter Germans during WW1 and saw its peak afterwards quarantining returning diggers at the time of the Spanish Flu pandemic. We met another new best friend, Martin the caretaker, on vocational internship from UQ.

A drive around the dirt roads on the northern part of the island uncovered some pretty coves and beaches and a Cheese factory. Again, it was crowded, so we only got to try one cheese, something called “tom”. No one liked it, so we left. 

North and South Bruny are connected by an isthmus. Right in the middle is a lookout, the islands highest point. It afforded us lovely views in all directions. 

After that we ventured south to the Bruney Island berry farm. You can pick your own berries here, but since I am the only one who eats them, we decided to have lunch instead.  I was fortunate enough to have a very kind lady approach us at Rocky Cape with a huge bucket of raspberries. Her husband had picked them that morning and she was giving them away – I helped lighten her load. Delicious.

It’s probably a good time to also confess that I have been hitting the cherry and apricot stalls. Again, no one else is keen on them so I get the lot. The cherries are sublime.

We noodled around the island some more and then it was time to get the ferry back . We pondered what Bruny Islanders call Tasmanians, if the Tasmanians call us mainlanders? The trip back to Hobart was a scenic one, taking in the Huon Valley and a number of sweet towns, one called Cygnet. Cygnet was hosting a Folk festival this weekend and we encountered a number of beatniks and young boys dressed in tuxedo’s. Still wondering about that one.

We drive to Port Arthur tomorrow to continue our adventure.  Not  long till it’s over, so we will see you all again soon. Then I can really tell you what I think about MONA.