Seven Days with Favourite Daughter and Son-in-Law

Port Arthur family time.

The Pyromaniac's favourite occupation.

Dave in Seventh Heaven.

This is why we love them.

The Dog Line at Eaglehawk Neck designed to stop escapes from Port Arthur

This is just the start of the cold weather - thanks guys!

Dave's panorama of the Enchanted Forest

Don't stand between Katrina and a fire

Fantastic photo of the Blowhole, Bicheno.  Ray wishes he'd taken it!

This is Katrina's grumpy face at not being able to climb Cradle Mountain, and all because it was suggested that zero degrees and 30 knot winds and rain were not ideal conditions for climbing to the top of the mountain (a 5-hour walk). Our beautiful girl said it wouldn't take her 5 hours anyway - her challenge would be to do it in 3.  Sanity prevailed.

Ross Bridge, Tasmania's oldest, and Favourite Son-in-Law.

It’s been over a week since we farewelled Katrina and Dave after their short holiday in the van with us.  They had both competed in the Canberra Marathon and Half Marathon on the weekend of 15/16 March and then jetted off to Hobart to join us for a 7-day (actually 5-day when you take one day in and one day out) trek around Tasmania.  We estimate that we covered approximately 900 kilometres in that time, travelling from Port Arthur to Cradle Mountain via the east coast.

Having taken our 4 ½ ton van up and down Mt Wellington while Ingrid was with us, we decided to cheat and hire a small car to show our guests Hobart from Mt Wellington.  It’s only 20 kilometres from Hobart CBD to the top of the mountain, but the road is narrow and steep in places so we were much more comfortable (especially coming down) in the car than the motorhome!  What’s more, parking it near the Hobart waterfront was a sight easier than the van as well, so we walked around Salamanca Place and Constitution Dock before settling down at Mures for some fresh seafood.

The next morning we set out early (for us) for Port Arthur, which was on the Request List, travelling via Dunalley and its great bakery.  We dropped Katrina and Dave at Port Arthur and set up for the day in the peaceful campground only a few kilometres away, preparing to up sticks and pick up our guests when they rang at the end of the day.  However, they surprised us late in the afternoon, finding their own way back to the campground on foot and we all settled down to a roaring fire and Tasmanian wines and food.  The campground comes alive at night with wallabies and potoroos, and with blue-winged parrots and currawongs visiting for nuts late in the day.  It was noticeably cooler that night than it had been on our last visit, although we still sat outside till late in the night, enjoying our fire.

Bicheno was next on the list, 220 kilometres north of the Tasman Peninsula along the Tasman Highway (not).  We called in at Triabunna for a look-see across at Maria Island and the interesting maritime memorial on the waterfront.  The next decision was whether or not to drive to Freycinet for the walk to Wine Glass Bay, but with time being short, and having already spent enough time driving that day, the decision was to leave Wineglass Bay for another visit, so we drove on via Swansea and the great Barkmill Bakery (more pies!) to Bicheno.  There’s a great little campground there within walking distance of the Bakery/Ristorante/Ice Cream Shop/Providores, so we set up camp there for the night.  As well, we drove via The Gulch, Bicheno’s beautiful sheltered harbour, to the Blowhole (see Dave’s great picture), stopping off at the crayfisherman’s lair to order a fresh lobster for dinner.  Certainly sir, just go and amuse yourselves for 45 minutes and it’ll be cooked, cleaned and ready to eat!  Again, see photo of Dave enjoying said lobster!

Katrina and I did a quick walk late in the afternoon up to Whaler’s Lookout on a nearby hill, which gives a wonderful view up and down the coast, and the next morning she and Dave left the old people sleeping and walked the coastal path, stopping at the Bakery for coffee on the way back (without us, I might add!)  It says much for Bicheno that our guests fell in love with the place, despite not having seen it at its sparkling best, as we have.  The town was named after James Ebenezer Bicheno, the British Colonial Secretary for Van Diemen’s Land from 1843 to 1851.  However, not everything in Tasmania was named after the English (or the French); Waub’s Bay commemorates a local aboriginal woman (Wauba Debar) who was stolen from her tribe as a teenager to become a “sealer’s woman”.  Her bravery in rescuing two sealers in a storm is commemorated by a headstone above Waub’s Bay, the only aboriginal woman to be so honoured.

Leaving Bicheno early-ish the next morning, we travelled via Perth (no not WA), Longford, Campbell Town and Sheffield and then the long and winding mountain road via Gowrie Park (Prettiest Daughter will remember it well) to Cradle Mountain, where we had booked a site at the Discovery Park for 2 nights.  The camping ground there is well set out with each area being surrounded by trees, and a with a large and well equipped camp kitchen close by.  We were very glad of the kitchen and its 2 roaring log fires as we had intermittent rain for the time we were there.  We persuaded Dave and Katrina to hop the commuter bus down to the Cradle Mountain car park just for an orientation trip, as it was too late  (and too cold and rainy) to do any long walks that day.  They were the only ones on the bus, and having promised Katrina wombats, what did she see on that trip, but her first wombat, wandering across the road and holding up the bus!  They did a short walk and returned in time for dinner and communion with other walkers/families in the kitchen that night. 

Unfortunately for Katrina there was to be no walk to the top of Cradle Mountain the next day.  It was bitterly cold and with intermittent rain, so after a satisfying cooked breakfast (thanks Dave), we all set out on the National Parks bus to Ronnies Car Park, and walked the 6 kilometres or so back to the Ranger’s Hut.  It rained on and off for most of the walk, but at we were rewarded at the end of the walk with a sighting of another wombat, so it wasn’t a wasted day.  (See Dave’s wonderful panorama of one of the magic areas we walked through that day).

Our last day was spent mostly covering ground back from Cradle Mountain to Hobart, but with stops along the way to see Oatlands, the Ross Bridge (Dave’s photo once again), ending up for our last night at Treasure Island Caravan Park, just opposite MONA in Berriedale.  Our last meal together was at our favourite Mezethes Greek Restaurant at Salamanca Place.

I estimate we covered around 900 kilometres in the 5/7 days Katrina and Dave were with us, and despite 4 of us living and sleeping in our van, I don’t remember a cross word!  (Ed: Ray did put the wind up Dave a little by going the wrong way round a roundabout in Hobart but it was only a small one and  no one took a picture so Ray says it never happened.)  I’m sure our guests were delighted to be back in their own comfortable bed in Brisbane, but it was great to have them with us, and to be able to share some of our Tasmanian experiences.

Flinders Island Adventure (and a little History)

Our second night's camp - right by the water at Lady Barron

Wild surf at North East River, with a lonely Pacific Gull.

Surf at North East River - just a few of the dozens of Sooty Oystercatchers; we've never seen more than 3 or 4 together!

Strzelecki Peaks, across farmland, typical of the lowlands.

Just 2 of the appealing Bennett's wallabies at Patriarch's Sanctuary.

This is what the local lads do on Saturday night.  We found out that the car(s) - there were 2, had been there through 2 tides already!

Farmland, complete with contented cows, with Strzelecki in the background.

A lucky orphaned baby Pademelon, being hand fed by a wildlife carer.

Camper's Beach (our favourite) at low tide.  Believe it or not, we went swimming at high, cold water and all.

Another view of Camper's Beach, with Trouser's Beach and the southern end of Strzelecki Peaks in the background.

One of the reasons we didn't get to the top!

Our last navigation point - it was all uphill over boulders from here.

A magnificent view of Fotheringate Bay from the first lookout point up Strzelecki.

Sadly, our last evening at Flinders.

Firstly, a little history.  The Furneaux group of more than 50 named and unnamed islands is situated at the eastern end of Bass Strait, off the north east of Tasmania.  Flinders, Cape Barren and Clarke are the 3 largest and the only inhabited islands of the group, situated in the middle of the “Roaring Forties”.  Flinders is part of the ancient land bridge which once linked SE Victoria with NE Tasmania, and has an area of approximately 137,430 hectares.

The area was named Furneaux by Captain Cook, as a tribute to Captain Tobias Furneaux, who accompanied Cook on his second voyage, 1772-74.  Originally called Great Island, it was renamed by Governor King in honour of Matthew Flinders, the great navigator, explorer and cartographer extraordinaire.

The capital(?) Whitemark, (White Mark) originated in 1886, after a “white mark” survey peg was placed there.  It was renamed Whitemark when telegrams cost per word, so White Mark (2 words) became Whitemark (1 and therefore cheaper).  The airport has a daily service from Melbourne and Launceston, with a freighter arriving in Lady Barron from Bridport once a week.  There is no public transport on the island, other than a couple of taxis (and our trusty little hippie van).

The second village/town, Lady Barron, is 28 km South of Whitemark, and contains the jetty and harbour.  It was named in 1911 after the wife of Sir Harry Barron, Governor of Tasmania, who, when asked to suggest a name for the town said “It would be nice if you called after my Lady” – and so it was.

Strzelecki Peaks, the largest “mountains” on the island, were named for Paul Edmund Strzelecki, a Polish explorer and scientist, who climbed them in 1842.  At 756 metres above sea level, with a walking track (to our eyes almost straight up), we were pleased to have made it to 480 metres, with the last 276 metres seemingly straight up over large boulders.  We have enormous admiration for his athleticism, and fortitude, having tried, and failed, to climb to the top on a well-made track. 

Furneaux Museum, at Emita (meaning “Sand”), which is staffed entirely by volunteers, (founded 1964), had lots of interest.  The day we visited we met Artie Withers, an island “original” who had lots of wonderful stories to tell us about island life, and who joined us afterwards at The Patriarchs Sanctuary (he was one of the founders of the Museum) for wine and sausage sangers.  It was a privilege to meet him, and we will long remember our time with him, and his interesting stories

Flinders is a step back in time, and with all stores closing at noon on Saturday (and all day Sunday), it behooves one to fill the car with petrol, and shop for the essentials before that time.  Of course, with most supplies landing by barge on Tuesday, and in the shops Wednesday, then by Saturday, the best of everything is gone.  We tried for some more meat Saturday morning (sorry the Butcher is closed) and all that was available was sausages, mince and some wallaby (not roadkill), and not much of any of those!

One story I couldn’t resist sharing is from 'Flinders Island' by Jean Edgecombe on Communication (of which there was very little, even during our 10 days).

“During the 1914/18 War, when the Islanders became desperate for news, someone would pass a hat round at the pub for donations and ‘young’ Leedham Walker, would ride to the Wireless Station and send a telegram to the Launceston Examiner “Please send thirty shillings worth of war news”.  The editor sent off the most interesting items in Morse.  When decoded they were put on the hotel notice board and Walkers’ shop window for all to see.  After telephones were connected in 1917, the officer on duty phoned war news every day to subscribers”.

There are lots of animals on the island: Bennett’s wallabies, potoroos, pademelons, possums, wombats and echidnas.  There seem to be a huge number of dead wallabies (and, sorry to say Katrina and Ingrid, wombats) by the side of the road, which indicates, perhaps, that there are myriads more still alive in the bush.  A wildlife carer we met at Trousers Point (see photo) says she checks each dead wallaby by the side of the road, and finds the occasional orphaned joey, which she then takes care of until such time as it is old enough to liberate.

So I’ve filled a blog with some of the history of the island without saying a word about our 10 days there in our little rented van.  Suffice to say that it’s an island without peer for scenery, with each little road leading to a magnificent, deserted beach or headland.  In 10 days we shared our island Paradise with no-one and spent 10 days and nights camping out under beautiful blue skies (alright, we did have 1 night of rain) and unbelievable bright stars at night.  It’s almost impossible to convey the beauty of the island but it’s a holiday we will both long treasure.