Farewell

All good things must come to an end; A final report on Sydney to follow, but here's Paul and I on our very last day, looking away from the harbour and into the future-and the long, long journey home awaiting ahead of us!

Canberra

Canberra

As Victoria vanished, leaving behind the Snowy Mountains, and with the ‘alpine’ resorts framing our drive, we dropped into NSW and Canberra; what a contrast to the day before.

Modern purpose built wide streets, tree lined roads, the centre dominated by the War Memorial at one end and the Parliament House at the other (in a direct axis), this ‘New’ town was such a stark contrast to small town Australia we’d driven through, with their identikit main streets passing in moments before the road once more disappears into the landscape.

Canberra made another piece of the complex jigsaw of Oz click into place, from the cosmopolitan buzz of Sydney, the mellow medley of Melbourne, the crashing surf and stunning rocks of the Ocean Road, the Englishness of villages and towns, the sense of history embedded not in the culture but in the land itself, and now a man-made town reflecting contemporary Australia.

Our lake side hotel has a lake view, and we were in time for a splendid evening sunrise over the waters of Lake Burley Griffin. Our stroll down to the lakes edge for a floodlit view of the water’s skyline dominated by the Carillon Bells tower looming in the middle and framed by grandiose national buildings over the other.

The next day we walked from top to bottom of the glorious axis, from Parliament House down over the lake to the Australian War Memorial opposite. The walk drops down past the old Parliament House, where the Tent Embassy set up forty years ago still flourishes –a telling reminder of the ever present racial tension and conflict, despite the apparent integration.

This integration is nowhere more on show than in the amazing Art Gallery and National Portrait Gallery, where I was once again absorbed in floors of indigenous art, this time even more fascinating as the artists own life histories were woven into the accompanying story boards.

The National Museum of Australia, coming as it did at the end of my stay, proved invaluable in tying up many loose ends in my sense of this complex country, I’m ashamed of my ignorance in terms of its history, both land and people. Interestingly, despite the presence and celebration of indigenous art in the galleries, the national museum centres on colonialisation and beyond, and although full of  accounts of European immigration and settlement, the country’s history prior to the 1700s centred on the environmental rather than cultural.

Contemporary Canberra’s highlight was Parliament House, topped with an 81 metre flagpole with an Australian flag bigger than a double-decker bus, where, despite the Federal Parliament being in situ, we were free to wander at will in the splendid marble and timber halls, admire the tapestry lined walls and the portraits of the great and the good., and to climb to the roof for panoramic Canberra views.

Yet again I was moved to tears by the closing ceremony at the cenotaph, the lone piper in the setting sun, playing as the doors close on the shrine for the night. Despite the crowds which gather every day, from old to young, there is a consensus of silence, a collective moment of remembrance and reflection.

And finally Paul and I had a meal out! The unadvertised renovations at the hotel were an unexpected alarm call each morning (why can carpenters throughout the world not tell the time, 9am start always translated to 8am in their watches?), but a polite moan to reception prompted a courtesy invite to dine in their restaurant.

Paul made up for his fast food forages by enjoying a massive seafood starter and an enormous steak, and I enjoyed half a goat’s cheese and a salmon steak bigger than the plate-more than made up for the hammering!

(Tis so expensive here though, the 150 dollar voucher we were given just covered this, and three beers, we couldn’t make it stretch to wine-that’s over £100 for a two course meal, and although this was a good restaurant, it was hardly a Michelin starred establishment!)

 View from Parliament House, down past old Parliament House up Anzac Ave (lined with war memorials) to the Shrine, courtesy of Annie's camera and Paul's photography skills!

Ballarat, Bendigo and Beyond

Ballarat, Bendigo and Beyond…

Car duly intact, we set off inland for the long haul back to NSW, and Canberra…the journey home to England is looming ever closer for me, and the weather has suddenly drawn in… a cold front blowing directly from the Antarctic heralds in the  Oz autumn and a reminder of my imminent return to colder climes.

Ballarat at first sight seemed enormous,  with sprawling suburbs and many MacDonalds, but the lake (once we’d found it!) provided welcome relief, just as the sun broke through the clouds. Once a deep flowing blue, the lake been ‘reduced’ by draught and draining to wetlands, so another familiar sight, algae and ducks, rather than black swans and surf!

The historic town centre was oddly enchanting. The ‘gold rush’ town buildings are quirkily different to the ‘usual’ colonial avenues, the legacy of banking, trading, and mine towers, complete with bells, plus miner’s memorials and histories lining the streets evoked a deep historical sensation.

The mixture of odd and new, as everywhere in Australia, continued  into the bizarre here, when we entered the massive MacDonald’s for a recuperative ice cream  and found ourselves sitting inside a renovated museum of the once enormous ‘Bakery’ on Bakery Hill, three floors complete with kilns/ovens/ etc-one of the weirder settings I’ve eaten ice cream in!

Ballarat art gallery proved as good as its reputation, the Australian art, featuring the usual Glover and Streeter showcase works, also showed much of Ballarat as it was during the gold rush, and told the moving history of the Euraka stockade-the original flag on show is movingly torn and bloodied-clearer in art than in words.

Arrived late at Bendigo, to find a very quaint motel, but alas also a very full and crowded one. Our downstairs tiny cubby-hole echoed all night with bumps/crashes/voices…Paul has spoilt me with more upmarket rooms since he came out, and I’m out of practise with the previously acquired hostel ‘deafness’.

On the plus side, the motel was right in the historic centre of Bendigo, another gold rush town with a fascinating history, and another excellent art gallery. The Grace Kelly exhibition is a crowd puller, so I avoided that and spent another absorbing hour in the aboriginal and contemporary sections here, wandering all alone minus a sound musing the works whilst Paul took himself off around the gardens to watch the parrots and bats which abound here.

This town is full of quirky shops, fountains and sculptures, plus the usual botanic gardens, and we wandered the lanes among the requisite churches and spires, mining towers, bells and monuments before embarking on the four hour drive across Victoria to NSW and Albury lake (gave me a chance to catch up on ‘The Archers’ podcast Paul has kindly provided…I reckon I’m only about 6 weeks behind now).

Tonight we’re at Lake Hume, staying in a resort overlooking the water and the ‘mountains’ (genuinely called the Alpine Resorts) behind, and we spent an interesting/adventurous evening clambering around the lakefront, getting lost, and as dark fell, increasingly going round in circles-at one point we could see the hotel so clearly we could have touched it but couldn’t find our way out of the woodland or beach…poor Paul was keen to find some supper, he thought he’d have to swim out, catch a fish and eat it raw…

Even when the scenery seems tame, odd touches like kangaroos jumping past in the rest stop by the highway, cockatoos catching the crumbs, and the diverse greens of the numerous gum and pine trees remind that this isn’t England-its become home to me now so I’ll see 'real' home with new eyes when I return.

Great Ocean ‘Road trip’ continued…

Wednesday

Left Lorne with a real sense of regret, Paul and I had loved this quaint seaside town, with its historic pier, quirky shops and wonderful beaches/walks, seemingly untouched by the tourists pouring along the Ocean Road above it.

A flat tyre brought us to an abrupt stop earlier than planned, just as the rain fell, poor Paul donned his Mac and his mechanical skills, whilst I found the shipwreck plaques and wrecks which litter the road/beach and read about the many lost at sea along this coast…..

The drive continued along the winding, twisting cliff top road through valleys, rainforest, stunning views opening up over crashing surf and calm golden bays, until we turned in to the Kennet river to see the koalas, so cute and so tame, I wanted to take one (or two) home! Luckily there were few people around and many koalas, sleeping high in the gum trees or feeding at eye level in the hedges…one even tried to reach out and feed from me, she was so close, (do I look like a eucalyptus??).

More koalas lay in wait along the off-road turn to Cape Today, watching us as we drove past, down to the lighthouse and back –with comers shoot breaks enroute!

The splendour of the Twelve Apostles (now 8) rock formations took us both by surprise, after the relatively gentle stretch along farmsteads and rolling hills beforehand. The mid afternoon sun was right behind them, and not even the many people on the well trodden tourist lookout dimmed their glory.

But no people just round the corner at Loch Aird Gorge, and the fabulous Thunder Cave, where the sheer power of the water rushing into the cave is intimidating to watch (and deafening to listen to). Then a moving cemetery to those lost in the steamer shipwreck from the 1800s hidden in the bushes, and the sudden sight of stalagmites under the cliff just around the corner.

The setting sun over the Bay of Marty’s and the Bay of Islands was beautiful, the diverse colours of the rocks rising out of the white waters and the yellowing/orange and red cliffs behind.

And one final pleasure-a spa bath at the motel at Warrnambool, bliss!!

Thursday.

The beach with its miles of sand and surf kept us quiet for a few hours this morning whilst a garage ‘pit stop’re tyre limited our excursions, and then, post lunch we found the terrific Tower Hill reserve. Around every corner were Emus, Wallabies, Kangaroos, Koalas, and birds of every shape, colour and size, Enchiladas (which I’d seen in Taz and thought were big hedgehogs!)…the cameras have been put to good use, but just watching the wildlife in their natural habit was an experience I’ll never forget.

No one else was around, just miles of sacred tribal lands, forest, lakes, woodland-the reserve is in the land rimmed by an ancient volcano so even the rocks were spectacular, reds and blacks, and especially as the light drew in, there were so many kangaroos….we sat watching them graze as koalas watched us from the trees and emus crept in waiting for crumbs, magical.

A detour to Port Fairy to walk across to Griffith Island (had to be done) and see the mutton birds in the colony, and the small bush wallabies in the heathers-with the calm rivers framing one side, and then as you turn past the lighthouse, the superb surf for miles crashing from the ocean on the other.

Today I’ve seen the wildlife which defines Australia’s image, and they live up to their reputation.

‘Marvellous’ Melbourne *

(\*the nickmame during its turn of the century heyday)

Travelling down we had a glorious view of NSW as we drove across the state on Thursday (no koalas yet, despite many warning signs on the highway), the landscape reminded both of us of the Scottish lowlands.

We left Wagga Wagga disappearing under water again, and could see just how high the rivers were in the middle flood plains, as I type the west of the town is back under water. Luckily the old fashioned and very quaint motel we stayed in was in the East, and had been (so far) untouched by the wide spread floods here.

The Melbourne skyline rose out of the countryside in stark contrast, as did the traffic piling into it from all sides…thank god for our up to date gps, she’s been a godsend.

Being a Grand Prix weekend, the town is heaving, but luckily we booked so long ago we have a city centre spot, as our car was valeted off at vast cost to an underground car park somewhere  we went to admire the city skyline view from our 8^th floor window.

A relaxing spa /swim unstiffening our aching bones (5 hours in the car each day has taken its toll, we are getting old…) and as we left to wander around , a massive thunderstorm Thursday evening cleared the air (and the streets). So we walked around the city in our Macs, being British and undaunted by rain, watching lightening and getting our bearings…there is Grand Prix stalls and paraphernalia everywhere!

Friday:

Left Paul to wander around the Grand Prix stalls etc and I set off for the Queen Victoria Markets. Great fun, like an Oz version of Covent Garden/Borough Market but with the wholesale and local markets attached, its massive, hundreds of diverse stalls from the eclectic, retail, veg, pets, you name it you can buy it here.

I only bought a kilo of peaches for 50 cents, ate 4 and threw the rest away as too heavy to carry (see Sat!).

I’m a great fan of Oz fruit, so plentiful, varied and very cheap everywhere-Paul has already eaten his normal annual quota.

The state library has a superb exhibition of ‘Love and Devotion from Persia and beyond’ a collection including earliest illuminated manuscripts from the Bodleian library in Oxford. It took me hours to peer a the intricate detail of the manuscripts and the heritage-there was Chaucer, Shakespeare et al repeating the classic tales passed down from Persia, fascinating (even Eric Clapton’s Layla stems from here). The complex ink/paint/embellishments from centuries ago on fragile materials were so tiny the library provided hand held magnifiers. It was brilliant, I loved it.

I had an emotive session at St Francis Church, the oldest Catholic Church in Victoria-this country has some stunning churches of every type/shape/age (Paul and I both adored the modern new build in Parametta, arising out of the flames of the historic building in a contemporary silver and gold metal design, much unexpected). I found myself in the Lady Chapel in time for rosary and drawn to join in –legacy of a religious childhood.

Later Paul and I wandered around the Botanical Gardens, Paul taking in the difference-ness of trees and plant life of Australia, past the tomb of the shrine of Remembrance, and then along the city river bank-the Yarra through Melbourne echoes the Thames through London, even down to the revived paths and harbours.

As night fell we found the ‘Lanes’, a bizarre, eclectic mix of old and new alleyways and arcades which intersect the main streets of this tree lined city. The classical Block and Royal Arcades, built for Edwardian ladies to parade along, with their glass domed ceilings. Tiled arches and mosaic floors are the most famous, but I loved the café lined alleyways and the urban lanes and thirties arcades. There is much urban art everywhere here superb sculptures line the streets and squares.

Saturday

We began today by admiring the Royal Exhibition Buildings, Crystal Palace by any other name, and through the city parks to Q Vic markets for massive shopping forage-we now have enough fruit to start a grocers shop!

Post delicious picnic, we set off in the beautiful sunshine to see the city in the sun, as the clouds have cleared and it’s a gorgeous day. The architecture here is fascinating, glass skyscrapers between colonial buildings, much twenties and thirties buildings, and spectacular and colourful contemporary architecture such as Federation Square.

Paul ‘had’ to stay in the city’s designed ‘Grand Prix’ square to watch the qualifying on the massive screen there! This evening we walked around China Town staring at the miles of oriental food stalls/restaurants/shops/etc crowded among and underneath the historical colonial buildings –very odd-look up, its old western skyline, look straight and you’re in the East…

Sunday

Mothering Sunday in the UK, so lovely to have cards to open here as I’d completely forgotten, and was very touched-thanks folks!!

Paul had a brilliant day at the grand prix!!

And I had a fantastic day at the Art Galleries-the Ian Potter Contemporary, the Museum of Moving Image for the history of Oz TV, the absorbing collection at the NG of V, and the Shrine of Remembrance-where I watched the flypast for the Grand Prix and could look down over the track, albeit in the distance…

I’m getting used to the shape and form of tribal art now, the story patterns and traditions are making sense, I recognise consistent themes, tropes and motifs; it’s transformed the canvases from what seem vibrant and complex colourful ‘mosaics’ into myths and legends, told not through recognisable images/word but through shape and form, it’s a very different art taken from emotional awareness rather than cognitive senses complex and fascinating.

I ended by walking the Fitzroy/Treasury parks, past Cooks Cottage, an ancient Scarred Tree dating from aboriginal times, (so called as its criss crossed deep scars date from its use for sharpening spears, etc) and then down Colllins Street, Flinders Lane and other key historic streets of the brilliant city, watching the sun setting over the river, the view a weird mixture of glow through the skyscrapers and shadows over the verandas, urban art sculptures contrasting with leafy avenues and blooming gardens.

The Great Ocean Road: St Kilda to Lorne

Monday

Monday and down to St Kilda and the beaches first, before setting out on the road. This is the part of Melbourne we had yet to see, and the weather today is 27 and gorgeous, the perfect beach day.

Walked along the south Melbourne beaches first and then along to St Kilda pier, with its spectacular view of the city skyline…today the water was clear, calm and full of fish sparkling in the warm shallows.

St Kilda pier and Luna Park look just what they are, relics of the Edwardian glory days of this now touristy but still fun suburb-the beach, albeit tiny and not as integral to the city as Sydney beaches, still ‘rounded’ our sense of the Melbourne marvel.

Off to Lorne, our first stop of The Great Ocean Road, and, once past the ghastly hour of motorway around Port Philip, wonderful beaches dotted with small towns and hills with sudden winding bends through valleys and peaks-to me, suddenly transported back to Tasmania!

Lorne is fun-our motel room here is right on the front, but in the quiet, older part of the small town, and has a balcony overlooking the beach and the pier, a lovely treat on arrival, to sit in the warm sunshine and here the surf (luckily Paul has gone upmarket with the accom choices, not over the top but definitely not hostel territory, I like it!!)

Walked down the rocky outcrops to the historic pier and watched the sun go down over the hills, and then back in the increasing dark along the sandy beach bay, as the night sky filled with stars.

Tuesday at Lorne.

Drew the curtains to find the sun streaming through the windows and glinting off a bright blue sea, white surf waves breaking on the sands…fantastic way to start the day, sat eating our brekkie admiring the sunshine coast.

Wandered along in the sun and sand down the beach, taking in the weird rock formations, bizarre, strange shapes, planes of flat rocks lying between sandy stretches interspersed with protruding stones and (sharp) edges.

Through a tiny path under the ocean road –it really does tuck into the cliff face, and was suddenly right above us here-and up to Stony Creek, now dried and full of lilies in the rocky waterholes.

Back for lunch to enjoy our balcony, and people watching on the beaches below. The town suddenly full of travellers enjoying ice cream and picnics and dodging the cockatoos which swipe any food they can-they were swooping over our balcony, chasing off the colourful, but alas smaller, parrots.

Spoilt for choice with bush walks inland, in the national park, we went up to Erskine Falls, surprisingly as spectacular as falls in the Blue Mountains, and then off to find the trek to Cora Lynn Cascades. Again an unexpected delight, the ‘path’ curved down through tall eucalyptus and fern tunnels,  opening out through the cascades, this time flowing over exposed ledges and gullies framed by luxuriant ferns and mosses.

Then round the lookouts for a view from the cliff tops, watching the cars negotiate the steep bends on the road below and the sea breaking on the bays. Sat on the balcony with our coffee and biscuits taking in the peace of the now empty beach and breaking waves.  The sunset walk along to the pier was so peaceful, no one around but us and a few fishermen watching purple skies and birds swooping over the sea.

Blue Mountains

Blue Mountains

Left Sydney via Parmetta, to show dad this historic town as he’d only seen it from the ferry, and its old colonial/settlement houses.

Arrived at the appropriately named Three Sisters Motel, Katoomba, mid afternoon, to find this a wonderfully placed resort, walking distance to Echo Point, at the very heart of the canyon, and within a few minutes of the most spectacular views.

The Mountains are actually below the land, a very odd experience, looking across and down continually... that first day the valley and peaks glowed a dark blue (the mist haze, not always seen, we'd didn't see this again during our stay).

We walked to the Three Sisters rock formations and clambered along the walkways to peer over the edge, and then along to Katomba Falls, through the dusk, picking our way down through gullies and rocks.

 

On Tuesday we realised the full extent of the range, much of it has never been explored, looking across at peaks and mountains, down to rainforest and valley floors, as far as we could see.

Given the limited time, we opted for the National Pass trek from the conservation hut at Wentworth Falls, which dropped us down to rainforest and under waterfalls, along narrow rock steps, literally clambering along the cliff edge with rocks above us and the valley floor below.

It took us about 3 hours to hike the ‘walk’ –its mainly steps, our knees were knackered- ending up climbing up the Giant’s Stairwell (very long and steep!) underneath, through and up to the top of the Falls, water streaming down from a brilliant blue sky onto us as we pulled ourselves up the rock face.

I felt as if I'd spent the morning on a film set of 'Fern Gully'. The heat was extreme at the top of the cliffs, but then it was chilly below the edge, and with the freezing water drops continually raining down, I ended up really cold, much to dad's amusement-he's still adjusting and was a mit hot!

Post much need picnic, we walked the Gordon Falls to Leura Falls hike, which goes overland along the very cliff edge, peering down and out at diverse green forests/eucalyptus trees/ferns/ and stark rock faces, waterfalls at every turn.

 

In the evening we wandered down to Echo Point, and by chance saw the most brilliant sunset.

It’s rare that the sky is completely cloud free, and watching the golden orb disappear over a mountain, surrounded by an abundance of colourful, diverse, parrots and cockatoos, was magical.

The reflecting rays makes the area seem light long after it should be dark, I guess because it’s high,  the stars appear in a light blue sky above yet darkness falls over the mountains opposite.

We were sorry to leave on Tuesday, and had to have one last walk, along the cascades to Katoomba Falls and back, admiring the glints of early morning sunlight on wild flowers, trees, rocks etc, watching the mist clear from the valley below.

As I type we have driven over 5 hours to Wagga Wagga, luckily the east side which is not flooded/out of bounds, and are collapsed in the motel ready to complete the run to Melbourne tomorrow (another 5 hours).

The drive has been good though; it’s a picturesque countryside, farmsteads, forests, rolling hills and plateaus, straight across New South Wales.

Next stop Melbourne (and for dad, the Grand Prix on Sunday).

We’re looking forward to seeing the sights and sounds of another city/state, next update to follow whenever we surface again.

Thursday:

I arrved back in Sydney exhausted, flying over/through an horrendous storm.

Sydney had a months worth of rain in two hours, thunder/lighting, etc, and Quantas gave us a rollarcoaster trip over it (all other airlines cancelled!). Felt as if I'd been on the big dipper continually for hours when landed!!

It felt very odd to be in a city again after the 'tiny' town of Hobart and deserted Tasmania, the people, noise and traffic seems enormous.

I walked for miles Thursday night to re-oriantate myself, and found autumn had arrived here too, despite the storm passing and heat descending by the minute...nearly got locked in the Botanical Gardens as everything has switched to autumn opening hours, very confusing.

Sydney Sights

Paul has had a whirlwind tour of Sydney!

Having arrived very early Friday, very disorientated, poor soul, having left the UK winter on Wed am and got here to 26 degrees at 7am Friday, I took him out to Manly beaches for sun/sea/surf and Oz culture!

Needless to say, he loved it (and the weather) and in the evening I took him on the ferry from Circular Quays around to Darling Harbour to see the city scape at night, under the Harbour Bridge and by the Opera House as the sun was setting.

he loved the bats in the Botanical Gardens, and the beautiful flowers all in bloom after the grey winter.

Sat we went to Watsons Gap and walked the South Heads, weather still gorgeous, and back around the city at sunset, using our ferry passes to the full!

Sun we went inland via the ferry to Parametta, which he adored, esp the wonderful view of the city coming back into the harbour from the river rather than the sea, and then, of course, he had to see Bondi  beach-which is tiny compared to Manly, obviously, but still kitsch and fun. Walked the Bondi to Coogee coastal path watching the surf crashing on the cliffs, and dodging the spiders.

(and other tourists/sunday locals-Sydney is busier now than when I was here, but also cruise ships here and weekend traffic, so hard to be sure)

Glorious sunset over the beach watching surfers!

So now tis Monday morning and I am sitting in the hotel lobby with our luggage (now doubled in size) waiting for Paul to collect the hire car, then off to the Blue Mountains etc...the only time we stay anywhere for any length of time is in Melbourne, so correspondance may be limited for a while road trip in progress...............fingers crossed will be fun though, looking forward to seeing more of Australia!!

We've got a day or two back here before returning to the Uk on March 31st, so saving city walks for then, as its beach weather without a doubt here at the minute!

Hobart and farewell to Tasmania

Hobart has a saying that there can be four seasons of weather in one day, and it’s not a myth!

The winds are from the polar Antarctic this morning, its only about 17 and feels distinctly icy....but this afternoon is 23 plus again, as the wind swung round to blow from the desert in the west.

But it was weirdly fun to feel cold rather than warm for a change, and the autumn colours are fantastic-literally, in two weeks, the season switched here, so bizarre.

It's also much easier to see the spectacular bird life and wildlife without bright sunlight.

There are so many art galleries here, and I now understand why so much is wood based-. The trees here are so different to Europe, I'm continually amazed by the blue leaves of the gum trees, and diverse bark, plus so much is so old-I've seen what claims to be the oldest wisteria in the world-in bloom, and it’s massive, twisted, gnarled and snarled for miles.

The aboriginal art is in stark contrast, most of it telling intricate stories, and combined with the complex history of the country at every turn, I don't feel I've done more than scratch the surface of Tasmania.

One last walk along ‘urban bush’ up the mountainside, and back through the grand colonial homes and gardens of Sandy Bay, through Salamanca Arts district and beside the harbour, watching the hills turn purple in the setting sun.

I shall miss Tasmania, the lovely people, the bizarre contrasts in everything, scenery/weather/history, the polar links to the desert sands, hopefully I’ll return one day.

Here ends the first chapter of ‘Edwina’s Travel’s. The next section of the blog is under the subheading

‘Edwina and Paul’s Aussie Adventure’.

Tomorrow I return to Sydney and rendezvous with Paul for a three week road trip, Melbourne, Great Ocean Road, Canberra, etc.

I’ll continue to scribble the diary as we go; it’ll be a different kind of travel from now on, and I’m looking forward to it, the holiday part of this trip for me.

There will be more solo travels to come in the future though, of that I’m sure-not sure where or when, but there’s a whole wide world out there I can’t wait to explore!

For now, though, let the road trip commence………………………

Taz - North to South

 

Though, like everything in Tasmania , back to front to my way of thinking, weather-wise, as Launceston is hotter than Hobart , the temp drops by about 5 degrees during the trip.

 

So I made the most of the sunshine by popping up to seeing the monkeys in City Park and the renowned Design Centre, but finally had to get in the car. I left Launceston in brilliant sunshine, following the midland highway down the heart of the country. The major traffic is logging Lorries, massive trucks which scared the life out of me; given this are mainly one lane uneven road surfaces….

 

First stop Richmond , and for the first time I fully appreciated the beauty of the colonial legacy in the ‘villages’ which dot the country. It is, like Westbury et al, simply a tree lined road lined with classic architecture (now coffee shops, antique shops etc) and churches, with an arched stone bridge. Richmond Bridge is particularly beautiful, built by convicts, like so much of Tasmania ; it’s richly carved in sandstone.

 

Next stop was Oatlands, an echo of Richmond , but with the addition of a working flour mill and stunning wetlands. I’ve become fascinated with the horticulture of the country, the trees are so weird. The Huon Pine, the blue leaves of the Gum Tree, the black wood lining the swamps, and the black swans, which are everywhere.

 

 

                                                         the view from Richmond 

 

The middle of the country winds through rolling yellow hills, dotted with pine forests, and the mountains of east and west looming either side.

 

I had to trust the gps, but she didn’t let me down, as within ten miles of Hobart (there really are only 2 towns in Tas, north and south) traffic appears from nowhere, as do roads, suburbs, traffic lights, etc…panic! Luckily she got me and the car round numerous one way systems and into an underground car park-the right one!

 

Ah, the luxury,  bath/TV/kettle/towels/soap, etc, though needless to say despite sinking into bed with a sigh of relief, I slept badly for the first time for ages.

 

Monday

 

Autumn has arrived in Hobart . The leaves are in full  colour , reds and golds abound everywhere. The Botanical Gardens could be a different place, the Acers are every shade from pale pink to deep brown, the flowers, courtesy of rainfall, now in beautiful bloom, superb orchids.

The swift parrots are everywhere,  (endangered species, apparently.) and their bright plumage much easier to see without the bright sunshine, I look up expecting to see sparrows and instead a multi-coloured bird looks down!

There is a distinct nip in the air too, but luckily I had saved the art gallery trawl for my return. Salamanca ‘s galleries alone took 2 hours to explore, art of every description.

The low pressure storm across South Australia (causing massive floods ) has led to a P and O cruise liner to take shelter in Hobart , towering over the town. It’s become the main tourist attraction, and the wealthy tourist’s spending money in the galleries was almost as absorbing as the art works!

The well hidden Allsop museum has a great exhibition of tourism posters from the 1920s to 1950s,  from a campaign called ‘come to Tasmania -the Wonderland’, which was run by the Tasmanian Government at the time. Nowadays, as the librarian confirmed, it seems to me that the country undersells itself; I knew so little about it before I came and it is such a fantastic place.

Tamar Valley - A day of unexpected pleasures and treasures.

Despite the drunken antics of the dorms I slept like a log, waking to skype to say night night to those in England whilst having my breakie (Oz spelling). Creepy how quickly mind and body adjust so the abnormal becomes ordinary.

The Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery here has a fantastic collection of John Glover landscapes, including new acquisitions currently free, wonderful.

Plus here an intriguing and absorbing display of domestic ‘artwork’ from 1800/s, oddly fascinating. The colonial wives were obviously British, though a mixture of classes, it seems to have been fine for ex-convicts to reform and marry ‘up’ (presumably not enough women prepared to immigrate?). The needlepoint, quilting and embroidery tell their stories, often integrated with Oz aspects such as gum trees/feathers/even tribal additions.

Then back to my little car to drive alongside the river Tamar. The gps sent my along the ‘highway’, but as per usual the locals advised ignoring it, and this time I did. I found, as directed, the mainly deserted scenic route along the water edge.

First stop, a farmers market and ‘basket’ fair (i.e. bring along your basket of produce and exchange-great name!), in a little village hall miles from anywhere.

Two little girls persuaded me to part with a dollar for a bag of apples and another lady (born in Brighton, like many I’ve met, Tasmania’s population is heavily biased towards those originally from the UK) gave me some leatherwood honey, a local speciality.

Despite signposted as a Tamar Attraction, there was barely a soul on this road, as you can see from the pictures…but it’s lovely, little coves, beaches-I found Bonnie beach by chance, following the signs to facilities. Like most here, well kept and clean, and in this case 10 minutes down a gravel road ending up in the bay, perfect spot for lunch.

This road has art galleries and wineries on every corner. I stopped at a few, the welcome is so generous it’s hard to get away, and there is an abundance of creativity in this valley.

And its not my imagination, the greens are different here, apparently it’s the gum trees and the natural soils, there is a turquoise effect very different to the rich verdant nature of England (as confirmed by a local artist, anyway) and the hills really do go purple as the sun sets, thanks to the richness of the soil/rocks.

This evening I walked the Tamar wetlands, a stark contrast to the open spaces of the valley views. Here is dank, dark streams and overhanging branches, fallen trees and very odd plants, a sense of an alien environment-I was relieved to return and meander back (via the gorge, I love this place) alongside the harbour into familiar townscapes.

Launceston has definitely grown on me, the town is an architectural delight and the river has a life of its own.  There is much more to see than I’ve time to do here, but hopefully I’ll return?

Not looking forward to the long drive back to Hobart tomorrow, but it will be lovely to have the luxury of a hotel, although I’ve become a fan of hostels. Cheap, cheerful and very friendly (in my experience-I’ve heard some horror stories though!), I’m turning into a backpacker in my old age.

Launceston and surrounding area

The weather here, like the scenery, changes dramatically-today it was overcast/windy and grey, just like home.

Driving west towards Deloraine the landscape becomes gentler and even more English, even down to the local WI markets in village halls. There are only a string of villages, all historical legacies from colonial times, literally living museums.

The village greens, complete with cricket/bowls/ surrounded by roses and cottages (Chudleigh is the country’s ‘Rose’ town; I could have been in Devon , even cream tea on sale in the tearoom,)

Deloraine is the country’s arts and crafts centre, thinks Lewes but with more galleries, folk shops, tribal art and health food delis everywhere, sculptures line the ‘main’ street, I spent a happy hour or so wandering around the local art works.

On to Mole Creek, and up the Alum Gorge; an ancient aboriginal site that ends with a stunning view over the cliffs with the western mountain ranges towering beyond.

Like other preserved sacred sites, this too felt special, though I can’t explain why.

 

Launceston and surrounds generally is more insular than Hobart , the townsfolk seem more self contained, and I feel an outsider here in a way that I haven’t anywhere else.

Tonight the youngsters from nearby Devonport have hit town (here-literally, most of them are in the hostel!) and the riverside town has become nightclub Mecca .

 

Ah well, who needs sleep anyway…I wandered up the floodlight creek walk to the bottom basin just as the sun was setting, and listening to the water rushing past and the lights reflecting on the red rocks above, so silence was golden for a while!

 

Being in touch with home feels strange; so close and yet so far. Talking about everyday domestic matters is weird when sitting in a hostel on the other side of the world. The time difference is challenging, the seasons are polar opposites, nothing matches, it’s disorientating.

Taz - Launceston and the North

Driving up from the East to the North is an experience…not least because the vista changes so dramatically, its like going from Ireland to Scotland (literally, distance wise) via the wild west and a couple of mountains.

As usual for Tassie, not a car in sight for miles, so after a few hours, a relief to pull into Campbell Town , the ‘major’ town on the midland highway. I’d joined this rather than going up and around, I’ve really found out the hard way not to push the distances.

Campbell Town is simply a collection of stores and the (as usual) heritage museum, but provided a handy coffee/bench/river walk to ease my aching muscles (how do Australian bottoms cope with the driving??)

The public facilities are in the now defunct railway station, tidily transformed with flowers and verandas, next to lone carriage, sitting proudly displayed on tracks that go nowhere nowdays...It’s rather sad railway history all around the country on tracks that now go nowhere.

The honey here is gorgeous. I went into the traditional honey shop (yep, the towns have an eerie similarity) and tasted chocolate, marzipan, hazelnut and ginger varieties before being honeyed-out, what fun. (The Australians are very generous with the free tasters)

Arrived in Launceston, thank God for gps because it looked like London after the last few days (its about the size of Lewes), and found the hostel-and this really is a true hostel, even more so than Sydney-no towels, bedding, soap, etc…but it has free wife!!

And the kitchen was full of free food as many guests had just left; I was very excited to find cereal, pouring custard and cream, a feast.

Launceston’s river walk in the setting sun feels like another country.

 

Spent the evening catching up with emails and skyping family-bizarrely, now feel more homesick than I have ever been since setting off. Seeing people and chatting about home has suddenly made me miss the everyday ordinary stuff that gets left behind in the excitement of travelling.

I’ve not felt alone at all, though I have wanted to share moments and times with people, but tonight, in the bare room with no TV to distract me, I wish my family were here too.

 

Friday

Breakfast in the kitchen and more skyping…at least am now up to date with the news, Richard’s wedding preparations (all set for August 11 in Arundel, wonderful), Andrew’s working in Egypt (so he’s out of contact, alas), and even news of cats/hens, etc.

Set off to walk the Cataract Gorge today, and have hiked miles. Here, amazing sight, the river rushes/rolls/flows down through the mountain, opening up into a natural basin and then down and out to sea.

The hike I did (3 hours worth of steep steps/hills-there is no health and safety culture here whatsoever) goes to a disused power station originally built in 1897, a real feat of design and engineering at the time.

Like the railways, the old machinery/pipes/pits/ etc are all on display, unmanned, and you can clamber around/in/out, dispite the fact that much of the time the sites jut out hundreds of feet on a rock face above the gorge.

The bridges are suspension type, swinging over rapids, nerve-wracking but the only way across….

The green river waters after the blue seas of the East coast are stunning, and the autumn finery fantastic. There is a reddish glint, the leaves  are beginning to turn here as yesterday was officially the first day of autumn season.

I drew the line at the tourist chair lift in the bottom basin, but had to ride the ‘inclinator’ (the lift), especially as that was free!

Fed up on arriving back to find that during the one car free day I’d had my little car had been ‘scratched’ in the car park in my absence..The hotel manager, who is very sweet, told me they were only the type of marks that would polish off (it looks as something has blown across it, there are trees everywhere and it’s been windy here).

This is the downside of being alone, there’s no one to reassure me when something goes awry and there are times when that’s just what I need.

It’s a roller coaster ride, up one day/minute, down the next…

Taz Continues - Heat and Fairy Penguins

On to Bicheno

Sunday………Freaky heat, 40 +

The fire risk is so great many roads/walk tracks/beaches etc shut (Tasmania was hugely devasted by widespread fires in 1967), so maybe the best day to spend what turned out to be hours in the car.

Distances here are vast. Mileage is small, but driving anywhere takes ages as the roads wind, twist, turn, go along rivers, up mountains, through forests, with not a town for hours, often not even another car.

There are odd farmsteads, think Little House on the Prairie.

To me, used to England, this is nerve-wracking; the only voice I heard for hours was the gps (I’ve got very attached to her) though travellers from the mainland think this island is quaint!

The road kill is phenomenal and disturbing.

I’ve seen literally hundreds of Tasmanian Tigers, mainly deceased, and a fair few wallabies, alas, also deceased.

I was warned not to drive after dark because of the size of the wallabies, they can right off a car, and I understand how now.

There are no cafes, no rest stations, no nothing, next time I want camper van-coffee, food/loo to hand!

Luckily I had plenty of water with me, I’m learning the oz way.

The views are so spectacular, it’s hard to describe how beautiful this country is, and so varied, one minute the road is winding along past forests, and black rivers, then up a mountain, down to beaches so clear and blue.

I stopped at one beach for a walk-hard to get out of the car in the heat, plus concerned the car might spontaneously explode, with all my worldly goods in the boot

And then-just to prove how few people live here: the couple walking towards me recognised me from Mount Wellington!

Apparently they were out for a Sunday drive (3 hours at least from Hobart at that point), Tasmanians  see distances are tiny, a quick run up town is between Hobart and Launceston, i.e. the length of Ireland-ish

.

Only two ‘towns’ on route;

Orford is a café, who kindly provided me with hot water, bless them (I’m carrying tea bags etc with me as the local stuff is foul, but no one seems to mind) and benches by a bridge over the scary and aptly named Black River-I needed a cuppa after driving alongside and nearly in that for an hour-, and I’d driven through Swansea before noticing it, and that is bigger than Bicheno.

On the recommendation of aforementioned locals, I turned off to Kate’s Berry Farm en-route. A slice of England, with the most gorgeous ice cream I have ever tasted!

Yes, yet another top of the list experience.

I had two scoops, boysenberry and blueberry, and almost couldn’t finish it…not cheap ($5) but worth every single cent. 

Arriving here, thankfully, there is a garage and a ‘supermarket’, as this is the most popular ‘resort’ on the East coast, albeit smaller than Newhaven.

Luckily the motel is sweet, tiny rooms gathered around an English garden, with a pool…And it was so hot when I arrived, I went in it!!

I can’t remember the last time I swam in a cold outdoor pool.

It’s noisy-the rooms aren’t soundproof, and after the Hobart ‘appt’ this is small; but different again, from the 4 star (very cheap) luxury in Hong Kong, to the hostel in Sydney, the self contained flat in Hobart, and now a motel room…all part of the travelling experience, methinks.

Fairy Penguins

Late afternoon I wandered down to the beach at the end of the road,…. the vista opened out into this stunning surfing beach, with Diamond Island, the penguin island reserve, opposite.

I walked along the sands and out to the island, via a spit as it was low tide, Not expecting to actually see anything.

Then dusk descended, and there they were:

Fairy penguins come ashore at dusk to feed the young in the dunes, tiny little creatures, waddling swiftly over the sands, and then jumping up rocks into the burrows.

I cried!

It was such a moving experience, they are so sweet,-the locals come down with (shielded) torches, and insisted on taking me ‘under their wing’ so I could take photos and admire their pride and joy.

The pics aren’t brilliant, as bright lights can blind the penguins, but this one is the best (to follow…).

Apparently there is a very expensive tour with special lights, which is always packed-this was so magical and special I’m relieved I found them via local legends instead of tourist traps.

Monday

The heat is gone; temp down by 16 degrees, stormy and overcast. So of course I go out minus sun cream and am now sunburnt.

And covered in mossier bites, or whatever particular insect got through leggings/long sleeve t-shirt this evening.

As I type I am covered in moisturiser and toothpaste (best antihistamine I’ve found so far)

Today was the day I was possibly even more scared than driving up mount Wellington.

I thought I’d drive to the local national park to see the waterfalls, well signed off the ‘highway’…but 20 minutes up a dirt track with nothing in sight bar a couple of very scary homesteads (talk about the wild west) I decided discretion was the better part of valour and managed to turn around.

Having finally made it back to ‘civilisation’ I followed the turn to the beach, only to find mile after mile of sand dunes/sea/surf/sand, with not a soul in sight-and no landmarks.

I had to drag a stick down and lay it in the sand to be sure I would find the car.

I walked for well over an hour, and in all that time saw only red bills and other unidentified birds.

It was wonderful, but marginally unsettling-there are so few people here/anywhere.

So this evening I stayed ‘local’.

1)      The whales’ lookout-a hike up the summit overlooking the ‘town’ (village) where the original aboriginal settlers looked out for whales.

2)      The foreshore ‘walks’ to the Blowhole.

For both, follow the arrows over rocks, cliff tops, etc-Tasmanians have no concept of health and safety-there are occasional red blobs on major rock dangers, but other than that it’s a matter of clambering, scrambling and praying.

The Blowhole is fun…the massive purple legged crabs even more so, and the birds...there are tiny islands just off shore full of nesting babies, and I saw massive birds swooping down and snatching them in their claws, flying overhead with

their prey.

I did wander down to spot the penguins tonight-and was invited to join a party of women, with wine, from Prague.

Much red wine later…

Alas no penguins tonight-would have seen at least double of them anyway!

Tuesday

I’m weary…very weary, today. The party on the beach finished off my aching body, my chest has succumbed to the effects of the temp peaks and troughs, and my mind is shot to pieces.

It’s a wonderful trip, but tiring alone, driving is difficult for me, I worry, and keeping keys, etc safe, carrying water everywhere, etc, takes its toll.

So I took it easy, and drove the ‘short’ distance to the Freycinet national park, and Coles Bay.

Chilled out by wandering along Oyster Beach, the shells are enormous, and oyster catchers easily visible in the shallows.

The Hazards, massive looming rock formations, tower overhead, catching the light spectacularly (red rocks)

Having viewed the pic of Wineglass Bay, and viewed the fee to climb to the lookout, I decided I was ‘viewed out’-and talking to other walkers many had felt the same.

I also saw a warning notice re the roads in the Douglas Apsley park (see Monday)-now they tell me!   But I’m pleased I’m now sensible rather than a coward...

Having coffee, I chatted to a young couple who’d just moved to Sydney, on a brief holiday, the chap came from Ashford-near Brabourne Lees, and a few minutes later we were joined by another couple, more my age, who now live here, and he came from Southampton-it’s scary how small this world is.

Along Muirs beach watching the wildlife and then back via Swanwick-this really isn’t a town, it’s a collection of new build houses/new roads built around old farmsteads, but looks like a ghost town, sad sight, nothing has been sold, for sale signs everywhere, homes and businesses, even in high season times are hard here.

I took a detour home via ‘Friendly Beach’-My God what is it with this country and roads, without warning this became a rock strewn dirt track AGAIN.

I got as far as the lookout, stunning but scary and negotiated downhill again-though even the ‘main’ roads throw up stones all the time, frightening the life out of me.

I also detoured via Moulting Lagoon Game Reserve, which looks like it’s named. , mouldy pools full of birds, glistening salt plains, and black water on the horizon.

Tonight I settled for an evening stroll into ‘town’ for an ice cream. Alas, no MacDonald’s, but the supermarket does cheap/yummy lollies.

Wednesday

Feel much better today,  physically and mentally, and set off to explore the Northern end of the East coast, the Bay of Fires and Binnalong Bay.

The weather is great, the wind keeps the temp down, but it’s sunny, so I’m seeing Tasmanian in all its glory-the drive alone is stunning, glimpses of brilliant blue seas/dark creeks/rivers. Fields of hay and rolling hillsides/dense pine forests interspersed with colourful flowers.

Binnalong Bay exceeded my expectations-a perfect curved bay, white sands, see through water, diverse shades of turquoise blue and green, the sand so fine it was hard to walk.

The sun reflecting on the water and the surrounding red rocks was like a picture postcard.

A couple ‘chased’ me along the beach to say I was their lucky charm, we’d been in the same places three times and each time the weather had been good, and all of Oz has had a dreadful summer.

By sheer fluke, I arrived here just as the schools went back after the long break, so I’m reckoning its like UK, the weather always improves when the uniforms go back on!

I stopped in St Helen’s, bigger than Bicheno, typical of Oz small towns, the main street, like small town US,  accompanied by waterfront, quayside, fishing fleet, veteran’s memorial park and enamelled seats/artistic murals, etc.

The national food is lobster, scallop pies and ice cream, I could live here!

Walked the north end of the miles of Denison Beach enroute home to see the Porches rock formation-again a surprising delight. The smooth overhang/stalactites hanging down appear suddenly at the end of endless sand dunes, weird and striking, a contrast and a telling sign of the power of the ‘rips’ as it only hits this spot at extreme high tides/winds.

This evening I ran along the sandy beach as the sun was setting, not a soul around other than the baby penguins clicking in the burrows waiting for their nightly feed.

(And am now watching another episode of Sherlock Holmes, which I have now become addicted to, despite not catching it at home)

Taz - Update 3

What a fantastic country! I’ve spent the day driving around between historic Richmond , gorgeous countryside, and then vast expanses of water, spanned by low rise bridges, and the most fabulous beach I have even seen.

Richmond is a parody of itself, full of chintz tea rooms and sweet shops, model villages and a duck pond, but the ancient churches and the cemetery, the oldest in Australia , moving and atmospheric.

On through Sorrell and down to seven mile beach, which, so far, is the best beach I have ever seen!  Miles and miles of unbroken sand, enormous shells, backed by the bluest sea, gentle waves, surf waves in the bends, and pine forests and sand dunes as far as the eye can see. with the hills of the Derwent valley looming overhead.

This country is such a mystery-one minute its all English colonial buildings, and rolling hills/green pastures-even cows and sheep-farm  shops and fruit farms, and then there’s spectacular beaches, surf, and pine forests….even the beach changes-the pine forests gave way to sand dunes and what looked like a Christmas tree farm!

 

 

As I type, I am listening to a severe weather and fire warning for the weekend-not rain, but heat. I don’t understand the science, but the temp here goes up suddenly, its going to be nearly 40 degrees this weekend-from an average of 20-24 the last few days.

It’s typical of Tasmania -nothing is consistent, from the weather to the landscape.

 

SAT-yes, it’s SO hot!  

 

Its now 40 degrees, about midday , and the pavements are melting, as I am!

I have retreated back to the ‘flat’ for a restorative cuppa, post Salamanca market forage (brilliant fruit, loads of free tasters, had to go back again, like Lewes farmers market but massive) and now reckon I will have to take off up the mountain in search of cool air.

OMG I have just driven up a mountain!

No one told me the road went to the summit-it’s higher than Ben Nevis !

My ears popped, but the road twists and is so narrow once I’d started I couldn’t turn round…I have never been so scared in my life.

So that’s the most fantastic beach and now the most fantastic mountain I have ever been on/up/seen, and all in the space of 48 hours-this is such a weird country.

There is masses of open space, its so quiet compared to Sydney , but the scenery is marvellous, and the people very friendly-they love my English accent.

I’m too exhausted to risk getting in the car again today….my nerves are shredded, but it was worth it.

The heat is still phenomenal, about 35 at 6pm , I shall have to go to the nearby MacDonald’s for a restorative ice cream (and use their free wi-fi!)