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)