Tassie the Last

"The bouquet is floral and complex with jonagold apple, and banana chip, and freshly dried goji berries..."

Sat 20th, Day 18:

Last day in Tassie. We had to be at Devonport that evening for 7:30 cast-off.
Nice drive that wound through the hills to get to Scottsdale.
Scottdales is a town totally owned by the forestry people so we ate quickly in a bakery and fled.
It is back to being dry and yellow farmland, which is good because that means vineyards. We explored the Pipers Brook area a bit.
Lunch at Pipers Brook vineyard. The wines were so so, but they have THE most pretentious tasting notes ever. (see photo)
Stopped at a couple of others. Got fuel in George Town and crossed the Tamar on the Batman bridge.
Stopped at two vineyards on this side including Holm Oak who have a pig.
Took the B71 to Devonport through rich farmland with the deep red soil like we'd seen at Table Cape.

East of Devonport. Rich red volcanic soil.

In Devonport we ate in a crazy witch themed place. The building was an old stout mansion. There was tons of stuff for decoration - bottles of decorative preserved veges; old copper things; old port bottles etc. The tables were tree slabs and therefore weren't flat. The food was good and well priced. Large helpings.

H: You look ready for a cruise!
C: Do you have the frangipanis?
H: I have arranged for us to be met with bouquets.

Loading was a breeze.
We sat at the stern until Tasmania was out of sight.

Sun 21st and Mon 22nd:
I turned up at Caroline's cabin for a shower. I'd spent the night in one of the upright airline style 'Ocean Recliners' cursing people who snore. I did move away from the worst snorer, but closer to the second worst snorer. Eh, it's all experience, right?

Caroline told me "You're very lucky having me for an aunt, you know! They didn't give me a bathmat this time and I was going to use the other towel but was more kind and thoughtful than usual and let you have it."

I agree. I am lucky.


Unloaded into the Melbourne gloaming we refuelled and bought ice for the esky. Then I took The Aunt for breakfast at the enormous Italian patisserie just off Lygon St called Brunetti's. This place is an institution. It has an enormous and mind boggling range spread through two shop fronts.
We had morning tea at Ellen's parent's place in the Macedon ranges for an hour.
And after driving for far too long whilst too tired, got to Henty where we stayed at the Doodle Cooma Arms Hotel.
We'd stayed there on our way back from Victoria last road trip and loved it.
Those owners had sold it on two a pair of unhappy people.
They were singly unsuited to customer service. No greeting or welcome. He seemed displeased that we were even staying there.
Ahhh, anyway.
Got pissed on four Kilkennies and passed out from exhaustion at about 8pm.

Drove through Wagga and tried to get the Aunt enthused about the M-113 armoured personnel carrier with 75mm low-pressure gun that was on display at one of the crossroads. She didn't care.
Morning tea in Gundagai. They gave us butter for the finger bun!

Then home about 3pm. Unloaded all my loot, and bid The Aunt farewell.
And I haven't seen her since!

Above, Rain in Henty

From 'The Discovery of France' by Graham Robb

'My secret reason' for recounting all this, Stendhal (Henri Beyle, later known as Stendhal, travelled throughout France in 1837) explained, was to encourage the reader ot take a cheerful view of 'all the little mishaps that often spoil the jolliest expeditions - passports, quarantine, accidents', etc. Modern transport created expections of comfort and convenience, but a traveller who put his mind to it could avoid ill humour as 'a kind of madness that eclipses the objects of interest that may surround one and amongst which one shall never pass again'.

A recent note from the Aunt:
"(Quoting from the website for Seahorse World, Beauty Point Wharf) Seahorse World offers a totally unique experience, as the aquarium is 100% dedicated to the mysterious life of the seahorse. Seahorse World offers an enjoyable tour that is devoted to the preservation and conservation of the seahorse.Enjoy a memorable and fun day at Seahorse World and help assist in the pro-active.."

We must have driven almost right past it. I'm sorry we ever went to stupid Tasmania now - all I wanted to see was seahorses. None of the other stuff was worth it.

actually, I thought I'd mention it in case you're ever in that vicinity again. I can't imagine you would have known about it otherwise we would have been there quick smart?? This is not a criticism as such - possibly more a disappointment in your ability to provide a reasonably decent trip for the Aunt."

I give up.

Tassie Part 16

Friday 19th, Day 17:
Drove north to The Gardens which is the village that marks the start of the Bay of Fires. We wandered round the rocks for quite a while. Bright orange lichen covers many of the granite boulders.
Gradually made our way south - stopping every so often to walk along a beach or visit a lookout. We finally saw a pair of oyster catchers. We were surprised the whole way round Tasmania not to see more seabirds. We saw a lot more on the Great Ocean Road trip and we don't know why there was a dearth of them further south. It was the late breeding season and everything.
Lunch by a lagoon. Had the whole place to ourselves.

South of St Helens is a road out to St Helens Point and the conservation area. There are large sand dunes and I got to run around on them. That was cool.

Tassie Part 15

Thurs 18th, Day 16:
North and inland to St Columba Falls due west of St Helens. Glorius man-fern heavy forest with lots of wattle. The thickness and height of the man-ferns give a glimpse of dinosaur forest. The falls are very nice.
Saw quite a few small birds including a pardalote or similar right by the track who was completley unconcerned by us. The info board at the head of the path has that story of a colonial woman who was lost in this forest for nine days and was tracked by two thylacines for two days who were just waiting for her to die. She spent one night tunnelled into a hollow fallen trunk with a thylacine looking in at each end. She made it out eventually when she found two woodcutters but refused to take her shoes off in their presence because her stockings were torn. What a lady!

On the drive out a young echidna crossed the road in front of us. We kept pace with him for several minutes.
The cheese place at Pyengana was crap. A tourist trap with no good cheese. Don't go there.

We drove through the thickly forested hills to Weldborough. Good views. We did a forest walk through southern beech forest with cloyingly twee signs.
Found a pub/backpackers in Weldborough. It is a pretty old building and is in very good nick. It is being run by the son and his girlfriend of a Melbourne couple who bought it as their retirement plan. The parents were tying up loose ends on the mainland before moving down. Georgeous setting. Much much prettier than St Helens.
After lunch with ciders we took the dirt road through beautiful farmland and forest to Mt Paris Dam. I think Caroline just saw the sign and said 'Let's go there!'
A juvenile tasmanian devil ran across the road up ahead.
Mt Paris Dam is no longer in use. There is a newer dam further into the hills that made it redundant. They blasted holes in it to let the water out.
"First time I've walked through a dam!" says The Aunt.

A pleasant lookout near Goshen (which I learned just last week is named after a place in the bible where something happened).

There was something that Caroline wanted to buy from a chainstore called Chickenfeed. I think it was pegs. We'd seen Chickenfeed shops all over Tasmania and while we were there it was announced the head office was moving to Sydney to start the chain up there. It is a bargain shop.
The first time I saw it I thought it actually was an animal feed place specialising in poultry pellets. The Aunt thought it was a fast food place like Red Rooster.
Anyway, Chickedfeed has everything - including kneepads.
We bought kneepads.
See our heroic poses wearing them in our cabin!

Tassie Part 14

Wed 17th, Day 15:
A relatively short drive on the coast road up to St Helens.
Not impressed by the town. It is a bit touristy and has a harder edge to it, I feel. From the traffic it looks like the most common first destination for those who take the Spirit of Tasmania. It was the most expensive place too - both accommodation and food. The seafood place was a rort.
Google Maps did me wrong and placed our caravan park on the north of town. We drove passed the same roadworkers about five times trying to find the place and resorted to going back to town to the info place.
The caravan park was south of the town.

Tassie Part 13

Tue 16th, Day 14:
C: Would you like eggs?
H: No.
C: You're just afraid of having blue eggs.
H: Fine! I'd love eggs thanks.
C: Too late. Only women are allowed to change their minds.

Drove out to Freycinet National Park. The Aunt was asking again about the 600 steps to get to Wineglass Bay Lookout. Instead of the six hundred steps we went to the Friendly Beaches and the lighthouse on Cape Tourville. Spectacular views, including rocky islands that host a large number of breeding seabirds: ten species (see photo of info board).

Made it back to the vineyards in time for three tastings. 'Freycinet Wines' were all very acidic. Not good. 'Coombend' at the start of the same driveway was much better. They also had the tastiest green olives ever. Bought a bunch of stuff there. And the last was when we turned up at 'Spring Vale' after the guy had locked up, but let us in and we got quite a lot there. Caroline found a rose she particularly liked.
Some excellent lookouts on the way home. The land to the north east of Hobart could be anywhere in Australia - dry and yellow.

Tassie part 12

Sun 14th, Day 12:
No sign of Caroline this morning. She was charging around the foothills squeezing terrified chickens trying to get the freshest eggs possible.
It did seem we were on a mission to buy things with two gs in them.
'What did you do in Tassie?'
'We bought eggs and grog.'

We went to check out the produce market in Geeveston, but it was little more than a garage sale. The Aunt did buy some eggs though - some of which with shells quite blue. A mystery.
Picked up some wine to say 'thanks' to Allan.

We spent the late morning down in Southport. We marvelled at the blues of the water and white of the sand, and found large mussels on the rocks. Lunch by the sand.

(These photos are on the previous post. shrug.)

And I don't think we did a hell of a lot in the afternoon. Maybe we went to the new vineyard just to the north - St Imre. Set up by a Hungarian couple about five years ago.

H: I have decided that Ellen shall call me 'My Balding Adonis'.
C: Why?
H: Because it's funny.
C: Look, she's clearly not in a good state of mind (ie going out with H) but she'll come crashing back to reality soon.
H: Hey, if you want to prop up your fragile psyche; get your own blog. This is mine!


Mon 15th, Day 13:
Farewell Dover. A long drive today up to Swansea in the east. Stopped off at the bookshop to give the two bottles of nice red to Mary. She insisted it was too much and pressed two enormous frozen salmon steaks on me. These are from escapees from the large amount of salmon farming in the area.

Stopped off in Hobart on the way. I bought some Japanese handbags for Ellen, and Caroline picked up some presents for her relos.
Morning tea/early lunch at the Sorell Berry Farm about 30ks east of Hobart. Picturesque place with an interesting array of pickles and berry products including liqueurs: tayberry (hybrid of raspbarry and blackberry) and jostaberry (gooseberry hybridised with black currant), jams etc etc The food was very nice.

Swansea. We didn't learn our lesson of exploring a town properly and missed the main street again until the next day.
Moved the TV down to the table from the neck-crickingly high kitchen cupboard.

That night watched the muttonbirds coming into their rookery.

Swansea looking across Cole Bay to the Freycinet Peninsular

Tassie Part 11

Sat 13, Day 11:
Drove to Huonville to check out their produce market - the Aunt has a hankering for chicken. On the way I stopped at the second-hand book shop for a poke around.
The Aunt got talking to the owner, Mary. Expressing a desire to do some fishing while in Dover, Caroline was offered a tinny and Mary's partner, Allan, for a fish in the afternoon.
The road out of Dover has many splendid vistas down valleys to the river. All very beautiful, and slightly temporally displacing. It can't have changed much in many decades.
The market is staffed by loud pleasant young women. I find haricot beans for which I've been searching for ages so's Caroline can make her well-regarded baked beans. After the cries of joy and delight that met the puy lentils, this was even more of a coup! What an awesome nephew I am.

We were going to do the Tahune airwalk but had been talked out of it by Mary who hates Gunns (the forestry people). So instead we decided to meander back. I parked the car slightly in everyone's way under the shade of a stringy bark so we could eat at a slightly fancy looking restuarant called 'Petty Sessions' by the river just outside Port Huon.
It was here we met the Slithery Waiter.
I honestly thought he was stoned. He was about 30, well dressed with a long apron and did everything slowly. The Aunt was convinced he was mincing a little and elegantly swishing his way around the restaurant because he knew he was good looking. We ordered a scallop pie for me and um a sandwichy thing for the Aunt? He suggested a Boags beer called 'Wizard Smith Ale' so I got one of those. Food eventually arrived and he slithered over to us. By this time I think Caroline was making slow motion dancing gestures from the golden age of Hollywood and giggling.
She graciously allowed me another beer and volunteered to drive us home. I chatted to his Slitheriness about local beers for a while. After he'd left the Aunt suggested that he thought I was lovely and I was flirting with him. I was still of the opinion he was stoned and that explained his languidness, or maybe that's just how they were round here.
'Nope', says the Aunt, 'He's gay. And I think he liiiiiiiikes youuuuuuu.'
Honestly!

The Aunt noticed a very long caravan being manoeuvred around the car, and that our car was now standing in sun.
'Either the sun's moved or the tree has!' she observed.
Not really engaging my brain, I turned and surveyed the scene.
'It's the sun that's moved' I tell her.
She cracks up.
I blame the book on quantum physics I'm reading.

I read a book many years ago written by a Lancaster bomber pilot called 'The Eighth Passenger'. The eighth passenger was fear.
The TV serial killer, Dexter, has his 'Dark Passenger' - his killing urge.
I had a second passenger - the sausage.
This was the, well, actually two sausages, that I'd bought in Hobart to the amusement of both Ellen and Caroline. I had been dilligently eating a bit each breakfast and the occassional snack during the day, and now it was the time for the sausage to come into its own!
I can sing the praises of the sausage if I want.
The Aunt keeps referring to bread as The Staff of Life.
'It's in the bible!' she says.
Yeah? Well, so is shutting the hell up.
We were going to use the sausage as bait. Hah!

That afternoon we went boating where occured The Incident.
We went fishing.
The Incident happened.
"And _that's_ why you don't wear your good clothes to go fishing' said Aunt Caroline.

I confirmed every impression a seafaring country type can have about incompetent city-slickers. Allan laughed quietly to himself the whole time I was demonstrating that I didn't actually know how to row. I knew the theory, but I got an oar end caught in my shirt at one point; and I had generally to do two strokes with my left for every one of my right. With much encouragement from the Aunt ie 'You're going the wrong way!' I managed to move the boat so Allan could lay two gill nets in vaguely the right spot.

Then we drifted and I presented Allan with the bait. His face said that we clearly had no idea what we were doing. But we showed him! Well, the Aunt did, at least. She caught an octopus which quirted energetically in all directions but mine. We let him go and within fifteen seconds The Aunt caught a good sized flathead (or 'flaired' as it is pronounced by Northern Beaches locals). Allan told us many anecdotes - including jumping into the lion enclosure at Taronga Zoo in the 60s to get better pictures, and being evicted from the zoo after jumping into the hippo's pen for the same reason. We chatted happily and entertained each other thoroughly. My hat blew off into the water.
Allan took over the rowing, and retrieved a mullet from the gill nets.

Coming ashore: The Incident.
Allan and I had stepped off the stern because he'd reversed it in. The Aunt, however, decided to misjudge the depth of the water and stepped off near the bow into thigh deep water. One leg was still in the boat, and this presented a problem that I didn't recognise.
Instead, with a strange look on her face, she started pushing the boat away from her with her dry leg. Confused, Allan and I swung the bow back to her from the stern end.
Once more she slowly and steadily pushed the bow away before emitting one short 'Aark!' and falling straight down into the brine.
Shrieking with laughter (being the gentleman I am) I went to aid, but she was laughing too hard to stand up, so Allan was presented with a tableau of two lunatics howling with laughter - one with tears rolling down his cheeks and quite uselessly holding the arms of the other one who was happy to stay sitting in frigid water to her waist.
Eventually we got it together and Allan scaled and filletted the fish and gave us both, which was very kind.
He showed us his shack and then we headed home for a change of clothes.
My notes read "C fell in, in a strange way."
Relating The Incident to her second daughter a few days later, Caroline was told, 'But you NEVER ask for help, mum!' thus letting me off the hook.

I have a note here of 'C stung by some fiendish Tasmanian bug'. Evidently nature took a shine to her.