Tasmania
December 23, 2003To our surprise, we were met at the airport by Tony, another of Brent's Internet friends -- this time of the "Old Tools Group". Tony knew we'd be arriving in the afternoon, so at noon set out to meet all the flights! Luckily we were on the second one at 2:30. Again, the hospitality and generosity of people blows me away. I made a promise to myself on the spot to be a more hospitable host in the future!
One of our bikes didn't make it on the flight -- the first mishap we've had. But we trundled the other into Tony's car, he drove us the 17 km into town, then to the Tourist info station -- which was super-helpful with tons of brochures and maps and personal advice -- then to our hotel and, in order to give us a feeling for the literal lay of the land, drove us to the top of Mt. Wellington (1270 m). It was a great idea, giving us a bird's eye view. The whole island of Tasmania is rolling hills (no flats, anywhere), equal mix of agricultural or grazing land and forest, some of it pine but predominantly of eucalyptus. Hobart lies at the foot of the mountain and spreads along the useful and scenic port, with other cities spilling out onto the long and indented coastline. The sun is shining, the breeze is blowing and the view is terrific. We have a feeling this has been a good trip choice.
Tony is a native Tasmanian, a forester working for the state department of land and parks, and a person with a general interest in everything. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of Tasmania, its history, its geography and ecology and its place in the world. He is a great conversationalist and full of information. We couldn't have asked for a better introduction from a very friendly and knowledgeable person. Moreover, since there are so many similarities among Australia/Tasmania/B.C. its fun to contrast and compare. There is more similarity than contrast -- resource base, forestry issues, fire suppression, property speculation and price inflation, growth issues, government interdepartmental rivalries, demographic profile, aboriginal issues, system of government and justice. They just have more sheep and eucalyptus.
Dinner at the Little Bali restaurant -- excellent -- then crash.
Were it not for Tony, this trip could have been very different -- for the worse! He stopped by the hotel in the morning to drop off a book he was lending to us on the Tasmanian Trail. Because our bike hadn't yet been delivered by Quantas, despite repeated calls to their baggage handling, he took Brent to the airport, guessing that Christmas volume meant we might never hear from the airline. The bike was there! So with more thanks due to Tony he left us to do our final packing and get started our cycling. Then the bad news struck. We took the bike out of the bike bag and the back wheel was frapped. Not slightly dinged, not a slight wobble -- but the kind of complete distortion that can only occur if someone runs over it. We can only guess that a baggage car driver used it as a curb! Pissed off at Quanta as we were -- no other airline has caused any damage -- time was of the essence. Its Christmas Eve and this isn't going to be easy. Many of the downtown service stores close for the shortened week between Christmas and New Years. Sure enough, the first bike store told us they don't have our size wheels, would order parts, the bike would be ready mid-January. Oh no! The second bike store had a rim, but its now 2:00 and no wheel is assembled. We couldn't believe it when the guy offered to build the wheel this very afternoon. And, despite all the last-minute Christmas shopping going on in the store, he got it done. We visited a Quantas agent to explain the $230 bill; he thought we needed to pay the airport baggage staff another personal visit. This isn't going to be easy! But thanks to Ray Appleby Cycle store, our trip to Tasmania isn't in ruins!
Having the day to cool our heels gave us a chance to do some chores (buy books, groceries; have our packs mended, etc.) and to explore Hobart. The town is quite something. Its small -- population 126,000 -- and the downtown core consists of only a few streets. So the traffic is light, the pace is relaxed and the setting is pretty. The best part is the amazingly well-preserved Georgian buildings. Most 2-storey, some 3; a large assortment of original buildings from the 1820s/1830s and on. Many side by side so you can get the impression of a whole street or area. It really is a walker's town and we got a serious case of craned neck. Very picturesque.
The Australian dollar is at par with the Canadian dollar (relative to the $US), but is only recently so. This currency appreciation is reflected in the Canadian dollar purchasing power in Tasmania. We have to date travelled in inexpensive countries: South Africa, Spain and Portugal slightly cheaper than B.C.; Malaysia and urban Thailand a lot cheaper than B.C., and Sri Lanka and rural Thailand unbelievably inexpensive. Its been a shock to the system when we've become accustomed to paying 50 cents to $3 for lunch, to find a typical fare at $15 - $18. Its also amazing how quickly the mind adapts: yesterday the prices seemed "Wow!", by today they seem "Ho, hum".
Christmas Eve dinner was hard to find -- lots of alcohol at the ready, but no food. We found the excellent Little Bali open, so had a repeat meal, bought a bottle of champagne and toasted our good fortune while doing bike maintenance. It works like magic for us, but wouldn't be everyone's cup of Christmas Eve tea.
If first appearances hold, this is going to be good cycling. The sun is shining but its not too hot -- at 20 degrees its a pleasant relief from Thailand, Malaysia and Sri Lanka for the last two months. The scenery is all rural -- hay fields or grazing land for sheep or cattle, broken by irregular patches of eucalyptus trees. It is surprisingly hilly, either up or down but never flat. But most of the hills are short, so its A-OK. But the wind! Its blowing at about 40 km/hr and gusting. Since its a cross-wind we're buffeted about and sometimes have trouble cycling a straight line and staying upright. Its a good thing there's not too much traffic on Christmas Day.
We are headed to Bruny Island, about 40 km to the ferry which is doing its own scheduling this holiday day. So we along with many other travelers cooled our heels in the ferry parking lot for a few hours until the crew think we've suffered enough and take us across. But it is worth the wait. Bruny Island is quiet and picturesque. Like our own Gulf Islands when the ferry arrives, 40 cars are disgorged and tear off down the road which is then quiet until the next batch is disgorged. In Tasmania the pace is slow, on Bruny Island it slows down completely. It looks a bit like Saltspring, but has the population density of Saturna Island. It is also flat like our drivers say the Gulf Islands are -- i.e. not!! So by the time we arrive at Adventure Bay, having battled both the hills and the gusting winds, we're pooped. Moreover, we have not eaten -- being Christmas Day there has been not a restaurant, not a cafe, not a takeaway open. We have munched a few peanuts and raisins but are famished.
When we roll into the caravan park at 6:30 we find the only restaurant in "town" closed for two days. Brent not so jokingly asked the very friendly proprietress of the caravan park if she could spare some gruel, when queried explained that is a bowl of water with a piece of cabbage waved over it. She laughed sympathetically and offered us some fruit which, ever-polite Canadians, we declined. Ten minutes later, just as Brent is preparing to photograph our Christmas feast of raisins and peanuts, she appears with cooked turkey, cold beef, tomatoes, bread, cheese, lettuce, and a bottle of champagne. Jenny is the angel of Bruny Island! We toasted our good luck and slept for nine hours!
December 26, 2003
Hanging out on Bruny Island
Christmas is not as overdone in Tasmania as it is in Canada. A few lights, a couple of pictures. Very little even in the stores of Hobart. So it seemed quite natural to have a lazy day in Adventure Bay. We walked the beautiful sandy beach (Brent checking out the plovers nesting there), ate lunch at the very quaint Penguin Cafe and generally enjoyed a Boxing Day without Boxing-Day-sales hype. This might be a relaxing holiday spot for a few days. The beach is beautiful and uncrowded, there are plenty of nearby hikes 1 - 6 hours and nothing else in this town of fewer than 200 people -- the size of which would double with the holiday cottages and caravan park full.
This is our first personal use of a caravan park. It works pretty well. You rent a small but fully-equipped trailer (1 bedroom, tiny kitchenette/dining area) with an attached enclosure with extra cots/sofa etc. Toilet and showers are in the ablution block. Shared laundry, BBQ pits. For $32 a night I don't know how they can make a living? Why drag a trailer when they've got one there?
Its still windy and this morning the temperature was 11 degrees, although it warmed up to a comfortable 20 - 22. Trying to get a fix on the typical weather patterns here has been a challenge. We have each tried several times. Is it often windy like this? Not really, its not so bad. Is it windy every day? Well, no, it pretty much comes and goes. Is it windy 5 or 25 days a month. Hmmm. It's sort of off and on. We're still searching for the right question.
December 27, 2003
Bruny Island to Snug, Tasmania
49 km today / 126 km to date (in 3:18)
A delightful (but hilly and windy) ride to the metropolis of Snug, population 800. When the big fire in 1967 destroyed many of the homes in Snug, a temporary caravan park was established on the beach which is now the permanent caravan park for holidayers. Its a terrific location and again would make a nice place to hang out for an extra day.
Today the answer to our "How many days is it windy in Tasmania" was a chuckled response "364". Well, that clarifies the situation.
I heard today about an interesting walking trail. From Cairns to Melbourne along the dividing range -- takes about a year. Hmmm.
December 28, 2003
Snug to Sorell, Tasmania
52 km today / 178 km to date(in 3:32)
To avoid the hills on the back route (C643 via Taroona and Sandy Bay) we braved the A6. While the traffic wasn't too bad for a national road, we didn't avoid any hills -- and climbed a 226 metre guy. So the morning was a pretty coastal ride, followed by forested areas. The Sydney to Hobart race finished in Hobart today, and there was also some kind of foot race, so by the time we reached Hobart and went to trendy Salamanca Place for an Eggs Nova Scotia brunch, the place was crawling with jocks. We'd like to thing we fit right in -- and assume they didn't notice we are twenty years older.
Getting across the Hobart bridge is not quite hair-raising, but I admit to not seeing much of what is probably a superb view. I was busy trying to keep ahead of the 5-year-old on the Mustang bike behind me. Are all kids born fearless these days?
Another hill and then a coastal, beautiful, scenic ride into Sorell (pop 3600). There's not much here, but its the last stocking-up spot for the next few days.
We're not native yet, but we're getting there, greeting people with G'd-day or How ya goin', accepting a thank you or apology with "no worries" and figuring out that a bottle shop is a (small) retail liquor store, which usually means a lot of beer, a bit of wine and an assortment of hard liquor.
December 29, 2003
Sorell to Eaglehawk Neck
54 km today / 232 km to date (in 3:41)
An uneventful ride. The road is busy (17 cars in 5 minutes), but not overly so. At Dunalley we stopped for lunch at the hotel at the top of the hill and encountered our first fellow cyclists -- a Melbourne couple touring for two weeks. We exchanged a few travel tips and went our separate ways, but passed each other off and on for the balance of the day. Their story sounded like ours -- had planned to get fit before starting out, didn't get around to it, comforted themselves that they could therefore use the trip to get fit and were therefore regularly pooped!
We've been watching for wildlife, but so far, nada. There's the motionless variety along the roadside which requires a morbid curiosity in order to identify species, but its pretty much limited to lifeless wallabies, wombats and rabbits.
Eaglehawk Neck is a tiny, tiny town -- maybe 200 people -- on a gorgeous isthmus linking the main Tasmania Island to the south-eastern Tasman Peninsula on which Port Arthur is located. This very isthmus was the single land-route of escape for the convicts from the Port Arthur Penitentiary in its time, so apparently in those days was guarded by dogs. Today there is no sign of anything but a quiet holiday area.
The hotel (the only hotel in town) we checked into had a bar, a hotel lounge and a bottle shop. Since I still can't figure all this out, I set out to investigate each and learn the difference. Within the space of three minutes I had been through the separate door of each of the three rooms -- and met the same server each time! I think I was driving him crazy -- he didn't seem to like my "Just looking around" explanation. But it would appear Tasmania could help our own liquor licensing folks turn it up a notch!
Our hotel chef was new, so after we'd gone to dinner at 7:15 and the waitress came back at 9:15 to tell us that they were out of the fish I'd ordered and wondered what I'd like instead, we decided to finish our bottle of wine and call it quits. Or rather, I did. Brent then spent the next hour trying to rustle up some food, to no avail. He suggested better communication might be required in the future.
December 30, 2003
Eaglehawk neck to Port Arthur
29 km today / 259 km to date (in 1:42)
Just a short hop to Port Arthur on a flat, coastal, scenic ride -- after all, we don't want to be tired when Ruth and Paul arrive! And arrive they did, in style -- having already bought the groceries, wine, hats and noise-makers for the four evenings, including New Year's, we'll be spending together.
It's a good thing, too! From all I've read about Port Arthur's past and heard about it since, I thought there'd be a new town near the historic site. Nope. We're pretty much out in the boonies here. The total population of the area's two largest towns, each some 10 km away, is less than 500.
Its a good thing we booked a cottage at Port Arthur Lodge some months ago, guessing it would be busy over New Year's. People come and go, but they're booked solid. Our cottage sits in the sparse shade of the eucalyptus so has a comfy veranda for the hot days and a nice stove for the cold nights. The weather is changeable. In one hour, from 3:00 to 4:00 p.m. it dropped from 33 to 21 degrees. We're only a short stroll from a sheltered cover with nice beach and in the opposite direction a short stroll from the Port Arthur historic site. We couldn't have planned it better if we had known what we were doing!
Its great to see Ruth and Paul. We haven't seen them in 3 1/2 months and within 10 seconds its like we last chatted yesterday. There's nothing like long-time friends!
New Year's Eve, 2003
Port Arthur, Tasmania
The Port Arthur historic site is extremely well done. It sits on 40 acres, has 30 historic buildings and, aside from the terrific Visitor Centre and some modest restoration work, is true to its past. From its inception in 1830 as a convict timber station using convict labour to produce materials for the government to its closure in 1877, some 12,000 convicts passed through here. At its busiest it accommodated almost 3000 people; 1500 convicts, 1000 soldiers and prison guards/staff and some civilian accountants/doctors/etc. The tour guides speak very matter-of-factly about it, but I find it impossible to imagine so many people and all the associated industry (shipbuilding, timber sawing, food production, brick making, etc.) all jammed into this tiny space. It must have been impressive and intolerable.
Port Arthur housed only "the baddest of the bad" so was centred around some pretty serious hierarchy, some tough discipline (the flogging platform was judiciously located at the steps of the hospital) and some modern-for-its-time isolation, separation and punishment centres, where convicts were to silently contemplate their ways and reform their minds in the dark solitude -- no matter that it broke spirit or drove many mad. The lunatic asylum was the next closest building.
Somehow, the state of preservation, and the many great explanations are remarkably successful in creating an evocative atmosphere. They use gimmicky things like "assigning" you to a convict and you track his progress over the years, but it all combines to a successful sense of place. Very well done.
Walked back along the Port Arthur shoreline trail, lunch at Nubeena, trip to the bottle shop, short stretch at the beach and its time to think about New Years. Ruth has not only done all the shopping but has done all the menu planning and now sets about doing all the cooking. She's a great cook, so we're all extremely grateful, but owe her big time! After our feast of lamb (but what else on New Years in Tasmania), scalloped potatoes, salad, champagne, etc., we head back to the site for the ghost tour. It just seemed the thing to do -- especially on New Years Eve night.
Its billed as quite the scary thing. In fact, given the long daylight hours so close to the solstice it was still light when we started out at 8:30. The stories are pretty hokey and centre mostly on reactions of recent visitors. But by the time we'd heard about visions, stillborns, spectres and paid a visit to the subterranean dissection room, the kids in the group were jumpy and shivering. By 9:30 the sun had set and the lights on the old penitentiary building were suitably eerie. So not bad as a way to help us stay awake until midnight.
Stay awake we did. Sparklers, hats, noise-makers out on the lawn, Melbourne fireworks on TV. The rest of the 18 cottages were dead quiet. So much for Australians' reputations as partiers -- a quartet of Canadians beat 'em hands down!
January 1, 2004
Port Arthur, Tasmania
The Port Arthur site has enough variety to make a 2-day visit worthwhile, so back we headed. Watched a 3-person skit about a strike in the old convict days and went to a computer terminal to see if the old convict surnames matched any of ours. To no one's surprise, Ruth's and my ancestors were nowhere about; both Paul and Brent are suspect.
Lunch at the Bush Mill, a tourist site which we skipped (steam train, blacksmith shop, etc.)
Short walk at Remarkable Cave, an arch created by the erosive force of waves coming from Antarctica and pounding into the Tasman Peninsula. Looked a lot like some of the B.C. or Washington State rugged coastline.
In the evening we were visited by two Bush-tailed Possum, exciting for us but I bet the locals aren't so thrilled. They are scavengers, quite bold, with attitudes like raccoons. But watching them run along our veranda, climb the eucalyptus and have their eyes shining out at us from the darkness was a hoot.
January 2, 2004
Port Arthur, Tasmania
Managed to get through January 1 without making a New Year's resolution. Whew!
We visited the Tasmanian Devil Park, knowing its the only way we'd actually get a glimpse of these otherwise nocturnal hunters. No wonder they're nocturnal -- they're ugly as sin. Face like a rat, skull shaped like a Rottweiler and the body with its humpy back like a small hyena. Vicious and hissing. We watched them being fed possum and/or rat. Very nice. They crunch through fur, bone, teeth -- jaws of steel. Even Ruth, our confirmed animal-lover, would have a hard time cuddling one of these suckers!
The rest of the park had a few kangaroo and wallabies and some caged birds. But its really more a rehab site for animals and birds that have lost a confrontation with a moving car. A losing battle, but the people who work there have a kindly manner.
Brent and I went for a walk to the Maingon Blowhole and further out the cape. It was a pretty walk, never far from the ocean, primarily grassland, some short scrub. Although we were on constant lookout, we didn't spot any marsupials the whole four hours -- so had to be content with scat and spoor observations and one bush being rustled by an unknown critter.
January 3, 2004
Port Arthur to New Norfolk
58 km today / 317 km to date (in 3:58)
We said our farewells to Ruth and Paul today, who are heading on to Brisbane and Noosa (sp?) for the remainder of their holiday. Hard to say goodbye when it seems we just got together. Four days in Port Arthur is longer than necessary to see the sights, but when you bundle in New Years, the Cape Walk and lots of catching up on the news with good friends and some local exploring (and Ruth's culinary skills), it was a great break.
Paul drove us to Sorell (getting up at 6:00 a.m. to do so -- sainthood due) so we wouldn't have to retrace our bike route, and we then cycled northwest on back roads through Richmond and Tea Tree to New Norfolk. Moderately hilly, dry grazing land, sheep, cows, a couple of vineyards, very few cars, sunny but not too hot, we're well rested, a good day. Brent even saw an echidna foraging on the roadside, with about 20 pictures to prove it to me! Thank heavens for a digital camera...
The historic town of Richmond is pretty cool. With about 50 Georgian buildings and the oldest transport bridge in Australia (built of course with convict labour) it seems like an old England town. Despite its authenticity and its picturesque setting, its crawling with tourists all looking vaguely like they're not sure why they are there. We pressed on.
New Norfolk is another historical town -- there's a pattern beginning to show -- but small and not worth a special visit. I loved our hotel, though -- the Bush Inn, built in 1815. Its run down, the shower and toilet down the hall have seen better days. But in many respects reminiscent of an older style. Big enclosed veranda overlooking the Derwent River, huge common room with a big pool table, original entryway and old wooden bars. You can imagine the horses tethered outside.
January 4, 2004
New Norfolk to National Park
45 km today / 362 km to date (in 3:56)
Today we began the Tasmanian Trail. Its a 480 km track across the middle of the island, using a combination of back roads and private land for hikers, horseriders and cyclists. It runs from Dover in the south to Devonport in the north, but due to the time limitations and our desire to see the east coast, we plan to do only the middle section over the Central Plateau.
The route took us on a back road, up and over a 520m peak (1 1/2 Malahats) with an average 10% grade so it was tough work for that hour and one-half, but again few cars, grazing land, sheep, sun, hop fields. Even a headwind couldn't mar the day. The area is becoming quite remote. The towns may be only a mill or a plant, have only a few houses and fewer than 100 population, certainly no restaurant and sometimes no store or supplies. We'll have to start planning -- which is not our forte. In fact, here we are Day 1 on the trail and decide at about 2:00 to deviate so we can go to National Park at the foot of Mount Field to see the famous swamp gum eucalyptus. As we arrive at National Park, there is a 5 passenger car sightseeing train with about 15 passengers on it -- just like our own E&N. I feel right at home.
Our hotel is once again colonial -- given a choice its what we do. Dumpy looking outside, charming inside.
Dinners at these places are often less than satisfying, though, as are lunches. It's very difficult even in the larger places to get anything that's not either steak or deep-fried -- and usually served with french fries. Since I don't eat meat and don't like deep fried food, I'm either going hungry or cycling with some deep-fried stuff forming a lump in my stomach. The small places are even worse. Dinner tonight of deep-fried scallops and french fries was too much for even Brent of the cast-iron stomach and never-ending appetite to manage. With no end in sight for many days. Sigh.
January 5, 2004
Exploring Mt. Field National Park
We have been warned by locals and tourists alike that this is the height of holiday season and rooms will be tough to come by. However, we rarely book ahead anywhere and have found that, even here, even now, we have had no problem finding a room. Until today. We wanted to stay an extra day at our hotel so we could do some hiking in the park, but had to change locations because our hotel was booked. We got the last holiday cottage down the way. This spurred me on to call our next expected stop (Ouse) only to find they're booked. This means we'll have to adjust our route from the back roads onto a busier road in order to hit a town with accommodation. It looks like we'll have to join the rest of the world for a spell and actually make a plan, make arrangements and stick to it. Harrumph.
Our walk in the lower reaches of the National Park took us the usual four hours to cover what other people would do in two. But it takes time to ponder the changing vegetation, locate the water courses that promote growth of tree ferns, study the tall swamp gums (the tallest flowering tree and also the tallest hardwood tree in the world. With their white trunks they are easily distinguished from other eucalyptus.)
The forest is very different from ours. It is dry this time of year and there is virtually no undergrowth. While this makes birding easier in some respects, they often stay higher in the canopy -- and the ever-present wind doesn't make it any easier. But even I saw a fantail, Kookaburra (with its maniacal laugh), lots of sulphur-crested cockatoos (with their raucous call), robin, wren, etc. Much more exciting were the two separate spottings of echidna, those porcupine-like little critters which I have only before seen in captivity. No matter that they're common here -- not to us!
Russell Falls (40m drop), Horseshoe Falls and Lady Barron Falls all en-route. Not worth a special trip, but all along a very easy walking path if you happen to be in the area.
The cafe at the park had the best food yet, but wasn't open at night, so we had to resort to home cooking if we couldn't stomach more deep fried at the one and only hotel/restaurant within miles. Boiled pasta with bottled spaghetti sauce. Mmmm. Good thing we bought some wine!
January 6, 2004
National Park to Tarraleah
77 km today / 439 km to date (in 6:24)
We're getting stronger! Today we crossed two ridges and finished at a higher level, climbing a total of 1300 metres (4 Malahats), did some decent distance, and pedaled most of the time into a strong headwind. And survived tired but not exhausted. Brent is again talking about an Ironman. I'm not betting on it yet.
Despite wallaby scat all over the lawn at our cottage, no wallaby sightings yet.
We saw three cyclists today and stopped to chat with one intense, strong, wiry guy. Among other tidbits that cyclists trade (road conditions, availability of water, signage, etc.) this fellow mentioned "the worst trail in Tassie". By this he was referring to the back trail (C173) we had been lamenting we had to miss in order to get accommodation. Luck must be with us.
Our route took us through Fentonbury (weeny) and the tiny village of Ellendale, which with two graveyards shows that at one time it was bigger than the handful of folks who now live there. After passing Ouse (pronounced ooze, poor folks) we travelled on an A-road but I guess we're far enough away from the major centres because traffic wasn't bad. Farmland gave way to forested areas of eucalyptus and pine.
Our stay at Tarraleah Highland Village was a pleasant surprise. The town was originally a company town for the workers at the hydroelectric project there. The main features are power stations, canals, pipelines and surge towers -- so the tourist potential may be limited. But the lodge is so cool. It was dissed by the Lonely Planet, so not to everyone's taste. Its 1930s style, big common room in dark wood, softwood moldings and windowsills, period electrical switches. Run by a cadre of eccentric people who care about the place. An opportunity to relive yet another era.
January 7, 2004
Tarraleah to Bronte Park, Tasmania
30 km today / 469 km to date (in 2:24)
Dirty, miserable, cloudy, windy, rainy, cold day. Good thing we didn't go far!
We thought we'd tricked the weatherman by waiting until the drizzling rain stopped before leaving the comfort of my lodge, by succeeded instead in leaving just in time for a downpour. We cycled down, down into a gorge, being reminded once again that what's good for hydroelectric is not necessarily good for cyclists. Climbing out of the gorge in the rain wasn't a lot of fun, so it must be one of those character-building episodes. But the terrain started to change, still eucalyptus but here with more undergrowth, so there were some distractions from the elements. In addition, the fragrance in a eucalyptus forest after the first rain following a dry spell is really something. Two reasons for deep breathing!
The weather system changes are unbelievable. Pouring rain, clouds race across the sky, the sun comes out. Off comes our rain jacket. Three minutes later its pouring again. For the three hours we cycled, it changed completely about six times. We'd been prepared for this in New Zealand next month, but knowing about it and experiencing it are two quite different things.
Saw four other bundled up cyclists today, mother waving cheerfully, father and kids following a little less happily....
Because we haven't booked ahead, we had to take what we could get at Bronte Park Highland Village. So here we sit in our three bedroom cottage with a roaring fire, thinking that a little rain isn't so bad after all!
January 8, 2004
Hiding out at Bronte Park, Tasmania
I really though we were hooped today. Its cold, windy and raining. But we've booked ahead to our next spot, so fear we'll have to brave the elements, or find a pick-up truck or...or what? Luckily, there is some room here for us to stay an extra night and when I call ahead to Miena to ask if we can move our reservation to tomorrow, they say sure, to my surprise but major-league gratitude.
Its a good thing. Weather systems passed by about 30 times -- rain, sun, rain. But mostly rain. The average January rainfall here is 50 mm -- and we had 32 today alone and 50 over yesterday and today. At early afternoon the temperature was 7.5 degrees. I can't get used to these dramatic weather swings. Glad to be learning from indoors! Nothing to do today but eat and read. Life is not too tough down under.
January 9, 2004
Bronte Park to Miena, Tasmania
29 km today / 498 km to date (in 2:38)
After a giant breakfast in the old but renovated chalet building, we cycle out of Bronte Park Village (which was another construction village established by the Hydro Electric Commission in the 1940s. I suppose we've been staying in what was once someone's home.) Its a nice easy day -- although its a gravel road and there's lots of uphill in climbing to the Central Plateau, there are very few cars (1 every 5 minutes or so). Most pull a trailer or boat since this is major fishing territory -- especially trout. If its the Central Plateau, its either hydro or fishing.
As we climb, the flora changes again to larger, older eucalyptus spaced far apart, so there's ground cover and light. And as we crest the plateau at 1050m, there are broad expanses of 3-foot erica, mountain lakes and eucalpytus stands in the distance. It seems windswept and barren -- but I expect that's due primarily to the unseasonably cold weather.
Today we met two cyclists from Darwin heading the other direction. We are the first cyclists they've met -- makes sense because the wind is usually from the northwest, so only goofballs like us try to do this trail south to north.
Our cabin overlooks Great Lake about 400 metres away -- its cozy drinking tea and thinking about those frozen fishermen out there.
January 10, 2004
Great Lake, Miena to Poatina
59 km today / 557 km to date (in 3:53)
Our prefab cabin groaned in the wind that never stops around here, but no trees collapsed upon us. In the morning, our first "in-the-wild-wallaby-sighting" -- a little guy out grazing on the lawn. This place is so windswept, the roads are dirt, that if it weren't for trees it would remind me of my time in Iqaluit last fall.
The wind continued today; I clocked it at 35 - 42 kph -- great for the short time it was a tailwind, tough the rest of the time. Then it got rainy and cold as well, hardly the stuff that fun is made of. Since it didn't look like it would clear -- although the weather systems still change every fifteen minutes -- we defaulted into "go for it" -- as if there was really any choice! Tony had told us that eucalyptus branches don't grow from the centre of the tree. Instead, particularly after a fire, new branches start growing out the side. It means the wood doesn't have knots. It also means they're not strongly attached. Hence, there are a lot of branches on the eucalyptus forest floor. I had visions of the process taking place right over our very heads. What fun we have!
The redeeming feature of the ride is the interesting vegetation. Short tress, few taller than 25 feet, but big trunks and gnarled tops with few leaves. A ground cover of interesting heathers. Unlike anything we have in Canada and unlike anything at lower elevations in Tasmania. We're clearly in a different clime on the Central Plateau and each km is interesting. There's not much traffic; even though there's forestry going on, we are passed by only about five logging trucks (sporting trunks of 2 foot diameter). The mountain lake areas are uninhabited, the lakes themselves clean and beautiful. We find three echidnas in the "wilds". There are interesting big rocks and boulders, where most of Tasmania is dirt and fields. I still wish it would quit raining and warm up!
There are reminders everywhere that the Central Plateau has been a goldmine for Tasmania Hydro. All around the edge of the plateau, taking advantage of the sudden elevation drop, are power stations. Lakes are enlarged, areas flooded, rivers diverted, canals constructed. We pass Pumphouse Bay, intake station signs. Its so windy on this island we can't figure why wind power isn't a natural. There is certainly enough transmission system marching across the landscape. Must be the 1950s investment in hydro infrastructure that was common at the time.
Before hypothermia sets in, we reach the edge of the plateau and, leaving the clouds behind, begin the descent down into the Midlands. The view is stunning -- one of those great panoramas looking out over rolling hills toward the sea. We coast in the increasing warmth right to Poatina.
This is one very strange town. It was a hydro town -- there's a pattern here -- that once had 3,000 houses. Most were demolished after construction of the dams associated with the plateau was complete. The area now has a scruffy unused golf course. About 60 houses remain, along with a hotel, school, community centre, store and gas station -- along with community infrastructure suitable to a much larger place -- like two 25-metre pools. The town has been taken over by a group called Fusion, dedicated to youth works. They offer job training and other youth support. The town is dry, an unusual concept when they're trying to build tourism. But the weird thing is that absolutely everyone is so friendly and so, so encouraging. Reception, waiters, everyone. They are so friendly and chatting and cheerful and helpful that its like a scene from Pleasantville. Next time I wonder why the world can't be filled with nicer people I'll remember this!
A waiter at the hotel had cycled to Hobart in one day, a distance that has taken us six days. Maybe that's why I want to leave Pleasantville!
The fire we saw on the other side of the hill when we were in Port Arthur flared up with the wind of the last few days and 80 campers were evacuated. Nothing changes.
January 11, 2004
Poatina to Fingal
115 km today / 672 km to date (in 5:51)
The Midlands are rural beauty. Grazing land, hay, rolling hills, tailwind, sheep, sheep and more sheep. We had to stop at a community swap market because there was a sign for tools. More weird ducks in this place -- and more old chisels, planes and junk -- than one would want to boast about.
The Fingal Hotel has a few elements of history -- 1830s convict built, for example -- but in most respects is just the hangout for the locals (pop 380). They're bumpkins and proud of it. The owner bought the place four years ago because it was 1/3 the price of what he would have had to pay in his hometown of Perth, West Australia -- and Perth is cheap!
January 12, 2004
Fingal to Bicheno
83 km today / 755 km to date (in 4:43)
Our ride through the Midlands country continued. Zipping along golden grazing land, watched by 2,000 pairs of sheep-eyes, around a corner and another 2,000 pairs of sheep-eyes. Its hard to believe the world can use this many sheep -- and we haven't been to New Zealand yet.
I've talked Brent into the longer (by 14 km) scenic route because it includes St. Mary's pass (built by convict labour in the 1800s -- another pattern) and 22 extra kilometers of coastline. Unfortunately, most of the "coast ride" is inland, so I have to suffer through a running commentary for 22 kms about "stunning acacia views" and "tantalizing ocean glimpses". But he's not bitter. The coast we do see is low rock, small surf, long sandy beaches -- gorgeous.
It's strange to be riding on the "wrong" side of the road and strange to be heading south with the coastline on our left -- two wrongs almost make it seem right!
After passing through St. Mary's and upon nearing the coast, there is a roar coming up the valley. It sounds like a very big transport truck in low gear coming up the hill. Then we realize it must be crickets? Frogs? I never do see them, even though the racket continues off and on for the 50 kms along the coast (ok - sort of along the coast) to Bicheno. Brent assures me they are cicadas and, when trying to point them out, says they look like blue beans with translucent wings flying through the air. It has been hot.
Bicheno (pop 700) is an unabashedly holiday seaside resort town with beaches that are beautiful although too windy to hang out at and lots of restaurants, cabins, trailer parks, etc. The town has made the most of its natural setting and is a rendezvous point for nearby National Parks. We are disappointed when we can't get accommodation at Coles Bay near Freycinet National Park -- reported to be the most beautiful in Tasmania -- but have decided to use Bicheno as our staging point, so will be here three days. There are worse places to hang out! Dinner at Neptune Restaurant -- best food yet.
For some reason, a lot of penguins nest along this coastline so, at dusk, we set out to the blowhole, near which many come ashore to waddle to their burrows. This is the worst kept secret in the area and soon we are joined by about 50 other people. We wait, and wait. Sundown, dusk, its now dark. We amuse ourselves by studying the stars which are so bright in Australia. Just as people are about to give up, someone spots the white blur of the penguins' stomachs in the darkness. Sure enough, four penguins march past just two metres away. There is a great hush -- its quite a moment.
Some folks on the other side are very excited. They rush toward one of the penguins, try to take their picture with it, surround it. They are very pleased and probably mean no harm, but speak no English so can't be asked to back away. People are upset, start yelling "Get out of the way" "Quit being a jerk" and worse. The penguin must be terrified. And the magic has passed; we leave quietly.
January 13, 2004
Lazing in Bicheno
A lazy day. Walked the foreshore trail which is full of penguin burrows, enjoying the sun and clambering along rocks at the shore, although its only about one km long. Sunny, fresh wind, relaxing.
Drinking water is a special commodity in many parts of Tasmania. Bruny Island, Port Arthur, some places along the plateau all use rain water in huge tanks alongside the homes -- sometimes two or three tanks hooked together. Many other places, such as Bicheno, have boil water advisories this time of year. Everything will ease up after the summer season.
We had dinner at Sea Life Centre -- overpriced but great view looking over the bay. Its a great location to watch the penguins, too, but the owners don't want to compete with the folks who run the penguin tours. Its a small town and its important to be neighbourly, they explain to the folks at the next table. So they turn the outdoor spotlights off at about 9:30. No matter. We've got our flashlights and warm clothes, so head back to the foreshore trail. We saw an 8" critter that looked like a big mouse-marsupial last night, but that's it for recent critter sightings. Tonight, though, surely we'll see penguins, given all those burrows we saw earlier.
The sky gets dark. I set up a watching post along the trail, Brent sets up on the rocks. We can hear the early approachers calling and Brent sees their outline against the horizon. We're dead still. It gets quiet and quieter. There's not a sound aside from the surf. Half an hour later we have to admit the penguins have eluded us once again. Hundreds of burrows and we can't spot one penguin.
As we walk back toward our caravan park, we cross paths with a young couple who can't believe we haven't seen a penguin. They are everywhere, they tell us. They lead us toward one burrow and a penguin hisses at us. They lead us to another, we shine our torch in and a penguin rustles trying to get out of the light. Somehow this doesn't seem sporting, either. Home we go.
January 14, 2004
Day trip to Coles Bay, Freycinet National Park
Because we couldn't find a place to stay in Coles Bay we took a shuttle the 38 km drive through a quiet, beautiful road to Freycinet (FREE-ZINN-AY) National Park. The township has a population of 180, so that explains why accommodation is limited.
The park is not particularly large, and is well used so is not quiet. But it is a stunner. Its on a peninsula with only one access point, so away from the trailhead the foot traffic thins out. There are loads of trails throughout the park, all through beautiful scenery, ranging from an hour to several hours to overnight treks. Wineglass Bay is a long protected sandy beach, Hazards Beach is more exposed to a brisk wind and there are a number of mountains, some climbable, all providing great visuals. The Hazards, three peaks side-by-side, are high pink granite. We did the 5-hour Wineglass Bay/Hazard Beach circuit and, as usual, dawdled so much that we nearly missed the last shuttle home. It was so scenic and there were so many backpackers who looked anything but fit and who obviously survived a night or two in the wilderness that Brent is mumbling about taking up back-packing. Only time will tell. Maybe right after the Ironman...
The weather is best at this National Park of all the parks, the ocean is the blue of postcards and, were it not for the near-carnivorous march flies (Tassie for horse or deer fly) it would be about perfect. A good place to return for two days.
Saw five cyclists today -- the company is increasing.
Dinner at Mary Harvey's Restaurant in Bicheno. Best food yet. If only I could cook, I'd try to copy: 1" pan-baked polenta, with a thick basil sauce adorned with a bit of grated parmesan -- lots of steamed veggies alongside. Great.
January 15, 2004
Bicheno to Swansea
45 km today / 800 km to date (in 2:51)
Today's road took us back inland along sheep-land, one ridge (175m), walnut orchards, vineyards, and more sheep-land, back to Swansea on the coast. There was no wind -- didn't know this could happen -- but that brought the flies out. Some girls there's just no pleasing.
Swansea is another popular seaside town with a lovely (but windy) beach. Although the population is only 500, the town is geared up for the summer holiday-makers with lots of hotels, B&Bs, and restaurants. Tasmania is full of tubby people -- more per capita than I've ever seen -- so the restaurants do a hopping business. Deep-fried is in -- and even the best restaurants offer french fries with everything: veal marsala and chips; T-bone and chips; veggies and chips. You'd think there'd be fewer sheep and more potato farming.
Three hundred short-tailed shearwater nest in burrows along part of the Swansea shoreline when they are not doing their 15,000 km migration to the Arctic or feeding in the Antarctic. Amazing birds. Brent went out at dusk to spot a few -- torch in hand -- and returned to tell me he'd seen lots -- they are everywhere. Of course, that's what they said about the penguins, too!
Doing a little bike maintenance, Brent noticed he's worn right through the rubber of this rear wheel. All that weight on the back, he says. What can one say in response? Cleverly I kept quiet.
January 16, 2004
Swansea to Orford
58 km today / 858 km to date (in 3:37)
Cycling doesn't get better than this! A lot of the time along the ocean, other times sheep grazing; 22 degrees, gentle wind and gentle terrain. Although the vegetation is less interesting, the cycling conditions are superb. And Brent can't go too fast in case he blows his deteriorating tire, so we dawdle. We passed seven touring cyclists, one roadie, 2 supported touring cyclists -- we're all out today! (Two of the cyclists had rented fully-equipped bikes for five weeks from Ray Appleby Cycles -- our friends in Hobart. At $390 for 5 weeks, that's a great option.)
Our room in Orford looked out at Maria (MAR-EYE-AH) Island, an interesting-looking uninhabited National Park, which you get to via a ferry at Triabunna, 9 km north. Looks like its worth a visit, although it was shrouded in cloud in what elsewhere was a clear day.
January 17, 2004
Orford to Hobart, Tasmania
66 km today / 924 km to date (in 4:46)
Miserable day to finish our ride. Two 300-metre ridges, drizzling rain which took about 10 minutes to soak us, 40 km headwind. And here we were trying to get to Hobart airport by noon to pick up a car, get bike boxes (now that we're afraid of Quantas) and dismantle the bikes, etc. since our flight tomorrow is at 6:00 a.m. Whose idea is this cycling thing, anyway?
We couldn't find a room anywhere in Hobart so went back to the tourist office to get a booking. It was mayhem -- 20 people in line, staff not finding rooms. The only thing on offer was over $300 (although the bathtub had jets)! What's going on in Hobart? Or did all the campers decide to get out of the rain? Fortunately, because we have a car today and can stay the other side of the airport, we were able to book at one of our earlier stops -- Sorell. And by now it is pouring rain. All of a sudden cycling doesn't seem so bad -- weren't we clever to tough it out this morning and just beat the drenching squalls by an hour.
Tony joined us at an Internet cafe for a couple of hours to sip latte and exchange war stories. As we talked, we were reminded of all the good times and places and people. What a great way to close the chapter on Tasmania and get ready for New Zealand!
TRIP SUMMARY AND LOGISTICS
Tasmania is a great place to cycle -- next to France probably the best we've been to date. Would work well with a group as well. Good cycling, good places to stay, sometimes good food, always lots of it. Extensive road network, good road conditions, courteous drivers, few trucks unless you're on Highway 1, light traffic away from Hobart and Highway 1, warm but not too hot. It is hilly, though, so a reasonable fitness level or a good support vehicle is required if its not to be a grind. We saw an average 2 - 4 cyclists a day, none from Tasmania except the roadies. Midlands are a must because they are the only level place and therefore encouraging; the Poatina, East Coast, Orford section. The Central Plateau is tough going and the weather is the pits but it really shouldn't be missed for its unique vegetation.
The scenery is great and varied, surprisingly so for an island this size. Coastal lands, hills, mountains, rainy areas; on a bike there's a lot of variety in short distances. There is great tourist literature so its easy to do on your own. Must haves are the "Travelways" newsheet which lists every last accommodation option in Tasmania -- including single unit B&Bs -- and the "60 Great Short Walks" brochure, both available at any one of the very friendly and helpful tourist info offices.
Tasmania is a bit expensive for such a rural area -- but reasonably-priced overall. Camper rentals are very high, maybe $250 or $300 per day in the high season and most basic rooms are in the $80 - 100 range. Outside December to February I hear its cheap, but I think it would be too chilly to be much fun. Meals: Lunch is $15, dinner is $20 - $25, excluding beverages. On the other hand, caravan parks are bargains and there is so much outdoor activity during the day that aside from meals, accommodation and transportation, no one spends much.
We saw a lot. Bruny Island and the East Coast are great seaside spots. Many of the towns have nicely preserved historic (1800s) buildings. There are lots of National Parks with great hikes for all levels. People are friendly and its easy to get around. Most significantly, the vegetation and animals are so incredibly different from anything we have (or anything the rest of the world has, for that matter) that its a tremendously absorbing place.
I had thought this might one day be a good wintering place for us. Its not. Interesting as it is, its too small for a lifetime of winter seasons. But another month or two to see the West Coast, to spend more time in the Central Plateau and to hike the National Parks and/or another bike trip would be mighty fine -- as long as its between November and February. In combination with a trip to Australia, Indonesia or the South Pacific, I suspect we'll be back.
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