Sunday 17th March dawned bright and cold. It’s been crazy weather ever since we arrived in Tasmania. Last Tuesday it was 39 degrees, today it barely reached 10 degrees. At least it wasn’t raining as we set off. First stop was the apple museum at Huonville. Kim’s mum, Molly, picked apples in Kent as a youngster and seeing the orchards, apple sorting and coring machinery, and examples of traditional apple varieties brought back many memories. John too had stories of childhood scrumping in and around the Kent orchards – but we won’t go into that!
Then it was on to Dover on the Huon River. We’d been hoping to catch up with Dick and Pat. Dick and Mike knew each other back in the late 60s and 70s when Mike’s main hobby was sailing and Dick was building his boat. Dick and Pat set sail from the UK some fourteen years ago and have been enjoying life around the world ever since. But first it was lunch in the old post office, now a restaurant with a superb fire blazing away as the autumn chill reached the southern latitudes.
After lunch everyone made it safely on board the yacht Irene, where Dick kept everyone amused with tales long and short, of nautical mishaps and adventures whilst Pat miraculously produced tea and cakes from her galley.
We returned to Hobart via the picturesque coast road, and completed the evening with yet another Guinness – well, it was St Patrick’s Day.
We’d wondered how the convicts coped when they first set foot on Van Diemans Land in the early 1800s. To find out more we visited Port Arthur, a penal station established in 1833 for repeat offenders from all the other penal settlements in Australia – in other words, the worst of the worst. We found the place to be fascinating, not at all what we imagined. Port Arthur pioneered rehabilitation and whilst some men were broken, many left as skilled artisans. However, life must have been extremely tough, but one wonders how it would have compared with their bleak lives in England where many of their ‘crimes’ were born of desperation.
The drive back took us through acres and acres of burned forest. The recent bush fires had taken their toll and the smell of burning remained in the air. Not only trees and livestock were lost, but homes too. It was sobering to see the damage caused and the evidence of lost property and livelihoods.
John and Molly returned to Brisbane and the X-Trail was returned to the hire company. Kim, Mike and Vin Rouge hit the road once again. Actually, they retraced their route and spent a couple of delightful days with Dick and Pat aboard Irene. They agreed that there’s no better way to relax than to be on a boat. A gentle motor up the river to shop for a few provisions managed to take most of the day. Bliss!
Vin Rouge was overdue for a service and whilst that was being done we took the catamaran ferry to MONA – the Museum of Old and New Art in Hobart. Now we’re not entirely art philistines, but do consider that art should be inspiring and the artist at least somewhat talented. Let it be said that we were unimpressed and renamed it the Museum of Obscene and Naff Artifacts, a triumph of hype over substance. Nuff said? However, the boat ride was pleasant.
It rained most of the day and most of the night. And it did the next day and the day after that, and the day after that. Camping in a roof top tent is fine and we’ve adapted well. But too many days of rain start to become tedious – and damp. However, in the true British wartime spirit, we ‘carried on and had a cup of tea’. Frequently. Sometimes the tea was replaced with something a little stronger.
Still, we made it to Strahan on the west coast of Tasmania. The route, part of which was over a narrow unmade road, made for interesting and challenging driving. The scenery, when it was visible, was stunning. Tree covered mountains, streams and waterfalls, giant ferns and a plethora of plants we’d not seen before.
We managed a couple of walks and discovered an interesting bridge that just demanded a photo.
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