We had a fast run back to Melbourne stopping a couple of
times for the essential caffeine top up and then collected the special washers
from Ritters, made our way to the docks and boarded the Spirit of Tasmania II
ready for the nine pm sailing to Devonport.
Once Vin Rouge was secured below we made our way to our cabin, dumped
our gear and progressed to the restaurant.
We’ve found on the UK cross channel ferries that it’s usually worth
going to the restaurant in favour of the canteen. The food is better, there’s waiter service,
it’s relaxing and only marginally more expensive. The Bass Strait proved to be the same. However, Kim called me a snob as she perused
the wine list.
An excellent dinner was followed by a tolerably good night
on the relatively smooth crossing. The
Bass Strait can be one of the roughest passages but on this night it was
relatively calm, just a swell of a couple of metres.
We headed south towards Hobart. Arriving at the small town of Ross, we stopped
by a bridge that had been built by convicts in 1838. Not quite the oldest bridge in Australia but
pretty close. So well was the stone masonry
executed that two of the convicts were granted their freedom on its completion.
We’d noticed a smell of diesel. A look under the bonnet confirmed that there
was indeed a fuel leak and it was getting worse. As we’d stopped for a mid morning cuppa by
the bridge, I thought it a suitable time to do the fix. In a shady spot next to the river, out came
the tools and the washers were changed. However,
the leak was now ten times worse. After
some poking around and removing various bits, it became apparent that metal
fatigue had affected one of pipes and it was full of small hairline cracks, all
of which were leaking. This was turning
into a bit of a problem. After a cuppa
and a think, the pipe was wrapped tightly with some special tape that I’d
bought in a moment of weakness at a show.
Given that the pipe was of a small diameter and miraculous claims at
shows are not always reliable, I had some doubts. However, the ‘bush fix’ worked and stayed in
place for the next three days until we could obtain a new part in Hobart.
Finding a delightful spot at Port Huon we set up camp on the
banks of the river and watched the sun go down over the water.
Half a dozen wrens were flitting about nearby, one of which
was particularly keen on picking up any crumbs we might have dropped and seemed
completely unafraid as it pottered about around our feet.
Our next camp was close to the small town of Richmond. One of the earliest settlements it looks much
like an English village with it church spire, small shops, village green and
ducks on the river. Richmond boasts the
oldest bridge in Australia, built in 1823, again using convict labour. Nothing like as elegant as the Ross bridge,
it does have a rustic charm with few straight lines due to movement over the
years. They must have done a good job on
the build for it’s still standing and taking modern day traffic.
The rest of our day was spent in Hobart where we were
especially taken with the paintings on a Veterinary Hospita.
Bush fires had broken out and as the sun faded we could see
the red glow and smoke on the distant hills.
We watched the helicopters dumping water but they became unnecessary as
the evening turned to gentle rain.
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