Goodbye to Tasmania

We arrived at a place called ‘Penguin’.  Why it’s called that we don’t know.  There didn’t seem to be any real live penguins around and the “Penguin Primary School’ was full of small humans.  However, we did find some plastic penguins and Kim liked this one.

Tasmania is not a huge island.  It’s about the size of Ireland but has more mountains.  Vin Rouge climbed quite a few of them, grinding away in second gear, twisting and turning through hairpin bends, rising higher and higher, the views becoming ever more splendid.  Then quite suddenly a peak is reached and the climb becomes a descent.  By hanging on to the lower gears through more twists and turns we hold down the speed until again the views change to undulating dairy farming country along the valley floors or a lake formed by a dam that provides electrical power in addition to drinking water and recreational activities.  

It’s quite hard work hauling almost two and a half tons around all the bends but periodic stops to enjoy the view (and for Kim to take yet more photos) makes it all worthwhile.

We enjoyed three days of mountain scenery with delightful camping sites.  How’s this for a view over the morning cuppa?

The final couple of days in the island state we spent on the coast at the Bay of Fires, so named on Cook’s voyage of discovery from the number of aboriginal camp fires in the area.  

We can confirm that the sea really is this colour of blue.

That Kim enjoyed the blue of the sea and the whiteness of the sand is evident.  We walked the entire length of the beach, and back again – and that was quite enough exercise for one day.

Our last day and we visited Evansdale where we perused a surprisingly large market and checked out the statue commemorating what has become and annual event of penny-farthing bicycle races.  Quite why these aces occur is all very curious and we did not manage to find any real answers.

Kim had been hoping to spot a platypus in the wild and although we’d done a great deal of searching, the evasive little critters were not cooperating.  Her last chance was at Latrobe, where we made enquiries about all the most likely places where a platypus might hang out.  We walked and looked, and looked and walked, all to no avail.  However:

OK, you work it out!

As the sun faded the temperature dropped. Our last night’s camp by the sea at Devonport was definitely cold so we reverted to our ‘in-tent central heating facility’ – a hot water bottle. Early next morning we were woken by a blast from the ferry’s horn as it arrived.  We packed up in the dark and joined the queue of vehicles waiting to be loaded onto Spirit of Tasmania II.  Directed to a lower deck well below the waterline, we parked and made our way to the passenger deck to find a corner for the nine hour trip.

And so with fond memories we left Tasmania behind.  In four weeks we had seen a lot of lovely countryside, met some very kind and interesting people and sampled some Tassie food (the cheeses are excellent).  But it was time to say goodbye and return to the Australian mainland.

Melbourne and a date with Ritters, the Land Rover specialist, beckons.