Bay of Fires and Inland

We woke up in the Freycinet Golf Club campground to a frost. Not a major one, but a surprise after a week of pleasant, warm weather. The fine coating of ice on the windscreen quickly evaporated and coffee restored us to a comfortable temperature.

We set off to the North in our almost-new rented camper. Hardly more than 40,000km on the odometer. It was keyless ignition and a digital dashboard (“dashscreen”?). Very modern. This morning it demonstrated another feature – a warning sound. The first few times we saw nothing on the dashscreen to enlighten us. Then there was a flicker from the driving data to something else, but it was too quick to see what it was. The sounds became more frequent and finally the signal lasted long enough to see that the flicker was to illustrate that the side door was open. Only it clearly wasn't. As we drove through Bicheno the sounds became a regular torrent and the dashscreen constantly showed the vehicle outline with the side door lit up bright red in the open position.

The local petrol station came into view, where we planned to stop for fuel anyway. Bill pulled in and, his mind dulled by the beeping, pulled up by the pumps. We had to 'phone the rental company help number and might be some time. The man at the cash register was helpfulness itself. He had a parking space that we could occupy “for as long as it takes”. In the event, it was quite a short telephone call. If we shut the door really firmly the sensor would be satisfied. So for the rest of the trip we had to slam that door as hard as we could to be able to travel in peace.

Tasmanian pronunciation. Did you, in your head, pronounce Bicheno with a “ch” sound? So did we at first. The correct way to say it is Bish-a-no. And the island's 2^nd city, Launceston is pronounced Lon-sess-ton. It helps to get these things right.

Pleasantly surprised by the fuel economy of our chariot we continued North. A road sign showed our destination, Saint Helens, straight ahead. Saint Marys (the apostrophe abuse is copied from the towns' names) to the left. We opted to have a look at St. Marys. After all, we are tourists.

This was our first experience of what Tasmania can provide by way of narrow, winding roads when it puts its mind to it. Elephant Pass Road is an 'A' road – the A4 – and sealed for all 17km, but with scores of yellow diamond-shaped signs recommending very slow speeds for the forthcoming bend(s). Some of them particularly warn long vehicles. So it was with great care that Bill steered round hairpin bend after hairpin bend. Happily, we didn't meet any long vehicles coming the other way. By the time we got to St. Marys a coffee was sorely needed.

Saint Marys is a small town, but it has a bakery. A deservedly popular spot serving excellent coffee and very toothsome snacks. Compensation for the tiring drive to get there.

The way on towards St. Helens, the Esk Highway, is kinder to the driver's blood pressure, but not by any means a straight and level road. From signs we saw we suspect that it is the other side of Elephant Mountain, but our maps do not name the geological features of the area.

St. Helens is a base for exploring the Bay of Fires. The bay was given its name in 1773 by Captain Tobias Furneaux, who saw the fires of Aboriginal people on the beaches. The Bay is a region of white beaches, blue water and orange-hued granite (the colour of which is actually produced by a lichen). Much of it was out of reach to us, since the rental company restricts the use of unsealed roads.

It was only a short drive to Binalong Bay, where there is a gorgeous beach.

Very pleasing to the eye, don't you think?

Plenty of space for everyone.

Lovely!

Compare the colour of the sand to a white bird (a Silver Gull).

Some of the orange rocks.

Some more.

And even a rock pool.  The complete beach!

A stranded jellyfish on the sand.  There was one swimmer enjoying the water and he was too far out to tell him of our find.  He returned to shore unscathed.  Maybe we stumbled on a vagrant, solo cnidarian.

This osteospermum made a nice subject for a photo.

Time for lunch.

Back in the town we shopped for supplies. The prices in the Bottle-O liquor store caused great dismay until we discovered that many of them were for 2 or even 3 bottles. The store manager helped us with inexpensive wine and valuable local information. The most important was that our map was out of date in respect of the road to The Gardens. The road is now sealed and we can freely drive our vehicle along it.

So next morning we enjoyed a 2^nd instalment of the Bay of Fires.

The road to The Gardens is always close to the sea, without offering particularly good views. There are stopping places, but they looked rather sandy and not perhaps spots to park a large, heavy camper van. At least there was grass to park on at The Gardens, while we admired the area.

That just-above-the-water reef in the background must be a menace to boaties.

More rocks than sand here.

A nice view.

And another.

Beautiful scenery is never boring

An immature Silver Gull foraging at the water's edge.

To avoid the forbidden unsealed roads we had to drive all the way back to St. Helens before heading inland to Pyengana. Sorry, we don't know how to pronounce it. We got there at lunch time and happily there was a cafe. And there was a Scarlet Robin, but it flew away before we could pick up a camera.

The cafe was attached to a small cheese making business, so we not only had nice lunches but we also tasted and purchased some very nice cheese.

From Pyengana we headed to St. Columba Falls. We went past, but did not stop at, the Pub in the Paddock. It really is in a paddock and offers lunches, dinners most evenings and bed & breakfast. As well as being unattached to a town or village, which is rare for a pub, it offers the unusual entertainment of a beer-drinking pig. 

An information board at the Falls tells, “Mrs Terry, the valley midwife in the late 1800s, led by example and had 15 children of her own. Her six sons were more interested in drinking beer than farming, so they simply licensed their homestead! And so, in 1900 the Columba Falls Hotel, now known as The Pub in the Paddock, was born. The Terrys seem to have taken care of the social life in the valley. They not only converted their house into a hotel, but also their barn into a dance hall and picture theatre for Saturday nights. The venue must have had an interesting smell as the Terrys' pigs slept under the barn's floorboards and had to be chased out before dances could commence.”

The track to the Falls was only about 10 minutes and Eve managed it without much protest from her hip. The Falls are billed as the highest in Tasmania, but if you are looking for a mini-Niagara you will be disappointed. However, the track through the bush is most enjoyable.

The track to the Falls.

A stream beside the track.

Tree ferns are sometimes called man ferns in Tasmania.

St Columba Falls

Waterfall spray.

Our destination for the night was Northeast Park in Scottsdale. It's actually Southeast of the town centre but it is not named for geography. It's named after a Mr Northeast, who gave the land. The description we had was of a pleasant campground with toilets, adjacent to water where platypus may be found. No fee, but donations are solicited.

It's a popular site, of course, but we got there in time to select an easy place to park, and to help latecomers to identify vacant spots that would not annoy established campers. Bill took a camera to the adjacent water and was soon in conversation with other bird photographers. There were plenty of ducks, none of whom looked quite like the birds in the field guide. Bill's theory is that they are hybrids between mallards and domestic ducks, which after a few generations can look like pretty much anything.

Mixed ducks.

A duck with Muscovy in its ancestry?

Nothing like a good wing-stretch.

There was an information board to inspire hope that platypuses might reside in the area. 

After sunset we both went to look for one, but without success.

Port Arthur to Freycinet

Bill got quite excited in the morning after our first night in the camper van. There were wrens in the campground. At first he thought they had the sparse, almost ragged tails of an emu-wren, but closer inspection showed they were fairy-wrens. In Tasmania that means they must be Superb Fairy-wrens. In Spring the males would have been decked with intense blue feathers on the head and back, but March is well past the breeding season and there were no remnants of their courting finery.

There were plenty of other birds, filling the campground with morning song. But these generally avoided detection and, if detected, identification.

The New Holland Honeyeater was an exception, being both observed and identified.

You can spend a lot of time at the Port Arthur Historic Site. In fact, the admission is for two days if you want them. We didn't walk around all the buildings. We elected to go on the “Convict Tour”. The guide pointed out all we wanted to know about the buildings and grounds, and told us about the treatment of the prisoners. The rations for men expected to do heavy labouring were not nearly adequate.

The main building was a flour mill before it was part of the prison. Many of the buildings have been demolished or renovated since the convicts left, so it is hard to get an accurate picture of what the settlement was like.

The admission includes a boat trip around the harbour, with a good commentary and a close-up view of the island used as a cemetery.

The sunset was even more gorgeous on our second evening at the White Beach Campground.

The Unzoo

What is an unzoo? The definition on its website is, “A place where the public learns about wild animals, plants and ecosystems through interaction with and immersion in natural habitats.” One person described it to us as a place where the animals are wild and the humans are in a cage, but that is a bit fanciful. The website is here.

The Tasmanian Devils and Kangaroos are captive. Like Bonorong, the Unzoo breeds disease-free devils. Other animals and birds are indeed wild and are attracted by encouraging them to forage in the grounds. In other words, they are fed!

We managed to time our visit for a lecture on Tasmanian Devils. We learned that, for their weight, they have the strongest bite of any animal. One of them willingly demonstrated this at feeding time. Another factoid: a female devil can give birth to 40 infants at a time, but they are marsupials and the pouch only has 4 teats. What a way to treat 36 of your kids!

Do not hand-feed this critter!

After the lecture there was bird feeding. Banging on a metal frame told the local avians that lunch would shortly be served and we all sat down on tiered seats. The guide poured seeds into our hands and Green Rosellas flocked to accept the handout.

The Little Wattlebirds are nectar feeders so they are provided with sugar water and do not come to your hand.

The other feeding sites were not spectacular. There were two Cape Barren Geese and one pademelon when the feed pellets were scattered. 

Cape Barren Geese

A pademelon enjoying the feed pellets.

Eve scratching one of the very tame kangaroos.

Tasmanian Native Hens do not need encouragement. They just turn up. They run very fast and are known locally as turbo chooks.

It was becoming apparent that fairy-wrens are really quite common.

At the water it was a case of, “You should have been here yesterday.” We were buffeted by strong winds, which would put off any bird. The previous day there had been sea-eagles. Well, you can't win 'em all.

Eaglehawk Neck

The Tasman Peninsula is only just attached to mainland Tasmania. The neck really is very narrow and explains why there was a coast-to-coast fence guarded by fierce dogs in the convict days. The only way to get past it was to swim!

Around the neck there are some interesting rock formations and very picturesque scenery. There is also Doo Town. What started off as a collection of fishing cribs has grown to a village with some impressive homes between the holiday cottages and almost all of them have “Doo” somewhere in the name. Examples are Doo Not Disturb, Doo Nothing, and Doo Drop In.

This formation is known as Tasman Arch.

"The Blowhole"

The Doo-licious food cart.

After 2 nights at the lovely White Beach we enjoyed our first free camp. Ye Olde Buckland Inn has a large, level-ish field behind the buildings and allows free camping. There are public toilets adjacent, although we used the onboard cassette rather than making a midnight march to the concrete closets.

As a 'thank you' we decided to sample some local drinks at the inn. It wasn't what you would call elegant, but nor was it sawdust-on-the-floor-and-no-women-in-the-public-bar. The Tasmanian beer was very nice. Eve requested cider. Now Tasmania has many orchards and plenty of them advertise that they make cider. The inn's cider on tap was Monteiths from New Zealand! The explanation was that no Tasmanian cidery still offers its product in a keg. It's all bottled.

Other campers had the same idea, and I think we outnumbered locals in the bar. Eventually all six of us opted for a bar meal. The very limited menu was all something-and-chips, but I don't think anyone was disappointed with their food.

Freycinet National Park

If you were hoping for a description of Maria Island and its fauna you will be disappointed. We didn't go there. We didn't set out with the idea of going everywhere and doing everything and this was one of the spots we missed. Sorry.

The road to Freycinet goes past, not over, the Spiky Bridge. The bridge was part of the convict built coach road that connected Swansea with Little Swanport. Why it was decorated with these spiky pieces of rock is unknown.

At first glance it looks as though the road to Freycinet NP takes a large and unnecessary detour, but the land behind Nine Mile Beach doesn't quite reach the other side of Great Oyster Bay. The extensive waterways North of Nine Mile Beach (Pelican Bay, Moulting Lagoon, etc.) push you to the quirkily named Pondering Frog Cafe before you can turn right and head for the park.

The star attraction is Wineglass Bay, sometimes described as one of the top 10 beaches in the world. There is a full day walk that takes in the classic view of the bay, goes down to the beach itelf and returns via Hazards Beach. While some reviews rate the walk as “easy” they must be super-fit young people. The official rating is moderate, but our interpretation of the detail is “too bloody hard.” However, the walk to the lookout seemed do-able.

We checked with the information centre. There are 400 steps on the track uphill to the lookout (and at least 800 on the way down to the beach). Before setting off on the holiday we had both made an attempt to get fitter, but Eve's hips, especially the metal one, had been giving trouble that mere fitness could not overcome.

Behind the information centre is a short track to a pretty beach. On the way back we saw a small black and white bird with a bright red chest, a Scarlet Robin. The Nikon with the telephoto lens was back in the van. The picture we have confirms the ID, but it's too blurry to be worth including here. We saw another one a couple of days later but couldn't put our hands on any camera before it flew away. Curses!

Many people hike the tracks to and around Wineglass Bay so there is a large car park, with room for camper vans. We set off, both with our hiking poles. The track is well signposted, with estimated times to reach the lookout. Unfortunately, Eve's hip began to protest and she reluctantly made the sensible decision to turn back. Just around the next corner was the first 'flight' of steps.

A small sample of the 400 steps.

Bill carried on, with a few rests along the way. Clearly, he should get fitter! But he made it to the lookout in about the signposted time.

Proof that he made it! Bill at the lookout.

The view that makes it all worthwhile.

There was a much easier little walk around the Cape Tourville lighthouse.

This wallaby appeared in the car park at Cape Tourville lighthouse.  It seemed quite unconcerned by the human activity.

The visitor centre had information about the local campgrounds. The national park campground and the Big 4 commercial one were fully booked. There was a free campground at River and Rocks Road, but it is very small and was probably full. The Freycinet Golf Club allowed camping by the road and charged $10. That was our best bet.

We did have a hopeful look at River and Rocks Road, but it was indeed full. The golf club ground was a self check-in; they were very efficient about the money. Sites were numbered. There were no toilets or other facilities, but it was level ground, legal and other campers provided safety. All that we needed for a comfortable night.

On the Road

We picked up our camper van quite early. We had the bonus of being upgraded to a newer vehicle, but the disappointment of finding that the design didn't suit us as well as we had hoped. Never mind. It was relatively easy to drive, and that is important in Tasmania where many of the roads are quite narrow and winding.

We had taken our own TomTom satnav with us. It has performed well for us all over North America and England as well as in NZ, and a Garmin machine supplied with a rental car in Cape Town was a disaster, so we now always load the appropriate maps and take our own gear.

First stop was a supermarket for supplies. That got us sorted for food, but Australian supermarkets do not sell wine. Luckily there was a liquor store close by. The last time we visited Australia wine was cheaper than in NZ, but now the position has reversed. The difference isn't huge, but it was a disappointment.

We set off with only a very rough outline of an itinerary. Head to Port Arthur and get the depressing convict history done first, then proceed around the island in a counterclockwise direction. However, there was one destination that didn't conveniently fit this plan. The Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary is North East of Hobart and might be missed if we returned to Hobart from the West. So we went there first.

As well as breeding Tasmanian Devils, the sanctuary keeps small numbers of other native fauna, unwanted exotic pets and cares for injured wild animals. It also seems to be an effective magnet for rabbits and several species of birds.

Devils are extinct on the mainland and in Tasmania are plagued by the currently incurable devil facial tumour disease, a contagious cancer.  Bonorong is one of several organisations ensuring there is a disease-free pool to reintroduce to the wild if necessary.  We were told that scientists are pursuing several ideas, and the chances of eliminating the virus are now quite good.

The sanctuary's main effort is in breeding disease-free Tasmanian Devils.  They are the size of a small dog and although this one is trotting briskly around its enclosure they can't run fast.  They are scavengers rather than predators.

A close up.

The Forester Kangaroos are tame.  There are bins with food for them and they will eat from your hand.  The teeth look a bit intimidating, but they pick up the food with their lips.

Taking selfies with a kangaroo.

This is a caged Tawny Frogmouth.

A pademelon is the next size down from a kangaroo and a wallaby.  This individual is an albino.

A Blotched Blue-tongued Skink in the keeper's hands during a talk about its habits.

A Long-beaked Corella having a snack.

A Short-beaked Echidna ambling around its enclosure.

Several wild rabbits have found their way into the sanctuary for the free food.  They are a pest in Tasmania, just like in New Zealand.

Noisy Miners fly in and out of the sanctuary.

The Musk Lorikeets are very colourful but they didn't come close enough for a really good photo.

The camper van company very strongly recommended having a powered site for the first night. They offer a free app that helps locate campgrounds, petrol stations and other valuable services. The closest campground to Port Arthur seemed rather expensive, but White Beach was more reasonable and only 12 minutes drive from the historical site. It turned out to be a great choice; the best campground we used.

The campground was adjacent to the beach, which is truly white.  It faces West and we were treated to a lovely sunset.

Hobart

Although we had 3 nights in Hobart, we didn't do much conventional sightseeing.

The first part-day, after an early afternoon check-in, was mainly devoted to catching up on the sleep that we lost in NZ before setting off for the airport. 

In the evening we went out to familiarise ourselves with the local geography and find dinner. The motel was on Sandy Bay Road, and a short walk to the West found us surrounded by shops and cafes. As we were reading one of the menus a lady passing by strongly recommended the establishment. “I always get my takeaways here.” It was Asian fusion cuisine under the unsophisticated name, “Yummy Kitchen”. It was indeed yummy, and it captured our custom for all three dinners.

We can also recommend Daci & Daci Bakers for coffee that really hits the spot and memorable edibles. Their croque monsieur was especially awesome.

The motel was very shabby. It looked as though nothing but critical maintenance had been done since it was built. The stair carpets were worn through to the concrete in places. The bed was comfortable, the room was clean and the plumbing worked, so those essentials were covered. The Wi-Fi worked in the reception area but not in our room. These days good access to the Internet is also an essential, so this has to be regarded as a significant failing. There was no lift and our room was on the top floor, two levels above reception. Climbing all those stairs was healthy for us no doubt, but we didn't enjoy it.

The motel itself wasn't much, but it provided a fine view.

We think the building lit up in blue is a casino.

To our surprise, Bill's occasional employer contacted us. He wanted Bill's opinion on an unusual audit matter. To avoid huge international call charges Bill sat in the reception area and called back using Skype. Fortunately, the area was deserted so no confidential information could be accidentally revealed. At the same time Eve went out and bought an Australian SIM card so we could communicate with the world at reasonable cost.

We learned to get around on the buses. Passengers aged 70 or older get concessionary fares. Thank you, Hobart. The Botanic Gardens, though, are not convenient for bus travellers. You can get pretty near them on a bus from the city centre, but if you miss the stop the bus goes sailing over a huge bridge into East Hobart. And there's no corresponding stop in the other direction because it's a major arterial road. So we didn't visit the Botanic Gardens.

Hobart's big Saturday attraction is the Salamanca Market. As at the Nelson and Motueka markets you can find local produce, craft items of all sorts and various foods and drinks. But the Salamanca Market is very much bigger than Nelson and Motueka combined. It took a long time to amble up and down the street taking in what was on offer. The first stall we saw was selling nothing but “scallop sticks”. These were long kebab sticks with scallops and pieces of vegetables. We went back there at lunch time. They tasted as good as they smelled. Delicious! We also bought Heritage brand honey. It wasn't offered by a previously unknown relative, they just liked the word. And Eve was impressed by 3 pairs of merino socks for $30. They were men's sizes, so Bill will have warm toes this winter.

Much of Tasmania's history since European settlement is related to the convicts transported there. In Hobart there is the site and remains of the Cascades Female Factory, where women were incarcerated. We got there in time for a guided tour, Notorious Strumpets and Dangerous Girls. This not only explained life in the 'factory', but related the lives of 7 of the inmates. The title of the tour was rather misleading. They were unfortunate women rather than notorious.

The wall at the back is original.  The low, reddish walls are to illustrate the size of the rooms the women lived and worked in.

An extract from the list of babies born to the inmates.  Few of them lived beyond toddlerhood.

Getting to Tasmania

It wasn't, technically, a difficult journey but it was memorable nonetheless.  We drove to Christchurch and spent a couple of nights with Eve's brother and sister-in-law, Russell & Ivy.

For reasons beyond our ken, the airlines schedule flights from Christchurch to Australia very, very early in the morning. Ours was programmed to leave at 06:10. The Qantas web site was uncertain about what time we should arrive at the airport, so we telephoned the 0800 number for a human's opinion. “Between 2 and 3 hours before take-off.”

That gave us any time between 03:10 and 04:10. We opted for 03:30 and booked an Uber to pick us up from Russell and Ivy's house at 3:15am.

Set the alarm for 2:45? No, better make it 2:30. Bill has only recently bought himself a new 'phone so he sensibly tested the alarm function. It went off at the right time, but with such a feeble, whispered sound that wouldn't wake anyone. Much time was then devoted to adjusting settings and looking up advice on the Internet. More testing gave no better results. This was raising the tension levels for no good reason because Eve has a 'phone with a proven, reliable alarm.

But the tension levels had been raised and neither of us slept well. We estimate that each of us got an hour or so's sleep before giving up just after 2am. We were dressed and zipping up our cases well before 2:30. At the scheduled hour both 'phones delivered maximum volume wake-up calls. If they woke up Russell & Ivy as we feared, they were too kind to say so.

We were delivered to the airport in good time. Despite checking-in online and having printed boarding passes ourselves we had to queue and go through an old-style at-the-airport check-in. Apparently the online check-in is really only useful if you have no checked bags.

Up the escalator to departures to find that security screening only opens at 4:00am. At least we found somewhere to sit down. Because of all the Australia-bound flights there was a huge queue when processing began. As usual, Eve's artificial hip had to be explained when she walked through the 'door'. Then Bill's cabin bag was tagged for further investigation. To avoid packing batteries in his checked luggage he had removed them from a camera and put them in the cabin bag. Apparently there is a proper way to pack them. Luckily we found a workaround by jamming them all in his hearing aids container.

Beyond security there was roughly an hour and a half to wait, but at least there was coffee!

We set off on time. The 'plane climbed to cruising altitude and the seat belt signs were extinguished. At last, we could tilt the seat back and catch up on missed sleep. Except. When the seat back was tilted back the bit you sit on was moved forward. This jammed Bill's knees into the seat in front. It was the most uncomfortable aircraft seat he had encountered since a Lufthansa sector from Singapore to Frankfurt in 2011. Not quite as bad as South China Airways.

We tried to doze, but neither of us got any serious sleep.

At Melbourne the only contretemps was not realising sooner that we had to ascend to the departures level for our flight to Hobart. This we attribute to sleep deprivation. Christchurch had issued our boarding passes for this sector, and the checked bag tags had the necessary bar codes for Hobart so we only had to go to the bag drop. It was as easy as we had been promised. And at Melbourne Airport we had more coffee. Try to avoid this if you are ever at Tullamarine Airport. It was dreadfully expensive.

The 'plane to Hobart was another Qantas 737, with the same knee-destroying seating. We did not get even the catnap that we craved.

Hobart Airport is not a forgotten backwater with two flights a day. It even has direct international flights nowadays. Much busier than Nelson Airport. But it only has 2 baggage conveyors. When we arrived they were both busy with the bags of Virgin Australia flights that had the good sense to land just before we did. So the concourse was crammed with passengers from at least 3 large airliners. Eventually one of the boards signalled QF1005 and hundreds of annoyed Australians surged forward.

We recovered our big bags without incident. The issue now was that our motel didn't accept checking-in until 2pm and, despite 4 hours on the ground in Melbourne, it was still only about 1pm local time. Eve found a seat and guarded the luggage, while Bill went in search of the Uber pick-up point. No worries there. But the airport Wi-Fi didn't work outside the building and we needed to use it to request a ride.

Bother arriving early. We decided to go. The Uber was requested from inside the arrivals hall and we set off. Bill went ahead to hopefully get to the pick-up area before the Uber driver gave up on us. Eve followed as fast as her luggage would allow. It wasn't a dazzling example of efficiency, but we did make contact with the driver and we did get delivered to the Blue Hills Motel.

Never mind that it was before 2pm, we were checked-in immediately. There is much to criticise about the motel – maybe in another post – but it did provide a bed so we could lie flat, stretch out and get some sleep!