Gosh! Its time for more of my adventures already. Why so soon after the last ones? Well because my trip to Tasmania has furnished me with experiences abound with noteworthy escapades of course.
So if you are sitting comfortably I shall begin.
Saying goodbye to the Hotel Spencer and the other "long termers" I had got to know was harder than I had expected. This was partly due to the abruptness of my departure. You will recall from 'part 4' that I had originally intended to sail for Tasmania on the 20th but had at the last minute changed this to the 15th. Why? Well, having been generous enough to give my employers decent notice of my impending departure they unexpectedly rewarded my decency by giving me no work for my final week. So I dashed about town changing my arrangements in order not to be stuck in Melbourne with nothing to do besides spend the cash I had worked so hard to save.
So on the afternoon of the 15th I step off the tram in Port Melbourne and on to the huge ferry 'The Spirit of Tasmania'. The overnight voyage takes 14 hours and includes 2 pretty decent meals and dorm accommodation in the ships own hostel. The hostel section of the ship was right on the bottom (below the water level). Upon entering the dorm the first thing I noticed was how conspicuously narrow the beds were. Now if space were at a premium I would have understood but the room seemed to positively boast excess space, which no dormant passenger could have found a use for. Next on to explore the rest of the boat. I had a couple of hours to spare before dinner which gave me the chance to find the 2 bars, games arcade, poker machines and Tasmanian information center. Satisfied that I knew where I was I wandered back to the "Tiger Bar" where I discovered they sold Newcastle Brown Ale on tap. I can only assume that the locals enjoy the chance to sample some of the worlds more interesting brews.
And now for a brief aside. Since deciding to visit Tasmania I have of course been doing my homework on the place and something that I consider curious has come to my notice. I may have been the only one. I just don't know. But prior to visiting Australia if someone had asked me what creature I most associated with Tasmania I would without pause for thought have exclaimed "Tasmanian Devils!". Further to this, were this inquisitor to have asked for a second creature I would have fallen silently in to an extensive thought filled pause. Eventually having to admit to knowing of no others. So why am I telling you this? It is of course because there is another peculiarly Tasmanian beast, which I have found difficult to ignore. Difficult because on almost all things Tasmanian or related to Tassy appears a picture, characature or motif of the Thylacene. "The What?" I hear you ask. The Thylacine. Or as it is more commonly known the Tasmanian Tiger. There is naturally a pretty good reason why I had never heard of this stripy, predatory, dog like marsupial critter. It is the same reason you and I have never seen one in the zoo or on the telly. It is extinct, having been hunted to extinction by early European settlers. So why is it the veritable mascot of Tasmania? No idea.
Anyway back to the boat. Having passed a little more spare time in the 'Tiger bar' it was about time for dinner, so I headed for the restaurant. The selection of foods on offer on the buffet was excellent and varied although lacked the coordination that would have I piled my plate high with everything from German sausage to egg fried rice. When at last I retired I was pleased to discover that the inexplicably cramped sleeping furniture didn't hinder sleep as much as I had expected.
Next day I had breakfast and then headed for the outside deck of the ferry to peer in to the mist in the hope of spotting my destination isle. After half an hour of sheltering from the rain under a suspended life boat the coastline materialized and before long we were gliding towards Devonport. From the height and relative distance of my view point aboard the ferry the buildings on the islands edge appeared somewhat like a model village.
As I disembarked a torrential downpour started and so did the fun. I sat in the foyer of the ferry terminal staring out at the rain, watching as the only shuttle bus of the day left for town (on the other side of the river) without me. I had to wait for my luggage to be retrieved from the ferry and there had been a delay with the sniffer dog (checking for elicit apples again). Anyway once I was reunited with my backpack I fished from its depths my guide book in the hope of discovering another quick and dry way of getting in to town. "Ah hah!" I think. There is a small river ferry that runs nearby. So after deciding that the rain wasn't going to stop I heave on my pack and stride forth in to the wet. I wandered over to where it is supposed to be but there was no boat. The rain had now been joined by a howling wind so I hurried back to the terminal to check my map. It appeared that I had been in the right place so I was faced with the choice of going back again or forking out for a taxi. Given the price of a taxi I decided that I would give the boat a second try. I get back there and this time spot a boat on the other side of the river, so I settle in to a nearby shelter while I waited. I waited for about 10 minutes and it hadn't shown any sign of moving. Then a woman in a bright yellow rain mac turns up and stands by the jetty for a while in the rain. Still no movement. The woman then joined me in the shelter and informs me that the ferry normally comes across when the captain sees someone on the other side. However despite her having stood in plain view (and being bright yellow) the boat hadn't moved. Then all of a sudden it started moving off in the wrong direction. The woman theorised that it was going to get refueled and that this normally took about 15 minutes. So we wait. After a time another woman turns up (this time in a bright red mac) she suggests that the boat may be broken again, even though she was on it only hours earlier. Anyway after even more time goes by an old man turns up and the speculation continues until we all decide that the boat isn't coming back and share a taxi in to town.
Well I am now in town but it is still tipping it down and so I make a dash for shelter and try to work out where the taxi has dropped me. Anyway to cut the story short I eventually arrive at the hostel which is above "Molly Malones" Irish pub. Outside my dorm window was a flashing neon Leprechaun throwing gold coins from his crock above his head where it flashed "The Luck of the Irish".
It continued to rain hard for the rest of the day and due to the large number of holes in the hostel I was never far from the howling gale. Anyhow I admitted defeat for the day and got an early night (the first of many in Tasmania) in the hope that the weather forecasts were wrong and tomorrow would be dry.
Well I don't know if some of the "Luck of the Irish" had rubbed off on me or not but the morning greeted me with sunshine, blue sky and only a couple of clouds. Not wishing to miss out on what I suspected was only a temporary reprieve from the rain I set off for the neighboring town of Latrobe. Latrobe calls itself "The platypus capital of the world" and it was for just this reason that I was there. After a confusing encounter with a foreign woman in the tourist beuro I set off, map in hand to a local Platypus viewing area. As I wandered out of the town I got my first real view of rural Tasmania and it really is a gorgeous place. I had been told that it can look very like England and I could certainly see the parallel, although the palm trees did go some way to shattering the illusion. I wandered a few more k's along the road, the riverside track being impassable due to flooding caused by the recent rains. After a time I began to wonder if perhaps this flooding may have affected the usual habits of the Platypus and started to think I would not see one at all.
Moments later however I spot some movement in the river near the bank and did indeed feel both surprised and privileged to have at last seen a wild platypus. They are however a little camera shy.
And so, delighted to have succeeded in my days quest I continued on to explore a nearby forest reserve before dashing back to Latrobe as the afternoon rains settled in. The next day the weather was worse and I decided I was going to have to rearrange my trip around Tas' to suit the inclement conditions. It was a shame as much of what I wanted to do whilst there was 'out doorsy'. This wasn't helped by the knowledge that until the day I got to Tas' they had been having an early spring. Anyway I decided I would head for the cities where there would at least be something to do whilst I waited out the rains. Still hoping they might stop.
Tasmania's 2nd biggest city is Launceston. I hadn't planned to go there originally but it was a convenient city stop over on the way to Tassy's principal city Hobart. Once I arrived in Launceston my adventured started again. I started walking to where the hostel was (according to my guide book) but soon realised that I wasn't where I aught to be. A quick check of the map and some street signs told me that the position of the bus station on the map was different from where it actually was. So I work out where I am and set off again. I arrive at where the book said the hostel should be but it isn't there. Hmm... what now? So I rummage through my pack for a leaflet advertising another hostel and I set off all the way across town. When I finally get to this Irish pub/hostel I am told that the hostel section is being refurbished and is therefore closed. Fortunately (I suppose) I was pointed in the direction of another hostel that I was assured would be open. I got there just as night fell and was relieved to take my backpack off and to have shelter from the Tasmanian winter. This hostel also subscribed to the "bring the outside inside" theory and was as damp and draughty as the last one.
The morning was gray and threatened rain but regardless I set off to the areas main attraction, "Cataract Gorge". This was one place where the recent rains could be considered an advantage as the river was swollen and white-water rushed violently down the length of the gorge. I embarked on a two hour walk around the area, crossing the gorge on a bridge which once serviced an early hydroelectric power station, before circling round through the bush and down to the well manicured gardens. Here I was surprised to discover a collection or radiantly coloured peacocks.
Having done the gorge I set about exploring the town (which was closed as it was sunday) and stumbled across "City Park" where there is an island enclosure which is home to over 20 Japanese monkeys. Rather fun to watch.
So Launceston had some pleasant surprises for me but it was time to move on. I had originally planned to visit Bicheno on the east coast but practically all the accommodation in the area was closed for the winter and the busses weren't daily so I scrapped that idea and made a move for Hobart. The bus journey there was a great opportunity to see even more of Tasmanias lovely green countryside as well as an assortment of topiary animals in a farmers field and along the roadside. As we neared our destination we drove out of the rain and in to the snow which wasn't confined to the high ground where the locals felt it should be.
Hobart itself wasn't under a layer of snow when I arrived but the top half of the nearby Mt.Wellington was, which is clearly visible from the town. After my preliminary explorations of the city I set about finding something to do there and was pleased that a trip to the nearby Bonorong wildlife park departed the next day. The journey to the park took us through some of Tasmanias opium growing region (all empty on account of it being winter) apparently Tasmania produces a third of the worlds legal opium (for the pharmaceutical industry I assume). When we arrived at the park there was enough time before the caged animals were fed to wander amongst the free range kangaroos and wallabies and hand feed them with the bags of food provided. Soon enough though came the the moment I had been waiting for, and one of the main reasons I had wanted to visit Tasmania. It was time to see the Tasmanian Devils. I had seen pictures of them and even a stuffed one but I wasn't going to be happy until I saw the real thing. And happy I was. I had been told by other backpackers that they were disappointing little critters, not really worth seeing but I am pleased to report that they were wrong. I could have watched them play tug of war with their food in a snarling frenzy all day! Later we also saw Echidnas (a bit like a porcupine and the only relative of the platypus; both of which are monotremes) and other Tas' specific creatures Quolls (yet another cute furry marsupial). I also got to stroke the wombats and have my picture taken with the Koalas. Perhaps a little cliché but cool none the less. Next on to the picturesque town of Richmond to look round the old Gaol. Apparently once housing the man on whom Fagin from Oliver Twist was based. Richmonds other claim to fame is its bridge. It is the oldest remaining road bridge in Australia. And very nice it is too.
The next stop on my exploration of Tas was going to be Cradle Mountain national park. It was an out doors only type place but I had run out of cities and I really wanted to go. Due to Tasmania's infrequent bus service I had to spend a few more days in Hobart before I set off. So I passed the time by exploring an area of tamed bushland called the "Queens Domain" and the well kept but poorly place botanical gardens. In order to get to Cradle Mountain I had to get the bus back to Launceston and stay the night in order to be there in time to catch the rather expensive touring bus to the mountain early the next morning.
The first half of the bus journey was at least peaceful as I was the only passenger. Things picked up later in the journey and at its peak out numbers swelled to around 6, almost a third of the busses capacity! By the time we had wound our way around endless hairpin bends, each one offering a successively higher plummet to the valley floor should we slip on the abundant recent snow, we were only 3. I arrived at the tourist park in the middle of the afternoon. After checking in I lugged my stuff along the snow flanked path to the hostel section of the park at the far end. I soon realised I was the only person there.
After I had explored the area and taken lots of pictures of snow covered this and snow covered that, I headed down the road to the visitors center to get some ideas for walks in the area. Normally I would have set off for Cradle Mountain itself and started wandering up but the snow (the most they had seen in 13 years) was a major problem especially as I was totally unequipped for it. Even the short level walks near the visitors center were an unexpected challenge not made easier by the compacted snow hugging the boardwalks. After a time I developed a new technique which helped but still progress was slow. Having said that all the snow did look very nice.
I got back to the hostel to discover I was no longer alone. One other person had arrived. This really was especially fortunate as this place has no TV no radio no local pub, nothing. By 5:30pm it was dark and with nothing else for entertainment Gordon and I set about lighting the fire. Wet wood and damp newspaper helped extend the activity to fill a good 2 hours by which time we had a self sustaining blase going. During this time several trips to the wood shed to chop yet thinner bits of wood allowed me chance meetings with some of the local wildlife. I saw several of the local wallabies who were typically unphased by human encounters and also the largest and furriest possum I have seen yet.
So Gordon and I wasted the rest of the evening telling tales of our respective adventures. Next day I decided to take my chances with the conditions and head deeper in to the national park to the base of Cradle Mountain where "Lake Dove" is situated. It was 7.5km just to the lake and a further 7.5 around it. The lake was very calm and beautifully mirrors its surroundings. It would make a nice summer afternoon walk. Getting around on the slippery narrow path was more of a challenge than a pleasure but it was worth it for the sense of profound relief (I mean achievement) that one gets upon finishing. Anyhow on my way back I was lucky enough to see a wild wombat and to be attacked by a beady eyed raven like bird who wanted my lunch.
Gordon had left that day and so I was left alone to hope someone else would turn up. Well they say you should be carefull what you wish for as within the hour 2 mini busses full of OAP's turned up to take the place over. They were a nice enough bunch but a bit rowdy and hopeless at building fires.
And so that about wraps up my visit to Tassy. Next day I got the bus back to Devonport and stayed in the Irish pub again. Then back on the Spirit of Tasmania. Incidentally the river ferry was operational again, simplifying matters greatly. The voyage back was odd due to the time frame. We embarked at 4pm, dined at 7:30pm and then went to bed to be up at 3:30am for breakfast before docking at 5am. It is only on saturday crossings that they do this and only on Sunday mornings that Melbourne's tram system doesn't start running 'till 8:30am (normally starting at 5:30). So after some confusion me and this Japanese backpacker I had just met shared a taxi back to town.
Now it may sound as if I have been having a bit of a moan about Tassy and so I wish to state for the record that it is a lovely place and I did enjoy my time there. I would even say I should like to go back there someday. Only in summer and with a car. After all even with more time there than I had originally planned for I still didn't see all the things I wanted to. I never got to the hedge mazes near Sheffield, nor to the much photographed "wine glass bay" just down the east coast from Bicheno. But I did get to see all the wild and semi-wild life I wanted to and more besides.
So there I was. Back in the Hotel Spencer, bumping in to old friends from the moment I walked in the door. But I wasn't planning to stay long and withing three days I was off again. I had time to fit in a rather overdue tour of the "Great Ocean Road" but that will have to wait 'till next time. Now I leave you once more, hoping I have made up for the poor show that was "Part 4".
Hope all is well with each of you respectively.
David.