Tasmania (“Tassie”)

Of all the places we’ve visited in Australia, the one that people seem to universally rave about, is Tasmania. As a consequence we’ve been looking forward to seeing what all the fuss is about!

The ferry from Melbourne leaves at around 11pm and arrives into Davenport first thing in the morning. Travellers have the choice between recliner seats, or compact overnight cabins. We opt for the latter and a relatively early night, having exhausted ourselves on our final day in Melbourne. We are both woken during the night by some fairly lively seas (buffeted by twenty-mile-an-hour winds), but that aside, it was a fun way to cross the Bass Strait and arrive in Tassie!

Having picked up a hire car, our first stop is in Aberdeen. The Australian animal that I have most wanted to see in the wild is a Platypus. I’ve always thought they are fascinating creatures, almost too weird to be real. Along with the Echidnea they are the only remaining monotremes (egg laying mammals) in existence. Although they look pretty harmless, the male of the species is actually venomous. The venom is potentially lethal, although there have been no recorded deaths. Which, let’s face it, is just as well, death by Platypus is not a great look!

They are increasingly difficult to see in the wild, with entire websites dedicated to platypus sightings. My research suggests that the arboretum in Tasmania is about the best chance we have of seeing a wild platypus anywhere in Australia. With only a week left in Oz, it’s our last chance. Come on Tassie – don’t let me down.

Upon arriving, we don’t have to wait very long. A family are stood on a bridge, pointing excitedly at the water. Sure enough a Platypus is making its’ way through the water by the reeds. Cue, furious camera action. Despite my best efforts, they are pretty tricky to photograph. They make relatively fleeting appearances and are largely submerged. Fortunately for us the water is reasonably clear, so whilst I won’t be winning any awards, the photos bear witness to our sighting. Over the next hour we see lots of others, in different parts of the lake. Really lovely to be able to watch them in the wild, and they are every bit as weird as I’d imagined them to be!

Fresh from our success, we have a 1 hour drive to our first overnight stop in Lake St Clair National Park. The drive is pretty stunning, during which beautiful views abound. When Cradle Mountain comes into view it is the pick of the scenery we have seen to date and we are excited to park up and explore. Our accommodation for the night is just outside the national park at Highlander. A log cabin in the middle of a wood. Basic, but fitting for the area, and equipped with a real fire.

We head straight out and into the park. Mini buses take hikers from the visitors centre, dropping hikers at various points to start the myriad of available walks. We opt to walk around Dove Lake at the foot of the mountain. On the way back we pass Lake Lilla, and wander through a valley where there are a heady number of wombats foraging. They are really nice creatures, like over-sized teddy bears! They come so close to the raised walkway that we get some half-decent shots with a wide angle lens.

Next morning we are up early as Jenn has read that the weather is going to be nicest first thing. We set out with the intention to do a modest 3 hour hike. It’s hard work, being largely uphill, but stunning – with Cradle Mountain outlined against a blue sky and with small patches of stubborn snow.

We walk to the kitchen hut – for some reason Jenn is keen to see the two doors, necessary give how high the snow can get in the winter.

Staring up at the mountain, it doesn’t look anything like as far as the 3.5 hour trip that the signage suggest. It does however look pretty much vertical. The path is visible most of the way – but disappears amongst the boulders about three quarters of the way up.

We had no intention of climbing to the summit when we set out. However, the weather is stunning and we figure we are only going to be here once. We are torn, as we have a two hour car journey to our next stop. We have pretty much decided to start making our way back, when we get talking to some Irish girls. They are doing the summit and somehow, this brief exchange encourages us to do likewise!

As we start walking upwards – I’m a little bewildered. I’m not quite sure how this has happened. One minute we were at the half-way point of a very enjoyable hike about to head for home. Now we are at the beginning of one that will take us to a summit standing 5,069 ft proud.

Even so, I actually quite enjoy the first part of our extended hike. It’s steep, but the views just keep getting better and better.

However, it soon becomes clear why we couldn’t see the path from the bottom. There isn’t one! We are faced with a field of enormous rocks – marked periodically with posts highlighting the general direction of travel. The boulder field climbs all the way to the summit.

There are some pretty challenging sections requiring a deep breath and a stretch to reach a hand or foot hold. If it’s a stretch for me then it’s a gargantuan effort for Jenn. She ploughs on regardless though!

As we near the top I am starting to seriously question my life choices!

Even at the summit, my sense of foreboding is barely abated. Although we may have made our way to the top, the journey down doesn’t exactly look fun. It necessitates a steep descent whilst looking groundward for the entire scramble. I have to keep reminding myself that each step taken is a step closer to the ground.

As well as questioning my life choices, I am very definitely somewhat disgruntled with the national park authorities. For most of the 12 weeks we’ve spent in Australia it has felt like we have been very much wrapped in cotton wool, and I might even go as far as to suggest that it’s felt like a nanny state at times. There are signs for everything – providing warnings, guidance, and advice. Estimates for walks and associated grading has been conservative. We’ve far outstripped the walking pace and have rarely felt that any of the grade 4 walks have been overly challenging. However, this is the one instance where such signage has not been provided. There was nothing to indicate that the path would disappear and we would find ourselves on a sheer rock face! We are grown ups, so it is absolutely on us, but it goes to show how you become reliant on signage and mollycoddling when it’s provided as standard.

As we are on the way down we meet our Irish friends who are still about halfway from the top (we clearly did it at a decent pace). I take a perverse satisfaction in knowing that we are nearly done, whilst they still have a lot to look forward to. 😉

In any event, once we reach the bottom and my heart rate has returned to normal, we are pretty chuffed that we made the ascent and very grateful that we survived the return journey. That just leaves the 2.5 hour walk back to the car and a two hour drive to Launceston. Fair to say that we almost fall asleep in our dinners and are very grateful that our room for the evening has a large bath!

Next morning we inexplicably decide to do another walk, despite the fact that Jenn’s legs protest at every step. It’s nothing like as nice a day and the walk is far less inspiring. We do however meet the friendliest Echidna yet – who is happy enough to have his photo taken with me… that is a look of genuine happiness (me, not the echidna) – doesn’t take much… 😉

Our next stop in Freycinet National Park is a 2 hour drive. We have a cabin in the woods within the national park, and just enough daylight left to take a stroll to the two beaches that are on the doorstep. Very nice spot in the shadow of the mountains. The water is a beautiful colour blue and braver souls than us can be found swimming. Sooner them than us!

Over the next two days we actually do the same walk twice. The first day is pretty cloudy, threatening rain, with the constant roll of thunder in the background. The view from both the beach and the look out point is less than inspiring, although the clouds late afternoon are pretty dramatic.

But, as the saying goes, what a difference a day makes! Next day is stunning and it feels like time well spent retracing our footsteps.

After our morning hike it’s a 3 hour drive to Hobart. I didn’t have particularly high expectations for the city. However, it turns out to be pretty stunning. It’s much bigger than I imagined, and as we cross the Tasman bridge, the city stretches for miles, with many of the houses set on the hills. Unlike Melbourne, whose city planners turned their back on the water, everything in Hobart is pointed at the beautiful blue bay. Our Airbnb has an imposing view and is a great place to base ourselves for a couple of days.

The food and drink scene in Hobart is amongst the best we’ve experienced in Oz. Loads of very good restaurants and bars, plus a great market on Saturdays. It’s a place I could happily spend a chunk of time.

Despite being a very cool place, everything is a bit of a drive from Hobart. We decide however, to make the three hour return trip to Port Arthur. Can’t come to Australia as a Pommie and not visit a prison! The views en route to this particular site are pretty awe inspiring. Driving on a peninsula one is treated to dramatic sea views and beautiful beaches. The low cloud that seems typical of the area makes the mountains in the background appear even more dramatic than they otherwise might.

The Penitentiary, at Port Arthur, looks stunning. Although now in ruins, if it weren’t for the bars adorning the window, one could be mistaken for imagining that this were once a very fine house or an excellent hotel. The grounds are magnificent and the site is built facing the sea.

The irony is pretty stark. Despite the beauty of the area, it was a notoriously brutal institution for repeat offenders until closing in 1877. Much of the infrastructure was built on the hard labour of the offenders (including a 36 man treadmill). The so called isle of the dead is the resting place of c. 1100 prisoners who met their end in an assortment of colourful and painful ways. Tough break for those deported from the UK who called this place home, for us however, a really interesting place to spend an afternoon.

After a  final day in Hobart pottering around the market and indulging in more of the excellent cuisine, its time to pack. One final sleep in Australia before we fly to Auckland.

Firstly Tassie. What a place! Could easily have spent two weeks here and can fully understand why it is so revered by those that have made the journey. If I were faced with the choice, I would happily skip the delights of Melbourne and even, dare I say it, the Great Ocean Road, in favour of spending time on the island.

Secondly, Australia. As I’ve mentioned before, I was somewhat cynical about spending so much time in one country. I had also swallowed the hyperbole around heat, desert, and terrifying fauna. I came to Australia curious and hopeful, but a little sceptical. I’m leaving with a deep appreciation for this part of the world. Every step of our journey has offered something slightly different from that which has preceded it. The wildlife is plentiful, the scenery stunning, and the people laid back, friendly and welcoming.

We’ve already talked about coming back in the future (might need to earn some money first), but until then, we leave with nothing but incredible memories.

Who’d have thought it! 😉