We caught the cheap airport shuttle to Sydney Airport, Bound for Hobart in Tasmania. Many years ago, I asked my Dad 'in all your travels with the navy, where was your favourite place?' He mulled over a few possibilities and eventually decided on Tasmania's state capital. For someone who'd spent just about all his adult life sailing the world this was quite a testimonial and we were excited to see what Hobart and the rest of 'Tassie' held in store.
We almost didn't make it. The descent into Hobart was horrendous. High winds buffeted the plane, tipping each wing toward the ground in turn, our knuckles clenched tighter with every bump and jolt. A reflection of just how difucult the approach and landing had been came when the Chief Steward, speaking over the intercom, suggested we should all join him in applauding the pilot who'd done such a marvellous job in such trying circumstances'. After prizing our fingers from the armrests we complied, clapping like demented seals hop[ing to be thrown a herring - or at least be let off the plane so we could make like the Pope and plant a smacker on terra firma!
The trauma was forgotten however by the time we reached the Adelphi Court YHA. We'd decided to stear clear of the more Central YHA as we thought it may have been too noisy. What we didn't realise was the Adelphi was a good half hours' walk from the city centre, a distance at which even the most raucous revellers would have trouble rousing us from our slumbers. It wasn't just the distance they'd have to contend with, they'd also have to rise above the din created by the hacking and spluttering of Yellow Beard, the nicotine stained chain smoker next door.
On our first night, we enjoyed a curry in town and endured a windy walk back (not due to the curry I hasten to add). We spent the next few days exploring the city; visiting Salamanca Market; looking around Battery Point and checking out the port area.
Adelphi's kitchen was often busy. There was an eclectic mix of British couples, a posse of Singaporean girls and a teacher from Melbourne, who, speaking slowly and thoughtfully, told us of his adventures in the Himalayas and the time he'd spent living in Japan.
Soon, however, it was time to move on. We hired a car and headed east to Port Arthur where, at the time of the transportations, a 'natural penitentiary'had been founded which housed prisoners who'd committed further crimes whilst on the mainland.
Port Aruthur had a fearful reputation, regarded as inescapable and a veritable 'hell on earth'for the inmates. However, a complete turn-about meant that we strugled to find somewhere to stay in a place where prisoners dreaded to be sent. We anded up in the small village of Nubeena which was a few kilometres from Port Aruthur, but our unit was cheap, cosy and came with a colour TV - a far cry from the hardships endured by the first settlers.
We drove down a long, dusty, unsealed road through fire denuded forest until we reached Fortescue Bay. It was our intention to hike along the coast to Cape Hauy where we'd find a towering needle of rock emerging from the raging coastal waters - the Totem Pole. Several years previously, a world renowned climber by the name of Paul Pritchard had suffered a terrible accident whilst trying to scale the stack. It may sound ghoulish, that we'd want to seek out the place where this happened, but Alex had gone to the same school as Paul. We'd watched his documentary about the accident and recovery and, seeing as we were staying nearby, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see the precipitous and gravity defying wonder.
Unfortunately, the burned earth we'd seen on the way was evidence of a huge fire which had recently raged through the area, incinerating everything in its path and leaving the area unsafe - gum trees suddenly sheddingbranches is a phenomenon that's not unheard of but the fire meant the risk was greatly multiplied and meant all the paths to the Cape were closed.
Although disappointed, this wasn't the only walk in an area criss-crossed with paths connecting scenes of great natural beauty. We drove to the coast north of Port Arthur and set out alonga wel marked path to Waterfall bay. Passing the amazing coastal formations of the Devil's Kitchen and Tasman Arch, both created by the force of the ocean sculpting the sandstone cliffs, we reached Waterfall Bay where the path ran out. Beyond the path, a track led off into the bush an, seeing as the dry weather meant there were no waterfalls to detain us, we pressed on.
We hadn't been walking long when we disturbed a small snake, it's tail whipping into the the thicket at the edge of the track as we passed. Being terrified of snakes, however small, I was a little freaked at this but worse, far worse was just around the corner. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see something big, and shiny moving through the twigs and dead leaves. We didn't need to take a closer look to see it was around five feet long, sleek and black, its tongue flickering in our direction, no doubt checking us out! That was it for me, I called a halt to the day's trekking deciding I needed time to knit my shredded nerves back together.
I donned long trousers next time out - despite the heat, as we ventured to Cape Raoul, a daywalk through meadows, bushland, pine trees and eventually a clifftop path to the Cape. Spectacular rock formations awaited us with the point of the Cape eroded into organ pipes of free-standing rock formations. Fortunately, the only snake we saw was small and when we met a Kiwi lady on the track, she said that she'd been walking in the area for five years and had only ever seen three... hey, how lucky were we? we'd been on two walks and had already topped that!
We spent the rest of the day exploring blowholes and tesselated pavements but it was time for a complete change of scenery. Leaving the Tasman Peninsualr behind, we drove back west to New Norfolk and Mt. Field National Park...
|
