Flowers everywhere (Tasmania)

I thought I would share some of the photos that I have taken that wouldn't usually make the blog. I enjoy photographing flowers and trying to find some more textured shots. Enjoy.

Russians (Wineglass Bay to Hobart)

This is the official final post from our Tasmanian sojourn and it's a double as well. However, there will be a bootleg post or two. One to publish my arty photos, mostly flowers and the other that will contain reflections on where we have stayed and our experience of Tasmania in general.

The title of today’s post is courtesy of Sting, circa 1985, a song about the Cold War between the USSR and the USA. I am sure you are looking for the segue, dear reader. Well, yesterday at breakfast we noticed two teenaged girls, friends, not siblings we thought. By the time we had arrived at the car park for the Wineglass Bay Walk, a very obvious Cold War had broken out between the two former allies. Each was being counselled by a parent; neither would see reason. By the time they commenced walking, they were still separated and the dark haired one was walking with her arms folded in front of her. As the ad used to go, “NOT HAPPY JAN”. And so it continued all the way up to the lookout and on the way back down until we saw them no more. No friendship fractures harsher than that of teen girls and no one hates with more ferocity. I wonder how they are today?

Breakfast at the Freycinet Lodge certainly did not reach the heights of dinner. Aptly, it was served in the Bistro area and was significantly down market from last night’s dining experience. The bain-maries failed to warm the food, largely because the burners were not lit. The eggs, oh the eggs... I identified them as eggs only because of the colour and my expectation that there would be eggs somewhere. The bacon, sausages and tomatoes were all cold. The cereals pitched at the teen market – main stream Kelloggs sugar. The OJ was labelled orange, but perhaps that referred to the colour and not the fruit. It was crowded too, and noisy. Not impressed given how they market themselves. I know dear reader that I have become an inner city dandy, but I missed my granola and yoghurt and ancient grain bread.

The day dawned like most, grey and, as hours wore on, the cloud burned away, or in the case of today, was blown away. The gale force wind that arrived yesterday had continued unabated throughout the night and was still making its presence felt was we drove toward the Wineglass Bay Track car park. Jayne was about to embark on her 6^th bush walk in three days and this one was not graded easy – there was no wheel chair access. The walk to the saddle and lookout was around 90 minutes return and 3km in length. It was quite crowded and we passed the Cold War girls (or they passed us) on several occasions.

Great Oyster Bay

There were some great views on the way up, looking back over Great Oyster Bay. The surface that had been so smooth earlier yesterday was being ripped up by the wind. The track itself is well graded with steps intermittently placed. The steps were made of the pink granite from the surrounding rock. If the Greeks had built this track the edging would be polished granite, not this rough-hewn Australian variety. All I could see were pink granite bench tops everywhere.

The lookout is well worth the climb. It reveals one of the most iconic views in Tasmania that everyone would have seen on promotional material. We met a wallaby just before the top, much to the excitement of some Japanese children. The lookout area was crowded as people availed themselves of the opportunity to take in the scenery and catch their collective breath.

The colour is real

I had wallaby for dinner one night

Seriously?!

The trip back to the car park is only 1km and about 20 minutes and is as unremarkable as the ascent is spectacular. Back at the car we discussed our next stop. It was to be a distillery to sample some of Tasmania’s finest whisky – for Jayne, dear reader, for I am uncultured in the ways of distilled grain. This was to be a reward for all of her braving of the bush in the last few days. Sullivan's Cove was my first choice but it was not to be - they are closed on weekends. Of course, that makes sense. An island state that is significantly dependent on tourism and an important attraction is closed on weekends. Really? The next choice was Nant Distillery. However, this was around a 100km detour from our selected route. Jayne would be rewarded so we set the navigation maps for Bothwell. As usual, we experienced the four seasons in the drive and the temperature varied from 23° to 14°, with showers giving way to sunshine and back again. Finally we arrived at the distillery to find it closed for stocktake and audit. WTF! Their website stated they were open and we did check it before we left Freycinet. As a cartoon character from my childhood would say, “Curses! Foiled again.”

Redland Distillery - the gate was open, a good sign

The next opportunity was in a village called Kempton that housed the Redland Distillery. No, we hadn’t heard of them either, but we sought them out and they were open. A promising start at least. Jayne would finally have her whisky tasting although it was quite an unsatisfactory experience. Whisky tasting is not cheap. A four paddle tasting cost $20 or you could taste by the half nip starting at $10. The paddle had limited choice - only one genuine whisky, the others were a 'new malt' whisky before it has been aged in barrels, a lavender liquor and a brandy. Pretty average across the board (get it? get it? A paddle is a board. Oh, ok then). Even the whisky on there which was the oldest in Tasmania was so-so.

Back in the car and back to the highway - it was straight to Villa Howden which is on the southern side of Hobart, strangely enough, in Howden. Makes sense. It was beautiful and a wonderful way to conclude our holiday. It was, by far, the pick of the accommodation. Set on the banks of the Derwent, the Villa offers accommodation and meals. Our suite was upstairs and we had views to the river through the trees. A quick shower and change of clothes and it was down to the lounge to sit in front of the fire place and have a quiet glass of wine. While the fire was unnecessary while we were there, it is easy to imagine what a lovely cosy evening it would be in Villa Howden in winter.

Wynn's Goonawarra - hilarious

They had a good selection of Tasmania wines with one from South Australia. Their wine list shows how important a typo can be. With one misplaced letter, the Coonawarra wine region in South Australia become "Goonawarra". Too funny. I wasn't sure whether they were making comparisons between SA and Tasmania.

Dinner was delightful, from the home made bread to the entrees of seafood chowder and local steak and lamb for mains to the peanut butter parfait for dessert. Nothing was rushed, everything was perfectly timed and the service was attentive. We have already discussed a return for a longer time period.

The next morning the wind continued. It had caused problems in parts of the state but we were unscathed in our area. Breakfast was the best we had throughout our journey as well. Choice of muesli and omelette/bacon/eggs combinations cooked to order. It was probably not what we needed given we had a reservation for lunch at Mure's, Tasmania's best seafood restaurant. First world problems seem to assail us.

The car was packed and we were on the road to Sullivan's Cove where we parked and wandered around the dock area and Salamanca Square, killing time until lunch and trying to walk off breakfast. Midday came around too quickly, but there is only one way to finish a holiday in Tassie and that is at Mure's on the upper deck. To this point we had checked off most of the iconic Tasmanian foods except lobster. In all the places we had eaten, lobster featured nowhere - except at Freycinet Lodge. The fact that it was on the specials board at Mure's meant we would be able close our holiday appropriately - well, Jayne would.  I had octopus followed by beer battered fish. I am finishing this entry from home almost 9 hours later and I'm still not hungry.

And that dear reader is about it. From Mure's to the airport, car returned, the Qantas Lounge for a glass of wine and then home, back to the heat and humidity. It seems like we have been away forever, but I think that is a reflection of a travel holiday. There will be two more posts before I pack the computer away until June when we will be taking you to Italy.

The summer wind came blowin' in from across the sea (Freycinet - Wineglass Bay)

Now, dear reader please don't be like that ... a Frank Sinatra song brings a little class to the blog after commencing this trip with Craig McLachlan and besides, one must cater to all ages.

And then the rain came. Well they call it rain down here. It's like a mixture of drizzle and light rain. Aggravation value more than anything. I didn't even have the wipers on properly. The drive from Quamby to Freycinet was what I have come to expect of Tasmanian roads, long and winding with the occasional corner not adequately signposted. They should have a sign following these corners saying "surprise".

We arrived in Freycinet National Park early and stopped at the visitor centre to collect a walking brochure. The only walks we will be doing, weather permitting will be minor ones. The first walk began at the Visitor Centre carpark down to Great Oyster Bay Beach, 10 minutes return - knocked that one over, too easy. 

We drove around to Freycinet Lodge, quite a large complex. We booked in but could not have our room key until 2pm - and they meant it. As it turned out we arrived at our cabin about 2:20 and the cleaning staff were just leaving. Obviously they have a tight timeline. We set up quickly and tested the internet. It was described as patchy inside our cabin. Read non-existent. It works perfectly if I sit outside on the verandah.

By this time the weather had begun to change. The wind has really whipped up and it was threatening rain. We still completed a couple of the shorter walks despite the capriciousness of the weather. I chose not to take my sunglasses or cap and by the time we arrived at the first walk the sun was breaking through the rapidly moving clouds.

The first walk was a loop around the Cape Tourville Lighthouse. It was a nicely graded track or walking platform with spectacular views over Thouin Bay; it would be a great place to whale watch. A pleasant stroll that consumed only 20 minutes.

The clouds suck the colour out of the vista

Sleepy Bay

Next stop was Sleepy Bay, this time ungraded track, still an easy walk, with one steep section. Only 30 minutes return depending on how long you rock hop and look for that perfect photo en route to the bay. Again some gorgeous scenery and very accessible. The only drawback was the mosquitoes. The little buggers were everywhere. Mozzies don't usually worry me and to be honest I didn't notice them here either, not to say they didn't enjoy some O negative, but Jayne felt them bite. And they went through clothing. The track was steep enough to cause one to work up a sweat and this was exacerbated by our attempt to avoid the mozzies. Ultimately this exertion resulted in us having a bottle of wine to assist with our recovery upon our return to our cabin. I am sure I need not point this out dear reader, but since we have arrived in the Apple Isle we have only partaken of local wines - and excellent quality they are too.

Sleepy Bay from the beach

Jayne waiting patiently with her swarm of mosquitoes

And to dinner. With some trepidation, we tackled the seafood platter. I am not, generally, a fan of the platter dear reader because it allows the providore the option of padding out the platter with battered things and fries.While they are filling, they cheapen the value of the platter for everyone - except the providore wins. Cheaper product, premium price. Not so here at Freycinet Lodge. The bottom layer was mussels and clams in a beautiful tomato broth, the next contained oysters kilpatrick, scallops done in a variety of ways, battered Tasmanian salmon, blue eye, calamari and potatoes. The top layer had abalone, octopus, smoked salmon, smoked mussels and salmon sashimi. Very tidy.

By this stage the sun was beginning its descent to other side of the world so we repaired to our cabin to get the camera. Disappointingly, the colours were nothing to get excited about; in fact I've seen better sunsets in Redfern - often.

I've seen better sunsets

Back to the cabin for a cup of tea on our verandah until the mosquitoes caused a change a plans again. Tomorrow's plans are set but we will see what the weather brings.

Random arty shot

Alex the seal (Launceston)

Alex the seal, I hear you enquiring dear reader? You are correct, it is not actually a song but what is referred to as a mondegreen. The correct lyric is "our lips are sealed" by the Go-Go's - obscure reference apparent later in the blog. Welcome to the 201st travel blog - who'd have thought way back in 2011 when I commenced blogging my trips we would make it this far? Certainly not me. Today we shall combine two days for the sake of economy.

We happily wended our way down the dirt track from Lemonthyme Wilderness Retreat back to tar and civilisation - of a sort. The road across to Launceston was as expected, meandering. The added challenge to this leg of the trip was the logging trucks. Curiously the unladen ones were more of a danger than those carrying a load of logs. The former travelled extremely quickly on very narrow roads with scant regard for staying on the correct side of the centre line. It is no surprise that there is so much road kill. In fact, I believe that there is more road kill in Tasmania than live humans.

Once again Jayne expertly navigated us from one part of the island to another using nothing but her native cunning and an iPhone. Fortunately she is with Telstra. As an Optus customer I was disconnected from the digital world for three days. Yes, first world problems. There were times however when I doubted her prowess when we seemed to driving in large rectangles through fields of poppies. Drug trade? Well yes, but not the illegal kind. Tasmania produces about half of the world supply of poppy straw that are used to make opiates such as codeine and morphine (thanks wikipedia).

Soon enough we were out of the paddocks and back on a (relatively) main road heading for Wines for Joanie, a delightful little winery in Sidmouth. I have been very brave so far on this trip as you would have noticed dear reader; there have been no side excursions of wine tasting. This has required great self-restraint as there are many excellent wine makers in Tasmania. However, a trip to the Hunter Valley last November has ensured that my cellar is still full. Wines for Joanie is my only exception and I highly recommend their wines. I hope to return later this year to spend a weekend in the cottage they have on the property. Picturesque and relaxing.

Quamby Estate

A delightful dozen now freighting their way back to Redfern, back into the car and off to locate our accommodation for the next two days: Quamby Estate, near Hagley about 20 minutes outside Launceston. The house is set in manicured, gorgeous grounds complete with a 9 hole golf course. Built in 1828, it has been lovingly restored and has lost none of the grandeur of yesteryear, particularly when you consider the ensuite bathroom has a spa and underfloor heating.

From the front

A relaxing bottle of wine on the verandah with the computer to complete some more blog entries was a delightful way to while away the afternoon. There is also a restaurant with a menu that changes daily. Last night's selected offering of Tassie scallops followed by duck breast and cinnamon orange brulee was enough to ensure we'll be back tonight. Jayne also had the scallops followed by lamb racks and raspberry and chocolate meringue all washed down with a bottle of Tasmania's finest pinot noir. And the best thing? The walk to bed was about 25 metres.

The perfect place for an afternoon drink

After a comfortable night's sleep and a continental breakfast we decided that a drive into Launceston to complete the gorge walk would be the day's activity. It was an easy drive into Launceston, but not so finding the gorge - well, more precisely, parking. We drove to the Gorge Reserve car park to find it completely full, so we wound our way back down the hill and parked near Stillwater (a restaurant that had been recommended to us) and walked back to the beginning of the Gorge walk. It was stroll more than a walk, punctuated by stoppages to watch a rock climber not actually climbing, but trying. She was gone on our return so we assume she was either successful or lying at the bottom of the rock face. Unexpectedly, there were also a couple of large seals just lounging in the sun around on the rocks up towards the rapids, hence the title of today's post.

The Gorge walk is one of the major tourist attractions of Launceston. Yes, it is very quiet around here. While we were surprised to witness a couple of seals in the middle of suburbia (literally four minutes drive away from the CBD), it is apparently not so notable if you are a native of this area. The day after Christmas, a seal lumbered up the streets of suburban Launceston and sat on the roof of a car. You don't see that everyday, either on the banks of Parramatta River or in suburban Sydney.

The Gorge - major tourist attraction

If I asked you dear reader what you would expect to find at the end of the gorge walk, I wonder what you might answer. Like the seal sighting, I certainly did not expect a cable chair lift crossing to the other side of the valley, where, on that bank of the river, was an olympic swimming pool. After reading the reserve rules in the rotunda, which stated there was to be no boisterous behaviour, games or bad language, naturally, we got out of there fast. It was time to GTFO.

Look closely and you'll see the rock climber

Alex the seal

Following the walk, we paused at Stillwater for a coffee and then went into Launceston itself and wandered around looking at the historic buildings. That didn't take very long so it was back to Quamby House to once again sit on the verandah and enjoy the peace and quiet with a glass of wine.

The peace and quiet didn't last as long as we hoped as a party of 10 people arrived. While their arrival proved to be rather noisy, they were staying in rooms above ours, their overall impact was minor. Dinner was very good once again, although they are gilding the lilly somewhat by saying the "menu changes daily". Some of the menu had changed from the previous day, but largely it was the same. Nonetheless, there were still plenty of options to ensure no repeat meals. We were finishing our meals as the large group arrived, the perfect time to drift back to our room.

Tomorrow is Freycinet, a highlight for me and a possible reconnoitre for future bushwalking trips. However, the forecast is for rain which could curtail my plans. We are also moving back into a media blackout. I will certainly have no phone access and there is no mention of wifi, so I assume the internet is s till a curiosity in that part of Tassie as well.  In which case my dedicated reader we shall communicate again once we have reached our final destination in Tasmania, Hobart, for a brief stopover before the airport.

Georgia on my mind or I feel the earth move under my feet (Cradle Mountain, Tasmania)

Welcome to the 200th post of this blog. That's a fairly tidy achievement my dedicated reader - for both of us. The titles today? Well, that will become apparent dear reader. They are both famous songs, my favourite version of Georgia is by Willie Nelson and of course the other is by the brilliant Carole King. I recommend the musical Beautiful if you get the opportunity to see it. Absolutely superb, but I digress.

The possums of Ormiston House made themselves heard again last night but were a little more respectful and significantly quieter. This facilitated a small sleep-in and we arrived at breakfast to find the place deserted. All of the other guests had supped and gone. We, in no rush, had a leisurely breakfast and a chat with our host, Rose, before climbing the hidden staircase to the

The widow's lookout

‘widow’s lookout’. It has an excellent view of the harbour and is purported to be where the wife of the house would pace looking for the return of her husband’s vessel (albeit that now she would have great difficulty since the magnolia tree, commemorated in a photo of its planting as a sapling in the late 19th century, has grown somewhat and obliterates much of the harbour view these days).

We spent some time on the staircases leading up to the widow’s lookout and, from the photographic records lining the stairs, it turns out that the Ormiston name is actually the middle name of Frederick of the Henry family, quality importers, who owned the house and then subsequently sold off portions of its surrounding land and, finally, the mansion itself.   Maybe David and Teneille have a claim on the place through some distant relative?? Not that you would want to live here because by the locals’ own admission, the weather is pretty ordinary for the vast majority of the year and it appears we have been very fortunate.  It seems that heritage-listed rain forests require significant rainfall to proliferate – who knew?

It was then time to hit the road again on our way to Lemonthyme Wilderness Retreat. Where we stopped and what we would do was going to be dictated by the weather that in Strahan that morning was, as it usually is, overcast and grey with the hint of drizzle. The road to Cradle Mountain was another serpentine affair with random speed cornering signs that kept me very focused on the road.

Proof

As we were getting close to Cradle Mountain the cloud was breaking up. By the time we had braved the tourist centre and had our National Park Pass validated, the cloud had given way to sunshine. The tourist centre was packed, as it always seems to be. There doesn't seem to be a well organised structure, but we were fortunate. in and out relatively quickly. The breeze was still slightly brisk but it promised to be a wonderful afternoon. We discussed the possible options of Dove Lake and Marion’s Lookout and opted for the former dear reader. As you would know, Jayne is no lover of bushwalking, or exercise for that matter, and her participation was because of her love of and dedication to me. A circumnavigation of Dove Lake it would be - about three hours return.

The walk around the lake really is quite lovely. It is 6.2 km and graded ‘easy’. It is track or walking platform all the way and the climb (such as it is) occurs towards the end of the walk if you follow the advice of the rangers and walk in a clock-wise direction. This simple request proved to be too much for some patrons. I am unsure if it is as a result of the digital generation that they no longer understand the term clock-wise. Or they are just ignorant, entitled ‘me generation’ people, but they proved annoying because it meant people had to walk to the side to allow them pass by in the anti-clockwise direction. No doubt this accounts for some of the damage to sides of the track. Of course the other damage can be attributed to backpackers searching for the glamour-selfie, unsupervised children and people from a particular continent to whom the rules don’t apply. Yes, yes, dear reader you are correct I’m stereotyping and exaggerating for effect. Hyperbole if you will.

About 10 minutes into the walk at Glacier Rock we met the delightful Georgia for the first, but sadly not the last, time; an unaccompanied 10 year old girl who skipped away from her family – lucky them. She had a knack of taking up the best vantage point and not relinquishing it until her dawdling parent caught up. This created much frustration for people who patiently waited for the right shot. Ok, it caused frustration for me. As we walked dangerously close to the edge of the rock, Jayne grabbed my hand and gave me ‘the look’. There would be no child sacrifice at Glacier Rock today.

Not a Georgia in sight

Georgia managed to do this again further down the track by removing her jacket and jumper and throwing them into the fork of a tree, thereby destroying a beautiful, untouched panorama, while lounging in another tree waiting for the long-suffering, slow-walking parent, and yet again forcing people to wait their turn. No, dear reader, this time it was not I, it was a number of backpackers from Europe who displayed far more patience than I could muster. I took my photos and shopped the little cow out of them later.

Happily though that was the last we saw of Georgia. There were, however,  other children who ran and squealed and screamed their way around parts of the track. Really? At one point there was a screaming contest. Totally awesome. What were their parents doing? Ignoring them is the answer. It seems to be a new way of parenting. If my children had behaved in that manner, Glacier Rock would have been re-named Hanging Rock, we would have another mystery and Miranda would have more friends to play with (Google it kids).

The biggest joke or was that jerk of the day, was the guy who walked into the lake to fill up a water bottle and sample the water. Yes, I may have consumed water from less clean water sources over the years, but it was always a matter of necessity. He was filling bottles for his children to taste. While the water was probably OK, the equally pristine Lake St Clair comes with warnings. Anyway, he sampled the water and someone asked "what's it taste like"? Water? Colourless and odourless as I was taught at school - if it's not, then something has been added. His very witty reply? "Soap". Get it? Dove Lake, Dove is a brand of soap (and other cosmetics).

We completed the circuit in around two and a half hours. Yes we walked slowly, stopping to take many photos, admired the view and looked at the wildflowers. That, I thought was the point of the exercise. Although I did hear one couple boast that it had taken them only 90 minutes! Stop the press, get out the record books. Who cares? The idea is to look and to observe and take in what’s around you. It is a beautiful, magical walk. And the real magic? Jayne did it with me (and didn’t fall over once).

The iconic view

Our next stop was Lemonthyme Wilderness Retreat, which proved to be a challenge to find as it was hidden down 8km of unsealed road. In retrospect, neither of us is sure it was worth the drive.

Lemonthyme Wilderness Retreat it seems is neither retreat nor wilderness. As we alighted from the car the first sound that assailed us was not bird song or the gurgling of a nearby stream but the screams of an infant. Screams so ear piercing that they created a slight echo. Impressive. And impressively annoying. It was noticeable when the din ceased. I am now regretting choosing an early sitting for dinner.

The verandah

Car unpacked, bottle shop too far away, we decided to avail ourselves of the dreaded mini-bar. Once again though, similar to Sullivan’s Cove Apartments in Hobart, we found the prices quite reasonable. There is no price gouging here, perhaps that is a trait that belongs to the north island. Two half bottles of Ninth Island Chardonnay (2013) and Pinot Noir (2014) at the bargain price of $18 each. A quick fossick though our bags revealed a packet of peanuts and it was instant happy hour on the balcony.

Dinner was OK but nothing special, but we never really going to eat anywhere else. It was 8km back to the main road and then who knows how long to food. As a result all guests tend to eat at the restaurant. So, it was crowded, but they were reasonably efficient and the wait staff were pretty good. Except for one. He was like a bee in a bottle. He never walked anywhere, it was always fast, with purpose and while I get this on a busy night, it just made people feel uncomfortable. It was like he was trying to head off a catastrophe at every step.

The cabins were well appointed but the one bedroom cabins were a part of a duplex. While we did not hear the people next door to us we could feel the effects of them walking around. So, as Jayne and I settled into bed the cabin started moving, akin to an earthquake. My ever-witty partner quipped, “Did the earth move for you”? I hope we made the earth move for them too.

Breakfast proved to be a similar gastronomic affair, but without the anxious wait staff. It was crowded, as expected, but one would assume that they would keep an eye on food levels in the buffet. Nope. Jayne had to point out that they had run out of bread for toast, bacon, beans, eggs and juice. Yep, that was pretty much the buffet. It could be said that I am being critical, but there is a significant gap between marketing and reality and I don’t like the earth moving.