Tag Archives: beach

Tasmania – Tassie Truckin’

Monday, February 02 to Friday, February 13

Phew.

10 days in a camper van. 1,900 km trekking to all four windswept Tasmanian  coasts, across isolated bushland and wilderness, into alpine national parks, through declining mining communities and genteel Victorian towns.

And virtually no internet connectivity across Tassie until we’re back in Hobart now for the final few days of our epic Aussie adventure.

A few highlights:

  • 1st night’s camp site on remote South Bruny Island, after a ferry ride from Kettering on the mainland. Not advertised anywhere. Owned by Phil, the mad axeman. We had an astonishingly beautiful lagoon and white sandy beach all to ourselves, just a few short steps through towering eucalyptus trees. Shame it rained on the camp fire
  • sharing our barbecued supper with a family of wallabies – or were they pademelons (small wallaby like creatures, rather than Irish soft fruits) – at the eco camp Huon Bush Retreats in the Huon Valley

  • walking around Dove Lake, in the shadow of the iconic Cradle Mountain. A bit too popular with Nikon-toting Asian tourists for our liking, but undeniably picturesque

  • the unplanned time we spent at Strahan, on the remote west coast. Taking to the stage in Australia’s longest running play, The Ship That Never Was, about the brutal penal colony on nearby Sarah Island between 1822 & 1833. I was the drunken captain overthrown by the final 10 convicts who had built the Frederick ship from local materials, fearful of being transferred to the new penitentiary at Port Arthur, like the rest of the Sarah Island felons. Gill was the helmsman who sailed it 10,000 miles to Chile. An amazing true story of hard times told with a sense of humour, and with a lot of audience participation

  • an amazing boat trip from Strahan the following day, to Hell’s Gates which shelter Macquarie Harbour from more dangerous open waters, to the mouth of the iconic Gordon River and to Sarah Island, for an evocative tour which brought to life the brutality of the regime run there, before the final escape we had seen dramatised so entertainingly

  • motoring up the Tamar Valley from Launceston to remote Greens Beach on the windswept northern extremity, and enjoying a leisurely lunch and wine tasting at Velo, a winery owned by Micheal Wilson, a Tasmanian who cycled in the Olympics and competed in the Tour de France a couple of times, as well as in the other European Grand Tours, while living in France and Italy for 10 years

  • time spent at Bicheno, a small east coast seaside community, especially seeing the fairy penguins migrating at dusk from the nearby Governor Island sanctuary to their sandy onshore rookeries, just a few feet away from us

  • looking down at Wineglass Bay from the famous lookout point on the picturesque Freycinet Peninsula …and then spending time sunbathing on the almost deserted wide crescent of squeaky white sand as a school of 5 of 6 dolphins played lazily in the bay

  • the last night’s camp site, a spontaneous turn off the east coast road to Gumleaves, a 40 acre wildlife retreat where the wallabies bounced, the kookaburras laughed as our alarm call, and where an over-zealous possum scratched at the door of the only other camper van on the site….and then tried to climb in the vent on their roof . And where a poisonous 4 foot long tiger snake was lurking

And a couple of lowlights:

  • a scary 30 km+ camper van journey up and down vertiginous unprotected forested mountain tracks – gravel, not tarmac – in search of Pyengana, the place of happy cows and great cheese and ice cream. Apparently. We never made it. We got completely lost, a bit scared….and I almost turned the truck over in remote woodland, with no phone or internet signals and no hope of survival
  • passing through sad mining communities like Queenstown and Zeehan on the west coast, which had thrived a century ago but which now cling proudly to their industrial heritage whilst suffering from a much changed economy and a different way of life

Tassie is a place of incredible natural beauty, indigenous wildlife and remote communities. If we come again, there are some places I’d like to revisit, some I would miss out..and some we didn’t manage to see this time, like the Tasman Peninsula.

But what an adventure. Thanks to Gill for an epic 10 days – and camper van nights – in Tassie. That hot shower and soft bed in the Hobart hotel sure will feel good, though…..

South Australia – Road Trip 1 (continued)

Day 7 – Wednesday, January 21

Built in Belfast in 1868 the 3-masted iron ship, Star of Greece, ran into a violent storm off Port Willunga in the early hours of July 13, 1888. She was a regular visitor to Adelaide and bound for England with her cargo of wheat when disaster struck. There’s some confusion but most reckon that at least 17 poor souls perished that day.

Every cloud….., as they say. The Star of Greece bistro now commemorates the unfortunate ship, and is perched shyly on the shallow cliffs above the shimmering waters of Gulf St Vincent, off the west coast of South Australia below Adelaide.

Gill and I dropped into the cafe on a whim, late one afternoon on our road trip of the Fleurieu Peninsula as we headed back to Adelaide. They were fully booked but found us a spot on the balcony outside, directly overlooking the picture-perfect beach and in Pom-searing heat, despite the lateness of the hour. The service was so considerate that they conjured up a couple of wide-brimmed hats to protect our already burnt northern hemisphere faces from further punishment.

1 Southern Ocean kingfish sashimi with smoked Goolwa cockles, 1 serving of Spencer Gulf king prawns with green chilli and lime salsa, 1 Kangaroo Island salt & pepper squid with Yuzu mayo, 1 barramundi fish with a quinoa crust, and a couple of exquisitely chilled glasses of wine later, and we were really missing home. Really.

Earlier in the day, we had headed south from our overnight base in the affluent McLaren Vale wine area towards Victor Harbor (yes, spelt the dodgy US way) towards the southern tip of the Peninsula. But that town felt a bit too kiss-me-quick for our Surrey sensitivities, its Victorian heritage undone by a few more recent town planners.

My abiding memory of Victor Harbor will be John, a  sprightly weather-beaten host at the Tourist Office. He went to the UK and mainland Europe for the global Scout Jamboree in 1957, as a 21 year-old . He was away from Australia for 6 months, of which 2 were spent on a boat, forced around the southern tip of Africa on the way out because of the Suez crisis. He preferred Denmark to England, but has never returned to either. Yet.

We liked the sleepy nearby hamlet of Goolwa, with its local Steam Exchange Brewery serving small tasters of excellent ales and Hector’s, a sea shanty-like cafe right on the water in the shadow of the Hindmarsh Island bridge, but serving sophisticated food with a relaxed marine ambience.

Returning north our jaws dropped at the string of long, sandy and almost deserted beaches lining the Gulf’s coastline. Locals drive their roo-busting 4 WD wagons straight onto the sand, but we wandered down on foot and dipped our white toes into the cooling water of Sellicks Beach, before slurping ice creams on the path above Aldinga Conservation Park, its boardwalk descending to the water like the elongating ladder from a toy truck.

We’d like to have explored Kangaroo Island too whilst in South Australia but with another road trip to see Gill’s family in nearby Wallaroo to come, we’d run out of time. But a couple of days exploring the McLaren Vale and Fleurieu Peninsula were a good option. And the image of those beaches and the view from the Star of Greece cafe will stay long in the memory.