We move to Wynyard in the North

A late night following the trip to Strahan for the day has well and truly taken its toll today and this afternoon I hit the wall big time. I've just re-surfaced after a couple of hours sleeping to have dinner. We are presently watching Magical Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald while sitting under a blanket at the foot of the air-conditioner draught. You forget how cold it can be on the Coast and what a different cold it is to the cold of the mountains. It is a little 'damper' As though the cold air is carried on the droplets of the air.

Snippets of the show 'The Ship That Never Was" last night come back unbidden. I swear I will never look at a vegetable steamer the same way again - it became a jellyfish flittering open and closed and when directed to sit, the audience cast member with the steamer became a box jellyfish. Get it? Sit. On a box. Box Jellyfish!

This play at one glance is full of fun and nonsense, but in reality, it is so much more. There is so much wit, social comment and references to current and past opinions, stances and stories that you really need to hold Richard Davey (the writer) and his actor daughter, Kiah is quite some esteem. I would have loved to spend some time with her after the play, but the light was fading fast and Gen wanted to be closer to our accommodation in Queenstown 45 minutes away before dark hit. It still feels a little strange that at after 7pm it is still light - daylight saving finishes here on Sunday, so we can take advantage of that extra hour for more sleep!

Our stay at the Gold Rush Inn has been unexpectedly comfortable. At the time of booking, we were having so much trouble finding accommodation that we took their last room, which just happened to be the Executive Suite. To be honest, it was a little more expensive than what we were hoping to pay, but believe me, it was worth every penny. We get the feeling that it must have, at one time, been the manager's residence. It is adjacent to the Reception and is the only room with undercover parking. There was a king-sized bed, a full lounge with a smart TV (and streaming service access!!) plus a full-sized kitchen with full-sized fridge, microwave, stove (not that we needed it) and a pod coffee machine! The table and chairs comfortably sat 4mpeople. We have had the space to bring e v e r y t h i n g out of the car to try to sort out what is being posted home, and what we will continue to carry, knowing full well that we will probably buy more souvenirs!

After checking out we head into town to have a look around Queenstown. The Mining Museum is very comprehensive. Its like the Military Museum back home, while the title refers predominantly to the mining activity and history, the Museum also has an amazing collection of the social past of Queenstown. There are surely a number of people here who have collected every little item that relates to the living of lives in Queenstown - there are rooms and rooms and rooms devoted to it!

Some displays are indeed very unique - there is a whole room dedicated to the Mining Disaster of 1912 where a fire broke out, killing 42 men. Amongst all the memorabilia was a list of the miners, their personal status (single, married, family man etc) and what compensation was paid. While the average appeared to be around 200 pound, some were as low as 10 pound and the largest was 700 pound. It seems that where a bereaved widow with children to support negotiated, she was taken advantage of, whilst the lawyer father of another single miner negotiated that highest figure. Seems that enterprise has changed little over the years, with the powerful taking advantage of those with less or no power.

We walked through the 7 rooms on the ground floor and there are another 16 floors on the two stories above us. There is no lift, and when I asked Gen if she wanted to go and take a look, she said no, that museums are not really her 'thing'. "Why then did we come here?," I asked to which she said, "I know you  like them!" Ain't that love!! She did however, find some of their geology collection of crystal specimens quite interesting.

From here we drive into the Town Centre sand walk the couple of blocks. Oh good, there is the Post Office - we buy post bags and boxes to pack for home. And although is cost a tidy sum, it is still cheaper than excess baggage fees will be! And it gives us a chance to take a photo of the orange shop. It is not open, and with black plastic dropsheets hiding everything behind the window display, we will never know if in fact it every traded. It is bizarre and quaint and unusual and quirky all at once.

We are headed back over the mountain ranges through to the north coast. In readiness for our side trip to King Island on Monday, we have decided to stay in Wynyard for the next couple of days, and do a few day trips from here. We have a cabin at the LeisureVille Caravan Park, on the Old Bass Highway here in Wynyard, right across the from Freestone Cove looking out across the bay and the mouth of the Inglis River to Table Cape - an imposing plateau jutting into the waters of the Tasman Strait. It is nice to have beach views again after all those majestic mountains.

The drive over began in the mountains and I think that Gen is well and truly over the hairpins and ups and downs for the minute. One minute we are looking skywards at the dominant Dolerite Crags, the next we are travelling though dark tree'd tunnels through the rainforests. As I peer deep into the blackness, there are occasional shafts of light piercing the dense foliage and illuminating a single tree or fern, or at best, a glade. The closer we get to the coast, the thinner the trees become. No longer are they the lush growth of the ages, but are now the ordered, geometric, linear plantings of hardwood forests. No matter how clever man might be in growing timber for use, we can never match the beauty and mighty strength of mother nature with her trees of immense girth and ageless wisdom. 

We take a side detour to visit Zeehan - how many towns in Australia can claim to begin with a 'Z'? Dr Google (using the Austpost site) tells me there are 11! There are a number of small disparate museums here, and we again run into the hot rod cars towing vintage caravans that we saw at The Wall the other day. However, you could only buy a combined ticket at $25 per person - that explains why people were looking over the colourbond fence at the Railway museum. They would do better to offer a ticket to a single museum and discount tickets to multiple museums, so they did not lose all funds. I mean $50 for two of us to see the one museum we wanted to visi?! Nope. Not wanting to leave without spending any money, we stopped at the coffee cart outside the museum and bought coffees and pies - they are really good here.  

Back to the main road, we pass through Rosebery where there is supposed to be a good bakery - well, there might have been one. Not any more, it is closed and the shop marked For Sale in the window. There is an IGA with a post office franchise. Every other shop in the town is closed. This is an area in serious economic decline. I guess that even mining has an end-date.

So we push on. Closer to the coast, we now return to those idyllic pastoral scenes - cattle being fatted in green fields, hay stock-piled for the winter, wrapped tightly in green or lilac wrappings. And the roadwork. Yep, kilometres and kilometres at 40 kph. we pass over newly laid bitumen and the smell takes me back to memories of my father-in-law who carried bitupave for the last of his working years. High above Burnie, we again see the sea as diamonds sparkling in the afternoon sun. Its a sight for tired eyes.

In recognition of our return to the coast, we decide on Fish 'n' Chips for dinner. Needing milk, once we check in we head into the town centre, passing a seafood outlet - right on the beach! Gen will come back later for our order. Turns out seafood is expensive all over the country - they have Trevalla for $50/kg fresh and as a meal combo, it is $23 per serve which turns out to be battered. However, that batter was so light - think tempura batter - and the fish so fresh, so white. It is a truly delicious dinner.

A quiet night in watching some telly (supposed we really should go out late to try to see the Aurora Australis, but seriously we are too tired). Night all. we plan a sleep in tomorrow before a trip over to Stanley 45 minutes away so Gen can show me The Nut! Hope the chairlift is working - that'll be the only way I will be going up it!!

Hope you are all well. Avagoodweekend as the saying goes. 

The mid-west of Tasmania also deserves exploring.

Happy birthday to Gen - my travel companion, my partner in crime and my rock. I hope that you are enjoying your holiday in Tasmania as much as I am.

 

After reading much on what to see, do, taste and experience in Tasmania, before we had left home, I was determined to try to see some of the lesser visited areas of this amazingly beautiful state. After our visit to the Cradle Mountain National Park, we awoke this morning looking up to an altogether different view. The clouds still hang low over the peaks, and as the day warms and the clouds and their trailing mist lift, the 'different beauty' of the peaks around us make themselves known.

Following a 6 episode binge of season 2 of Bridgerton last night, this morning we sleep in. Looking at touring options around here last night, (and knowing that Thursday has been set aside for Strahan) we decided to drive to Derwent Bridge to visit The Wall.  If you know of it, then this is enough information. For those who don't click here. 

The morning is drab, which is kind of fitting for the setting we find ourselves in. 

This is an active mining town. Queenstown sits low in the belly of the mining area, surrounded by mined waste, new tailings and rocky outcrops currently being sifted for copper. The past mining and mass logging has created a surreal and rocky 'moonscape'. There is a dusty air, touched with the whiff of rotting eggs - i.e. sulphur (previously used in the refining of gold). And with that dusty air, there is a divide in the town. It is obvious to my thought at least, that there is the old and the new.

The new part of town wears a coat of success - there are enterprises flourishing with locals and visitors alike popping in and out of mixed businesses,service ships and cafes. The Empire Hotel, home to the The Rusty Iron Thai restaurant where we purchased the delicious dinner last night has any number of people milling around outside, obviously waiting on orders. The library is new, bold and modern in design. The hospital and Council sit snug in one of the side streets and, on the same side of the railway line as our motel, there are newer, more modern and perhaps slightly more affluent homes.

In the back streets behind the main shopping area, up the hills of the old tailing mounds, the houses are older, smaller, tired and dusty. They sit tightly side by side on small blocks without adornment or gardens. Windows are small and the construction materials are mismatched at best, perhaps dangerous (think asbestos) at worst. Out in the open, the reality of class divide silently screams. 

But, there is someone with a quirky, cheeky outlook. One of the nameless shops, like many other regional towns, there are plenty of vacant shops - some more recent, others with the layer of ages old dirt. Although not appearing open, it is artistically displaying all things orange. Bold, brassy, colourful and confident ORANGE. Everything from orange tupperware containers that we (or our mums) all once had, to an orange vacuum cleaner to orange crockery to orange linens to orange furniture! And whilst having a look around town this afternoon, we think that we found his home - this one was painted the EXACT same shade. And Gen thinks she might have seen the owner earlier, a long-bearded gentleman and his family - and he and his she are dressed in that same bright hue. A spark of bright in a town of drab. Fascinating! 

Queenstown is where the historic Western Railway operates from, but no amount of pleading can secure us a seat, they are booked out until mid-April. Now we are getting worried, as we want to go on the Gordon and Franklin River Cruises while we are here on the west coast as well. Turns out, we buy the last two seats for tomorrow - we hear (in the background while on the phone to the company), the exclamation as the other salesgirl in the office is just too slow to snag those last two seats for her cliemts. 

Before we travelled from Queensland, and while we have been here, there have been numerous adverts extolling people to visit the West Coast. It seems that locals (or perhaps the tourism gurus) feel that the trinity of Devonport, Launceston and Hobart, have garnered too much of the tourism $ and they are looking to balance the state's income somewhat.  Well, I think that they might have been altogether too successful. Accommodation has been very hard to come by and tours too, we are finding are full, or close to. 

Queenstown is central - a great place to base yourself for visiting the west and central parts of the state. We will have a good look around here, visiting the rail and mining museums on Friday before we leave for the north.

Today, as I previously said, we went to Derwent Bridge to see The Wall in the Wilderness, generally just known as The Wall. This is an amazing undertaking by initially single artist Greg Duncan and more lately with his son. From his website:
"On the 1st March 2005 in one of the most beautiful parts of Tasmania I set out to undertake sculpting a wall that would be 3 metres high and over 100 metres in length.

The material would be Huon Pine.
Through an often arduous at times but also immensely satisfying journey and over a decade and half later I welcome you to visit what is simply known as The Wall."

He requests no photography as a sign of respect to the moral copyright that the artist has of his work.

The panels appear to consist of 21-22 pieces of laminated Huon that have been carved. Some parts are left unfinished, to allow the observer to better understand both the creative and carving processes. And he has achieved this beautifully. The outcome is amazing, outstanding, awe-inspiring and pure beauty. From an acknowledgement of the first peoples, to the flora and fauna of the region to the endeavours of people and industry. From the muscleature of the straining horses to the desperate tears of a bereaved woman with her lined face, the detail is exquisite. Greg Duncan now carves permanently, both in art and fine furniture. I can only imagine that the furniture through the impressive building is more of his wonderful works. The building is so fitting. A large long barn style with The Wall displayed down the centre back to back in two long constructed pieces - at times quite separate, at others, flowing seamlessly across the joins.

We make a purchase to share with a wood carving artist friend who will be absolutely appreciative of this skill. I hope that he shares it with other wood-carvers locally as they too deserve to see this skill.  

The building is warm against the chill wind outside. At one end is a huge open fire. At the other, unobtrusive yet also large with a diameter of just under a metre round is a large wood fired stove. It is almost sad to walk out into the chill air again.

The air is very nippy and Gen, in her inimitable style basely states "It's good I'm wearing my padded bra!"

Stomachs are telling us that its time for lunch. There is a small cafe a kilometre back down the road called the Hungry Wombat. Its small, but clean. Gen decides on a beef and salad burger and I have a Ham, Cheese and Pineapple (yeah, yeah I know there are no pineapples here) toastie. Now, as far as toasties go, that was probably the best I have ever had. It was toasted to the edge, but soft inside, and filled with good quality ingredients. So both crunchy and soft. 

The only disappointment is that there are no wombats!

Despite all the signs, and a little road-kill on Bruny Island, we have yet to see any wildlife in the wild!

Its 84kms from Queenstown to Derwent Bridge, but the road is very winding with tight corners, its up and down hills and mountains. It takes a full hour and a half to do that drive. We average about 60 kph and I am sure that Gen's arms and legs are aching. There were times when she not only sounded tense, she looked it too. The concentration on her face tells me she is a good driver (asif I had any doubts).

Travelling back, we turn right and make a stop at Lake St Clair. Another iconic jewel in the crown of Tasmania. The Tourism Board must be congratulated. They have done such a stellar job, that the bookings for accommodation and tour operations are at a premium at the moment. Not only have we had trouble finding accommodation, we have missed out on seats on the Queenstown Historic Rail trip. It is booked out for the next six weeks. That is a real disappointment as this was one of the two tours we had hoped to do from here. So first thing this morning, Gen places a call to the operators of the Gordon River Cruises - who traverse the Gordon and Franklin River Wilderness areas.  There are only two seats left and we can hear the other salesgirl in the background exclaim when she realises that those last two tickets have been sold to us! Awe had wanted the Upper Deck as the views are meant to be better, but cannot get a seat at any time in the next month. Robyn Dowling tells me that she booked six months in advance to ensure she had tickets for John's birthday celebrations when they visited. Too bad that I had not known that before I left. Trouble was, I don't have the luxury of being able to plan my life that far out!

Lake St Clair is one of Tasmania's jewels. It sits high on a plateau, surrounded by smaller, less impressive lakes. Carved out by glaciers over millions of years, Lake St Clair is Australia's deepest freshwater lake. Located at the southern end of the Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park, it forms part of Tasmania's Wilderness World Heritage Area and offers spectacular scenery. The environment around Lake St Clair is among Tasmania's most spectacular. Deep glacial lakes are fringed by dense forests of ancient pines, and the high mountains provide a dramatic backdrop. Despite an abundance of native wildlife in the area – we see none.

Lake St Clair is also one of the start/finish points of the 5-8 day Overland Track, one of the country's greatest bushwalks. As we arrive at the Visitor Centre, there is a group of what seems to be experienced, very committed walkers assembling to begin the trek. Certainly not my cup of tea, although Gen remarks that it is a walk that perhaps one day she would like to do - you have my blessing my sweet, I do hope that you do indeed give it a go.

Like at Cradle Mountain, there are a number of walks that leave from this spot. There is a short walk to the Viewing Platform that we can do. Its late enough in the afternoon that there are few people around, and as we stop initially at the top of the viewing platform and then later on the beach below, we have the vista before us to ourselves alone. It is truly a breath-taking sight. Just to the right is the jetty fro which the ferry leaves. It stands, alone, jutting into the waters like the man-made intrusion it is.

The only difference between the drive over was that it was a little easier as the rain had stopped. It seems that daily average temperatures here are not reached until between 2 and 3 in the afternoon. Its is a good day for driving as there is enough cloud cover that we are not squinting in the afternoon sun. Nearing Queenstown on our return journey, the fuel light comes on. Gen can't believe how much fuel we have gone through in the last two days, but trips up and down mountains, braking then accelerating (forget cruise control on a day like today) guzzles the gas so to speak.

Our repast tonight is simple fare. We break out some crackers, the rest of our smoked salmon, a couple of cheeses and chutneys and the Old Kempton Distillery Barrel Aged Gin with a local Mandarin, Lime and Bitters soda water - very tasty.

Tomorrow we are headed to Strahan for our cruise and then an early dinner before we go to see the play 'The Ship that Never Was' on the recommendation of so many people - friends and members of the Travelling Tasmania Facebook page that we have been following. Friday we will have a good look at the two museums here - Mining and Rail - before we head for the north-west coast.

Gen has had lots of phone calls, and messages for her birthday today - thanks for helping to make her feel special. 

And on a sad note to finish today's tale, we received news of the early passing of a friend back home. Farewell Michele, you will be missed, but not forgotten. 

Cradle Mountain is definitely not for the nursery

We had quite an unexpected good night last night. While we had not any prior knowledge, given that we got not only the last room at Cradle Mountain Highlanders, but the last room at Cradle Mountain period, I did not really hold the highest expectations for our accommodation. Perhaps I should have. For despite the quaint presentation, the cabin was very comfortable and apart from the over-priced Peppers Lodge, it was the closest to the action on the mountain. The small heater disguised as an olde-time wood burning stove, was ever so effective. Gen sweltered whilst I was toasty and ever so comfortable. We turned the heater down and even opened the door - in galloped the cool (cold) air and even I find it refreshing. The bedding was comfortable and I enjoyed nestling down in to a pillowy mattress under the warmth of woollen blankets and throws. However there was one terrifying moment when a leg cramp caught me in the wee hours of the morning. Gen worked wonders with some excellent massaging and it wasn't long before I was again enjoying warmth under the bedding.

This morning dawned bright and clear.  Gen's phone was informing us that the outdoor temperature at 7:30am was 9.1 degrees, but felt like 1.9 degrees. And I certainly wasn't going to argue with that - it seriously was that cold! But it was a lovely, sunny day. and there was much to look forward to.

Now, I am not sure how Cradle Mountain was given its name. It certainly has nothing to to with infants. And the only nursery it resembles is that of a cloud nursery - like any mountain of size. What I can tell you is that this whole area is the result of millenia of nature at work - the building of the initial range through the violent works of volcanic actions which was then followed by the work of water - in its liquid and solid states. There is still plenty of evidence of the work of one or more major glaciers - the steep side valley sides formed in the wide U that they leave in their wake, and still more recent waters trickling or roaring, from spot to spot dependent on where you are. Streams feed into the numerous lakes on the plateaux.

We drive across the road (almost quite literally, that was how close the Highlanders was to the entry of the Park. At this early time of the morning, we are amazed at the parking - not the lack of, but the plentiness of it! Fortunately for me, my Disabled Parking access allows me to get as close as I can to places to see, and thing to do. However, as the distances are not short, Gen has decided that this morning should be a wheelchair outing rather than crutches. The Visitor Information Centre has been well designed. It is striking in weathered steel and Tasmanian timbers, yet blends sympathetically into the apline landscape. The story of the first peoples, their understanding of such a delicate environment and their guardianship of the same is told with pride and reverence. The explanations of the development is both comprehensive and yet written in such a way to be understood by people of all levels of comprehension. Quite and art, as anyone who writes will know (😉😉 )

As we had purchased out National Parks Pass at the Visitor Information Centre in Hobart, there are no further payments needed to enter into and partake of the wonders of this place. I am quite amazed that there is not additional cost to access such splendour.  The information staff are very obliging and helpful in their suggestions of walks that are suitable for both the wheelchair and, for crutches. So it is decided, we will do the Dove Lake walk as far as the iconic Boat Shed - you know that one that graces almost every other poster for Tasmania - a simple, old boat shed sitting lonely by a lake. All starts well, we board the wheelchair accessible electric/diesel hybrid fuelled bus that departs almost without noise, almost as if not to interrupt the surrounding. If only it weren't huge and bright blue! Fails miserably to be unnoticed due to those two factors! It is a twenty minute ride to cover the ten kms from the Information Centre to Dove Lake. 

Our drive is a true Aussie icon. He has a sense of humour as dry as a cracker, sharing hilarious stories and jokes. Like the one where he tells the passengers of the last lady who died in the lake ( a doctor) after being "bitten on the bum" and followed it with the statement, almost as an afterthought that all others died in hospital! All too soon, we are at our destination - almost too soon! As the wheelchair is cumbersome and hardly a dainty exposure from a bus, we are the last to alight. This gives the opportunity for all the other people on this bus (they are full, with yet another bus-load waiting when we left our departure point.) The best of that is that by the time we are off, all the other people have already set out on their treks - some of them took their jaunts very seriously and I guess they might be in for the full 5-7 day walk of the Overland Trek - good on them. I have far less pretentious expectations - the Boat Shed will do me just fine. We walk along the boardwalk that meanders through the delicate landscape. I must commend the National Parks Service - they insist on people staying to formed paths, and then provide the means to effortlessly do so.

And then, disappointment looms. Ahead of us are a set of broad steps. No railing. Too narrow for the wheelchair, too wide for by current step. In other words, a roadblock so to speak. Bugger. I did so want to see it with my own eyes. But, it is what it is, as is my latest mantra. I insist that Gen continue on to see it. I have the most beautiful backdrop to my wait. Looking across the still waters of Dove Lake to the majestic peak of Cradle Mountain with its sweeping expanse to the valley below and the slightly taller Barn Bluff with the clouds enveloping its tallest peaks. They lift, and settle. As though the mountain itself is breathing, in and out, in and out. It is cathartic. And beautiful. Walkers in both directions pass me, waiting in my wheelchair. Most bid a good morning, the occasional one concerned that I am alone. I am happy to wait, watching one of the true wonders of the world while waiting for Gen. In time, she returns and we re-trace our steps to the bus. Disappointed that we have a different driver (sounds unfair).

Back at the Visitor Centre, it is time to warm up a little - yay, coffee! Gen and I shared a Tasmanian Meat Pie and a delightful piece of Coconut Kakadu Plum slice - fashioned after our grandmothers' coconut jam slice, but instead of a crushed biscuit base, this has a light chocolate sponge which allows the jam and the coconut to shine. Once done, it is back to the car. The receptionist had earlier explained that there were two flat, mobility friendly walks that we could do. The Rainforest Walk left from the back door of the Ranger Station. It is well designed for those with mobility restrictions, or for prams or little feet eager to run and jump. It follows a gentle grade down the hill to a small brook that leads into the Pine River falls that topple noisily over a rock ledge into the lower stream. Framed by Pencil Pines and myrtle trees, there is so much more to see. Signs remind walkers to not only look up, but also to look down. On the forest floor there is the detrious of the seasons passing, breaking down to provide feed for the lichens and the amazingly green, lush carpet of mosses. There are the sporadic fungi - a more common brown one and then right at eye level, an orange coloured, and orange named one, quite rare for this time of the year - more commonly seen around Christmas. Large and spongy, it looks right in place, and yet, is not. The sign for the Rainforest Walk says it is a 10 -20 minute walk and I am pleased to do it in under the half-hour with my crutches.

Back at the Ranger Station, a sign directs us 80m towards the Enchanted Walk - the other one recommended . At the end of the 80m, we come to a pedestrian crossing at the road with another sign pointing a further 30m on. At that point we have reached the start of the Enchanted walk path. Supposedly a 900m walk, traversing a much more open landscape now. Still some of those mosses but with few trees, and instead bushes of heath and bushes of native leptecophylla juniperina - the Mountain Pinkberry - supposedly edible, but Gen looked horrified when I said that i would eat one!
By now, in the base of the valley, and with the wind dropped, it is becoming warm, in fact very warm. I am still wearing my new cold-weather wind-proof jacket. Its heavy on my shoulders and I am really now feeling the length of these walks. Its time to recognise that I have limitations. We abandon the walk about 600m in and return to the road. I cross the small bidge, taking photos of yet more waterfalls, so I can reach a spot where Gen can bring the car to a stop.

Its now time to set out for Queenstown. The afternoon sun is dipping and the air has a decidely nippy edge once I had rid my shoulders of that jacket! We travel along the road with little other traffic. Probably just as well. The roads continue to travel up and down mountain sides, weaving around the bases of the peaks. There is evidence of landslips, and much roadworks, like in many places across the land. Whilst the state road speed limit might be 100 (unless otherwise posted, as we are oft reminded), poor Gen spends most of the time driving at about 60-65 kph. We head for Queenstown, and having read of the Montezuma Falls on a number of the Tasmanian Facebook pages, turn off but abandon the road in after about 6kms of narrow winding twists and turns when we cannot discern how much further the falls are on what has become a gravel road. Having missed the first turnandtowrds Queenstown, and so drive toward Rosebery and towards Zeehan before turning again towards Queenstown.

I obviously had not done enough research. while we are staying in Queenstown because of the lack of accommodation at Strahan, there is much to know of here. Perhaps the name of the motel, the Gold Rush Inn, should have provided a clue, but it didn't! Queenstown is a major mining town. Once a bustling centre of alluvial gold mining, they  now mine copper and have major hydro investments.  There is evidence of mining infrastructure from the past years, and you cannot miss the sight of current mining operations - the mine towers over the town - like a festering sore on the landscape. Whilst the mining operations must still clearly contribute well to the company that controls it, the town shows little of that wealth. The town, although with an air of permanence, looks and feels tired. I am not sure whether the dwellings are impacted by the outputs of the mine, or the lack of personal funds by the miners to spend on their homes.

The suite we have booked is large, we have a full kitchen, dining and loungeroom, bedroom and bathroom. I think that it might have been previously the manager's residence. And, joy of joys, we have Netflix! A bit puny of me, but tonight, sitting in front of the telly, eating Thai takeaway which rivals the best we have had anywhere, we revel in the tittilations of Season 2 of Brigerton!

An unexpected link to Maryborough

Again we sleep longer than we originally planned - one of the perks of being on holidays and in a fab bed!  We had planned to get up at 7:30 am, but Michael has set the alarm for 8:30 - ha ha ha - he never was a morning person!

A quick goodbye to Scooter just after 9:30 sees us head in to spend the morning giving Arrowtown some serious attention.  Scooter is originally from Europe and even she comments on the cost of living here. She and Grant have a small cottage that they are busily renovating and remodelling. Today she says it is valued at $1.4 million. And it is small - two bedrooms only. The airbnb room that we occupied is in a new built in area under the house.

Dating back to the mid 1800s, its main street is filled with the small original stores that graced it in its heydays when gold was being mined.  All of them re-purposed now of course. But still quaint and very twee.


We're off to 'Provisions of Arrowtown' a purveyor of all things local and foodie for breakfast.  Michael orders the big breakfast (of course), while I choose the Buckwheat Pancakes with grilled banana, blueberries and marscapone. And coffees of course. Those pancakes were as light as clouds and Michael's 3 eggs were poached to perfection. We are sitting in a back room, overlooking a Quince tree laden with growing fruits.


Once sated, we amble up the main street, stopping in at most of the shops. Some are surprisingly affordable, others not so - some of the merchants are really trying to make the most out of the many Chinese visiting the area.  And then we pause outside the local Sotheby's office (sure that gives you a hint!).  This property was the cheapest in their window! 

There are gold, jewellery, clothing, woollen goods, souvenirs, artworks shop that are interspersed with lots of eateries all doing a roaring trade.  The really noticeable thing here is that everyone from the young ladies in the Visitor Information Centre, to the sales staff in the shops and the wait staff all treat their visitors with open willing friendliness, whether you are buying or browsing. It is really noticeable and contributes to a wonderful warm feeling all through town. And because everyone is so friendly, all the visitors and smiling. And spending!!  If only we could bottle it and shake it all over home.

Arrowtown had its birth in the 1860s when the push to mine gold from the Arrow River was at its peak.  The original buildings in the main street have continued to evolve into the retail and service offerings of today.  And just like in Australia, where there was gold, came the Chinese.  The first orientals in the area didn't assimilate and created their own little village in the back streets towards the river and much to the annoyance of the European traders, the Chinese even set up their own shops.

Once the gold mining stopped being commercial, the town faded into the backdrop, meaning that there are still more than 70 historic sites remaining. In the 1950s there was a resurgence of interest in the area as a holiday destination. It is less than an hour to the summer friendly Lake Wanaka and even closer to the winter ski fields.

We were lucky to be wandering around today as the local farmers market was on in the local park. Cheeses, salmon, cured meats, fresh fruits, baked goodies - a foodies heaven. But we were also unlucky. We were putting some purchases in the car when I put the keys down to move a bottle of water. Promptly shut the boot and the car automatically locked. With the keys still inside.  A bad design flaw in the Ford Focus if you ask me. An hour later and $160 poorer, the local AA man has us back in the car.


And now to the link with Maryborough.  Sister (now Saint) Mary McKillop came to Arrowtown 20 years after she had set up the first catholic school in Maryborough, where she also set up a school for the local children.  Funny the things that link us across the waters, isn't it.

And locally, Irene S and Ann C both asked whether the lolly shop still exists.  We can happily report that yes it does, and it is still doing a roaring trade of old favourites and new offerings.

It is now early afternoon and we hit the road to head for Queenstown - about 25 minutes away.  And while the day was a cool summer day in Arrowtown, as we get closer to Queenstown, the weather also is closing in with lots of clouds again rolling down the mountainsides.  Donna had said that one of the must does here is the Gondola to the top of Bob's Peak.  St Frances is with us again as we get a car park about 100 m from the entry as another can pulls out.  The rain is beginning as we leave the car.  We manage to get into our gondola and up the mountain in just very light rain, so get one reasonable photo on our way up the VERTICAL mountain.  But by the time we peak out at the top, the rain has set in. 

We sit with coffees and wonder at the sanity of people who race the luges in the rain, but even more so, to the mountain bike riders who pay up to $900 for an annual pass to ride the gondolas up just to plunge down the mountain side - the very steep mountain side - even in the rain, and as we are told later, even in the snow!

We hang around for an hour or so hoping for clearer weather, but it is not to be, so we head back to ground zero thinking we might catch a movie - but can't find the cinema, so we head for Mossburn for the night.  A couple of reasons we chose here - it is on the road to Te Anua and Milford Sound, and it happened to have a vacancy - many places are still fully booked. The entire drive along what must be stunning scenery with towering hills and deep gorges along the length of Lake Wakatipu. Today however, through the veil of water they are merely shadows and outlines.  Not fair.

And finally I am gobsmacked at the large number of sheep (and cattle) that they farm per hectare here. Without a word of a lie, there were about 1,000 sheep on a 3 - 4 hectare block.  The rain isn't worrying them, what with their greasy wool coats.  The cattle on the other hand huddle in tight lines at the most protected parts of their paddocks - hides are not so waterproof!

We pull in to the carpark at the Mossburn Railway Hotel to check in and have dinner just before 7pm.  The rain continues and the temperature has plummeted.  The hotel is dry and warm with a roaring fire going. Drinks and dinner ordered and done, we head across the road to their new accommodation units - Wheels and Reels. 
My crumbed Blue Cod was delicious and Michael loved his Fisherman's Basket complete with mussels and scallops!

There is or was another link with home here - up until the 1970s there was a combined rail and road bridge over the Oreti River - very similar (although not as high) as our Dickabram Bridge!

Tomorrow promises to be clear and warm and we are hoping to do a day cruise to  Doubtful Sound - quieter and less crowded than Milford Sound.