And in came the rain and those roaring forties

So we wake his morning to a full-on storm. I mean rain, not showers with the wind behind it. In this weather it is easy to imagine how a ship's captain could not hold his vessel against the raging of mother nature. And with the seas whipped up, we have a better view of some of the rock hazards. Bigger waves are breaking off-shore on hidden dangers. Altogether very bleak. We hear the coach arrive to collect the tour group as we live in bed a few minutes longer to ward off the cold. Slowly the other rooms empty and before long, we are the last room to leave.

We have received an email from the airline saying that due to operational requirements our flight is now departing later. We are now leaving King Island at 17:25 with arrival back in Wynyard at 17:55. From there we have a half hour drive to our accommodation in Penguin. I have managed to get in touch with Bruce Harpley who lives a few miles away in Ulverstone and we are catching up for breakfast tomorrow morning en-route to Launceston. 

Gen again went into the Bakehouse for our breakfast and hooray, has managed to get me a Crayfish Pie (at $15!). It is delicious. In a soft curry sauce, which is what the Taswegians seem to put all their seafood in for pies - think fish, think prawns, think scallops (roe on) and now also think crayfish (lobster)! It had plenty of crayfish - both in big chunks and smaller pieces generously spread amongst the sauce. She bought herself another egg and bacon roll - both had been cooked to order. She enjoys her roll and I made sure I left her some of that scrumptious pie to taste!

Given the unpleasant weather today we decided to drive along the other fully sealed road on the Island. We had wanted to visit the Cultural Centre but as the main 'tourist season' (March) is done, it is now only open by appointment. 

You know, there is a huge opportunity going begging here. The motel, which is for sale, is very tired and the restaurant is under different management. Yet the coastal location is supberb overlooking the rolling sea with private access to a small rock sheltered beach. I have no idea what the sale value is, but even if it were $1M, another investment of $500K+ to revamp the rooms, restaurant and the grounds (including the access road) and you could have a great return with groups - and especially golf groups. But I digress (again) 

Naracoopa is sited on the east coast about halfway up the coast and the mid-point between Grassy and Cape Wickham where we went on our first day. 

Naracoopa reminded us of many of the sleepy coastal townships that can be found right along the East Coast of Australia. In fact, it reminds me very much of Woodgate of a few years ago. There is one street fronting the beach with most of the homes being holidays homes that are deserted at present. There is evidence of some newer building works happening - you know the time - those slip, sultry buildings in the colour of their surroundings so as not to compete with the landscape - filled with timber and glass. Personally, I can't imagine that in a few years they will remain as schmick. The timber will cop a lot of weather, as will the tin rooves like we have seen elsewhere on the island, and although I would love to be sitting in a warm house looking out through large picture windows - but honestly, keeping them clean against all that salty water would be a *itch to clean! (Gotta love our textured Kosciusko glassed windows back home - they require little cleaning!  😉)

Just "a few kilometres north", remembering the mud map as opposed to anything accurate, near Sea Elephant Bay, is supposed to be Blowhole Beach. So off we set. The road is on the map, so we are safe, albeit somewhat sandy. Gen does a great job navigating the potholes (and then we come on some Council workers doing some grading!) and when we get out to Blowhole Beach there is already one car there. Given the soft sand and the rain, it is decided that Gen will go have a look and see whether the walk is Maria-doable. She comes back in less than 10 minutes to say that if there is a blowhole, she can't find it, nor can she find any landform that would even remotely look like it could produce a spout of water of any form. By now, there are another two cars parked here - and we cross paths with another couple of people that we've seen a few times over the last two days. 

We are the second car to leave and we turn left back towards Naracoopa and not continuing on an increasingly challenging road further to Sea Elephant Bay. There is a sign advertising coffee, but like other operators, I guess they have headed for the mainland for winter - closed. So a quick nip down to the long wharf where once there was sealing prevalent, but no longer.

Turning back for Currie we opt to stay on the fully sealed road and this time not take the scenic route. Gen is now sick of gravel roads and sandy tracks - she can now say "been there, done that!" Its getting late for lunch and although we have loved the great pies from the King Island Bakehouse, we are also craving something that is not a pie by now. One of the three golf courses on the Island is next door to the motel where we stayed, so we called in there to see if we could get some lunch.

Yes, we can. It is fairly basic fare but my burger and Gen's battered fish (Gummy = shark) and chips was fresh and crisp. This restaurant is being operated by people of Indian descent - if only I could be sure that the curry on offer was not too spicy, I would have preferred to give it a go, but alas my mouth and stomach take so little heat these days.😪

We continued down to Beach which is just beyond the motel, down the next dune so to speak and found the other big industry here - the King Island Kelp Factory. 

Bull kelp is harvested from the beaches of King Island by independent contractors. At present there are only 6 licensed harvesters, who must take only from what mother nature has 'donated'. They cannot harvest from the rocks. The kelp is dried on high, hanging S shaped hooks, then racks to air dry, before being fed into wood fired kilns for dehydrating. Most of the Australian supply is shipped to Ireland for processing into Alginate Acid which is used extensively in the food and pharmaceutical industries, just to name two.

One last destination to visit before we leave this interesting destination. Located close to the airport, we visited the award winning King Island Distillery. Owned and operated and Heidi Weitjins, this was a gem of a find. They distil King Island gin, vodka, brandy and  limoncello. Gen is really taken with the Ruby Grapefruit Spirit, and thankfully they can arrange post, so we relieve them of some of their stock (hic). One gin in particular is interesting. Heidi's partner is a cray-fisher and they took a barrel of their gin and aged it at sea! It has a different taste - no doubt influenced by the cask being exposed to the salt-ladden air. The cellar door is actually their distilling plant, and as we taste and discuss each sample with Heidi, her partners are beginning to bottle the last of the Gin from that sea-aged barrel! We drove right past it at first, following google maps which takes you beyond it. The trick is to follow the signs, even if it doesn't look like a cellar door! More evidence of the poor maps.

At the Airport, we leave the car, with keys in the ignition, as per instructions, and head into the terminal. We are early by about 2 hours, but really, there is little else to see given the remaining time. There are only 9 people booked on the plane, so again they have allocated the back row to us. BUT, there are about 40-50 people at the airport terminal. We see two jets - a Sharp Airlines and a REX plane plus a number of smaller planes. Turns out, we watch 4 other planes leave before ours lands, disgourging another tour group, and is ready for departure. Our plan is flying to Launceston via Wynyard.

Gen is very very tense - it is very cloudy and she is apprehensive about possible turbulence. One belted in, she grabs the seatbelt from the seat between us and wraps it tightly around her hand. I tell her that the trick is to try not to get too tensed up and suggest that she hold my hand instead. "But I don't want to hurt you" she says. You won't I tell her. The take-off was a little bumpy, but it was surprisingly smooth thereafter. I keep asking her if she can see land in an effort to keep her mind off her fear and she visibly relaxes. Finally we see land and can identify The Nut at Stanley and Table Cape just a little further east before we touch down.

So, King Island done and dusted. I am glad we went, but it was nothing like what we were expecting. All I can say is that the marketeers have done a fabulous job. For the Island itself, it needs some major investment and renewal.

Back in the car, or as Gen 'lovingly' refers to it, the POS, having paid the ridiculous sum of $12 for 3 days parking, we head back through Burnie and further east to our overnight stop in Penguin. The motel is right on the main road, with a rail line plus freight train behind us. The unit is HUGE and well set-out and supplied for someone with mobility challenges.

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.