tasmania

Tasmania: my last ISOP trip and my last big Australia travel adventure. For starters— do you know where Tasmania is? Well if you had asked me six months ago I would have given you a blank stare. And if you had asked if it was a country I would probably have given you a hesitant “yes?” So if you don’t know, as I didn’t, Tasmania is off the south coast of Australia and is, in fact, one of the six states of Australia. Everyone who goes to Tasmania comes back to report that it is one of the most scenically beautiful places— it is.

day 1: hobart

Our trip began at 8:00am on Sunday morning in Tasmania so I flew in on Saturday afternoon to check out the city of Hobart. I arrived in Hobart around 3:00pm only to discover that the well-known Saturday Salamanca market I wanted to check out ended at 3:00. So I checked into the hostel, put on my headphones and set out to explore the city. I remembered very quickly, however, that I do not particularly enjoy walking amongst shops for hours on end, so I made my way down to the waterfront. I meandered amongst the piers and docks and boats in the harbor and stumbled upon some art galleries and studios along the esplanade. Here is a picture of the waterfront:


I had dinner with the company of my book and then headed back to the hostel for the night. I contemplated, in my wanderings, the fact that I have not (and will not) make it to Sydney. I have been asked on numerous occasions if I have been, whether I intend to go, etc. etc. No. I have not been, and don’t feel a particular need to. [Random additional note: Australians not from Melbourne seem to want my answer to be “yes” that I have been to Sydney or have a desire to go… it is their big city, whereas Melbournians smile to themselves when you respond that you have been living in Melbourne, love it, and don’t see any reason to go to Sydney… it is their rival.] If I went to Sydney it would be to say I had been, and perhaps to get the classic tourist snapshots of the Sydney Opera House and whatnot. But in reality I much prefer to spend my weekends in the outdoors… away from the city. (And additionally, the time to go to Sydney would have been for the Mardi Gras, were I to have gone). So… I enjoyed my afternoon in Hobart but was looking forward to the beginning of our outdoors adventure and getting away from the city.

day 2: tasmanian devil park and port arthur

Our group met at the Pickled Frog Hostel in Hobart at 8:00am on Sunday morning. The first event of the trip was to stop at the Tasmania Devil Park. I had seen a Tasmanian devil when I went to Phillip Island but this time I got to see them in Tasmania. You would think you would want to see them outside the context of a park if you were where they are naturally from, but let me tell you— you really * wouldn’t * want to encounter these in the wild. We arrived at the Tasmania Devil Park in time for the morning feeding where we learned that Tasmanian devils are known for having the strongest jaws in relation to their size of any animal in the world, and are the largest meat-eating marsupial (did you know that they’re a marsupial?) Apparently they don’t have any of the qualities that most meat-eaters do (they aren’t fast or smart… they don’t have a good sense of smell), so to make up for that they can digest almost anything (diseased road-kill for example) and can crush the bones and eat those too; they can’t afford to be picky, and they aren’t. So we watched them being fed… and heard them crushing bones. Gruesome. We also learned that Tasmania devils have just recently been added to the endagered species list. They are dying rapidly of a cancer that can be spread... through their bite. It is one of only two known cancers in the world that can be spread. We also watched a flight show at the Tasmania Devil Park. Here is a picture of one Tassie devil ferociously trying to get the other one out of the underground hole where there might be some food left:


From the Tasmania Devil Park we drove to Port Arthur. Port Arthur was first established in 1830 as a timber-getting camp and in 1833 became a punishment station— those who were repeat offenders in the penal colonies in Australia were sent to Port Arthur. The men (it was all men) who were sent to Port Arthur were used as physical labor for timber-getting and export production. The most interesting story of Port Arthur, I thought, was the Point Puer Boys’ Prison. The Point Puer Boys’ Prison operated from 1834-1849 and was filled with street kids from British slums. The youngest boy to be sent there was only 9 years old! The object was to equip these boys with skills through trade training and set them up to be law-abiding citizens. The boys were taught trades like carpentry, shoemaking, blacksmithing, tailoring, bookbinding and stone cutting. Many of these boys became successful in their trades but many others spent their whole lives in the convict system. Point Puer was seen as a second chance for them though. The Port Arthur penal settlement closed in 1877 and has been a tourist site since immediately after its closure. It was a very cool place to walk around. Sort of like touring Alcatraz but with its own unique character, of course, and much more dilapidated buildings. We also went on a ghost tour at night… good times.

Here are two pictures of Point Arthur… the first is a view from the harbour cruise we went on and the second is of the remains of one of the structures on the site:



day 3: wineglass bay and tessellated pavement state reserve

The second day of our four-day trip was the least exciting and involved the most driving. We were supposed to do a three and a half hour walk to Wineglass Bay in Freycinet National Park but… the wheel fell off of our trailer. We were traveling with three buses: a 24-person mini-bus and two 10-passenger vans. And we had a trailer for luggage on the back of the bus. As one of our guides was trying to back out of the parking lot in the morning he forced the trailer the wrong way and… they decided to put it on the smaller van halfway through the day. And then… a couple hours later we pulled over to the side of the road because the van with the trailer on it had pulled off the road… the wheel had fallen off. Not the tire, the entire wheel. (It was clear to all of us that this was because of what had happened in the morning, even though they seemed to be pretending it was not). So we crammed all the stuff into the back of the two small vans and abandoned the trailer on the side of the road (we acquired a new one the next day). Anyway, we were supposed to go on this long walk down to Wineglass Bay but as a result of the trailer fiasco we only walked out to the Wineglass Bay lookout instead. It was a beautiful view but it definitely would have been nice to spend more time outside that day. Wineglass Bay:


Oh! We also stopped briefly (I think this was when they switched the trailer to the other vehicle… but no matter) to look at the Tessellated Pavement State Reserve. Tessellated pavement is a natural phenomenon… I read the sign but couldn’t recall for you exactly how it is formed. It looks very man-made but it isn’t. Here are two pictures:



day 4: chudleigh honey farm, mole creek caves and cradle mountain national park

The third day of our trip was filled with three small excursions (and again, too much driving). We stopped at the Chudleigh Honey Farm where I tasted more flavors of honey than you can possibly imagine. I didn’t even know honey could be flavored— I don’t think I had ever given that any consideration. We then drove from there to the Mole Creek Caves and went on a cave tour. Picture of an awesome formation in the cave (which is, clearly, lit up by unnatural light):


After our cave tour we drove to Cradle Mountain National Park where we went for a short walk in the last remaining sunlight. Here are two pictures for you… Cradle Mountain in the fading sun and me at Dove Lake (1- pardon the hair 2- Sari- a reflection picture especially for you!):



day 5: cradle mountain hike

The last day of our trip was my favorite, without a doubt. My sentiments about spending time outdoors were solidified, yet again. I woke up at 5:30am, as planned, but to the undesirable sound of rain. I added hiking boots to my pajama attire and trudged outside into the dark to try to find out if the plans were being changed due to the weather. I did not see our guides but ran into several fully dressed, ready-to-go hikers eating breakfast and concluded that I should join them. We drove away from the cabins at 6:15am and made our way in the misty, foggy, rainy, dark to the car park at the head of the trail. I do not have any quality photographs from the morning’s adventure because 1) I didn’t want my camera to get rained on and 2) the hike we did would have had spectacular mountain lake views… had the weather been different, but as it was, there wasn’t much to photograph. (I suppose I could have posted a comparison picture of the view of Dove Lake after our hike to contrast with the one from the previous afternoon… but just picture a grey square— that is what it would have looked like). Some people continued to be as snap-happy as always but… why take a picture of the whiteness? Their response, of course, was for the memories. But not all memories have to be contained in photographs. Some memories can be simply memories. I would try to convey the morning to you… but my memories are not best represented in words. The short version goes something like this: The first half of the mountain was stairs (which, let me tell you, was rough at 6:30 in the morning). There was ice covering much of the trail. And I have never been so glad to have waterproofed boots, rented rain pants, and a Gore-Tex rain jacket in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever even worn hiking boots and a rain jacket at the same time before. But I appreciated them more than you know, that is for sure. Just for kicks… below is one of the three pictures I took that day. I attempted to capture the weather and the hike and the reason I didn’t bother to take more pictures: