Tasmania and the Breathtaking Vistas of the Devil's Playground

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Hobart: Part 1

After convincing Melanie to join me on my trip to Tasmania, we had only to follow through to do it, which we did, to quote my favorite book, . Our trip was full of synchronicity, felicity, and a general sense of good times! Tasmania's one of those places that on a map looks like a good fun-filled week. But in reality, you need a good long month to do it justice.

When we arrived in Hobart around midnight, we had planned to head out in the morning somewhere to the Tasmanian wilderness, but had trouble getting motivated to leave the charming little city, and instead wandered around the delightful Saturday market, which was filled with all sorts of goodies, some of the usual sort, and some truly bizarre specimens, which only added to our enjoyment of the scene. We decided upon taking our time and leaving Hobart the next day instead. In the meantime we scored a tent, which we were looking for for $20 from a couple of girls who were flying out and didn't want it any longer. Good deal.

While walking around we met some people who were riding their bikes to raise awareness for sustainability, and going into schools to teach kids how to make simple choices that greatly reduces their impact on the environment. We started talking and soon found out that one of the riders was from Calgary, and were invited to join their finale, as it was the last day of their ride, after arriving in Hobart after 3 months of cycling from Sydney. We had such a great time, met wonderful and moving people and made some great contacts. The evening was a a rare gem.

Feycinet Peninsula

Our first stop once we did get out to the woods was the Feycinet Peninsula near wineglass bay. The camping was out near wineglass bay, a beautiful bay tucked into the peninsula, with a long white beach, surrounded by scrub and small mountains. We met up with a couple of girls, one from Germany and the other from the Netherlands and set out for the day-long hike over the hills and to the bay. We were not disappointed with the views, and the alternating scenery was more than enough to keep us interested in each new discovery. We crossed the isthmus and headed to the other side to yet another bay and decided to go for a swim in the frigid waters brought up from the Southern Ocean (which, by the way, has somewhat recently been included as a distinct ocean due to currents, distinctive flora and fauna, and other criteria that separate it from the other three oceans it makes contact with).

It really was freezing, but like any so called "temperate" water (10-20 degree) your body numbs quickly and you can play a while. Gratefully, there was a quick drop-off so I did not have to tackle Melanie again. The previous day I had to stalk her like a polar bear and pounce before she'd get in. We dried off and decided to head back. Our pace was quickened by the Dutch girl who was convinced that lightning coming from the less-than-ominous-we-may-or-may-not-drizzle-on-you clouds was going to light up the forest around us leaving us to burn to death like protesting monks. It was a little dramatic to say the least, but she was rattled, I'm sure, by her close encounter with two snakes, neither of which I saw, but are common enough to see.

The snakes in Tasmania are all poisonous, some ridiculously so, like the tiger snake, so it's understandable that would shake her. I'm glad not to have seen them. I mean I would have liked to have seen them, but I don't like the idea of being close enough to be bitten by one and then having to walk out of the bush in the hope that I didn't die before reaching civilization. Dad, Tassie might be out for you, as beautiful as it is.

It was such a beautiful place, but we decided we'd head out the next day to see a little more of Tasmania. The freezing wind that piped up that night made it clear that we'd made a good choice. After our hike we went into the tiny, tiny town and had fish and chips. Before our arrival in Tasmania, Melanie had never had fish and chips. So I feel proud to have introduced her to my "how can we make healthy foods heart-cloggingly unhealthy" culinary heritage. I didn't feel so bad when she suggested we have chocolate cake for dinner. That's my kind of lady!

An Unexpected Journey to Hobart

We awoke the next morning, sort of. It took us a while, and we had to run, with full packs, in order to catch the park shuttle. I got to the ranger station just in the nick of time. We caught it, but we missed our bus. Melanie, with her penchant for leaving things behind, had forgotten her little bag, wallet, money, passport, and other important pieces of property on the shuttle. Damn, eh. But trusting in the kindly nature of the Tasmanian people, who really are wonderful folks, we waited for the shuttle to return and the driver handed the bag back to Melanie; the gaggle of children in the bus had left the bag unmolested - see you haters, kids these days aren't all so bad. We were up the creek for catching any kind of bus until the next day, but we had thumbs and a black marker.

After about 45 minutes of drive by waves, shrugs, and blank stares, a couple from northern Tasmania on their way to Hobart picked us up. The fellow, was an Abalone diver and was proud of the fact that Tasmania had been wise enough to take up a sustainable practice in this industry for more than twenty years. Mel slept, as she can only with great willpower stay awake in moving vehicles, while I chatted the couple up, learning a great deal about the inner workings of Tasmania.

He explained to me the devastating turn the logging industry has taken over the last 5 years devastating the forests anywhere that is outside of the view of the tourist routes, sending the materials to Japan, but wreaking havoc on the natural state of Tasmania. He even said that some people believe, with some good reason, that they start the fires because of the overtime their men can get coming up to Christmas. This may seem extreme, but he echoes several others I've talked to including my friend Ryno who has been fighting against the logging companies for several years in the [quote=http://www.huon.org/weldvalley/]Huon Valley