Tasmania and the Breathtaking Vistas of the Devil's Playground

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, with grace and aplomb, yes, grace and aplomb. 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. I hate large corporation sometimes - okay - most times. Profit for today - forget domani!

We talked about Canada, global warming, the perilous diseases facing the Tasmanian Devils and more, and soon we were in central Hobart where they dropped us off, refusing to take any pay for their good deed. We were in the city only half an our later and had saved $30 a piece, enough to pay our way and a little of the return to Eaglehawk Neck.

Eaglehawk Neck

We had intended to rent a car in Hobart to go to Eaglehawk Neck due to the very inconvenient bus schedules in Tasmania, but the problem is that it was so expensive, so we took the incredibly inconvenient bus and brooked the 5:00am wake up call for Thursday morning all the same. Mel, remarkably stayed awake for most of the journey; I, however, began to pass out, and wisely she suggested I take my own double seat for my own good. What she doesn't realize is that it probably prevented her from being drooled on, which I'm sure is a miserable condition, especially considering my past bus-drool experiences. Who, after all likes drool down one's cleavage. I don't know for certain, given that I've lost weight and even at my heaviest 70kg / 155lbs never sported any of my own; truly I can only speculate, but I have a strong imagination.

We arrived to the beautiful spot, and missing our stop, the driver of the long bus made a U-turn to get us in the proper place. When we walked to our host's place 1km down a side road we found a gracious but quirky host. His site was very green, using rainwater, composting toilets, recycling and even a sheep to mow the grass. He was a bit of a Nazi, but a loveable one. He cajoled us with the threat of sitting in the bathroom while we showered if we were to use the shower for more than 3 minutes, and bellowed at the dutch couple for not rincing their recyclables, but he was endearing all the same, and made us consider our water usage more carefully in this severly parched land. Both Melanie and I appreciated this thoughtful, authoritative lesson in environmental consideration.

We went for a wonderful little walk that night, playing on the rocks, and walking across lands I was weary of due to the heavily marked signs: "Trespassers will be prosecuted." Mel was nonplussed. In Spain the coastline cannot be owned privately, and so it was not even a consideration. It was only when I explained that going up to this person's boat could possibly get us thrown in jail, that she relented to my more cautious / lame nature. On a similar level of lameness, she commented that she liked my jokes, which I warned her would only go downhill from there. Again nonplussed she smiled and we carried on.

The next day we decided we would continue on for another day-long hike, which proved to be filled with a bounty of beautiful sights. The Tasman peninsula is rugged and eroded with a cornicopia of wonderful formations to titilate and impress anyone who wishes to see it. The long white sandy beaches littered with no less than three types of jellyfish, one the size of large hubcaps, another the notoriously painful and hilariously condom shaped bluebottle jellies, also known as the Portugese-man-o-wars; they pack a powerful and regrettable sting and scar to allow you to remember Australia for years to come. I'm glad it was too blustery to take the woman's advice to go for a swim - that might have made a great blog story: "Pain and Suffering in Tasmania."

Instead we hiked across the ever changing landscape, looking down at the breathtaking vistas, sometimes a little too breathtaking for my liking. There was one set of rocks set like a balcony over the cliff face, which I wanted to look down over, but couldn't bring myself too, and when Melanie did it I felt dizzy and had to turn away, fleeing to the relative safety of the woods. That fear is totally irrational. It's not so much the fear of heights I think, but rather the fear of falling that gets me. Why it makes me want to die to see someone else looking down over the edge, though, is beyond me, but it makes me ill with fear....past life traumas perhaps :) Mel stopped tormenting me and we carried on with the rest of our hike, lasting us for most of the rest of the day.

Return to the Mainland

Upon returning to Hobart we went in search of a Teddy Bear, not for any particular reason, but that Mel had been talking about them for some time. She had to be talked down away from a Japanese girl's huge plush toy - Japanese girls pack the weirdest things, seriously, it's little wonder I have had to help several carry their bags upstairs. If you can't lift it, don't bring it - Anywhoo... we saw a teddy bear shop and thought it would be a good time. The store had a wonderful smell and I couldn't place it. I asked "what's that smell?" this wonderful new aroma? The woman replied - Lemon. I felt a little like in Dumb and Dumber when Jim Carrey's character asks: What's the soup d'jour?" and the waitress replies: "The soup of the day." To which he thoughtfully responds "Mmmmmm I'll have that." Yes it was a stupid moment for me to savour.

We spent the bulk of our afternoon in the free museum in Hobart, which had a fascinating exhibit on Antarctica. I've become rather obsessed with the place lately, reading a book on it, trying to figure out how the hell to get there - it's not quite unhealthy, but somewhere in the vicinity of it.

Returning to Melbourne proved to contain just enough time for me to get all the things done I need to, which was a lot. It was tough saying good-bye to people, and saying good-bye to Melanie proved to be the hardest of the last 6 months. I hate good-byes, and though you'd not know it from looking at me on the outside - I'm usually smiling and carrying on, but they tear me apart inside: That's why you can't come into the airport with me dad :)

Adelaide for Christmas is next up and will, I'm sure, prove to be a remarkable adventure. I already have some stories up my sleeve to tempt you with for my next blog, such as the adventures of Evil Santa, and tales of Black Pete.

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