No devils in Tasmania...but still a great time.

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An overnight ferry really is a civilized way to travel. We caught the Spirit of Tasmania ferry from the port in Melbourne, sailing at 7:30 in the evening. However, it was nearly the "taxi to Tassy" as our cab driver didn't really know where the passenger drop off was at the dock and he inadvertently got in the line for cars boarding the ferry - was he surprised...and the Aussie drivers got a good laugh out of it all. Easy boarding and a gorgeous cabin right up over the prow of the ship (our entire cabin on the Solway Lass could have fit in the bathroom here). We had dinner in a nice dining room, and enjoyed watching the Chinese family at the table next to us, consisting of a young boy, about 13, and his attractive parents, who spoke no English. He patiently translated everything from English for his parents, ordered their beers, and straightened out the server when the order was incorrect. As we were leaving Steve turned to him to congratulate him on his English and told him his parents must be very proud of him. Proud parenting has no language barriers and you could see the beaming smiles on all three faces.



We docked early the next morning in Devonport (6:30 a.m.) a small port town on the north shore of Tasmania, picked up a car and set off for Cradle Mountain National Park in the center wilderness area. With only two days in Tasmania, rather the race around the island, we decided to choose one special place and truly enjoy it. My brother-in-law Al introduced us to the idea of touching a place, versus really getting to know it, and we like his idea. So instead of just "touching" all of Tasmania, we're getting to know one its natural treasures.



Tasmania is lonesome and lovely, with two lane roads masquerading as the major thoroughfares, and you drive up hill and down dale, keeping a careful eye on the tattered road signs (or sometimes directions that just say turn right at the petrol station). If you want to take the scenic route, the town name will be enclosed in parentheses on the sign, but as far as we could tell every road we take is scenic. Mailboxes have risen to a folk art form here, and we whizz by kangaroos, dismantled old motorcycles, mythical creatures, and all manner of inventive species, sitting atop leaning fence posts, all waiting for their daily meal. There's lots of road kill here in Tasmania, with squashed carcasses littering the road liberally.



After a twisting, turning 90 minutes we arrive at Cradle Mountain Lodge - at first we thought we had missed the main road to the park, but no, this two lane mountain road is the only way there. Cradle Mountain Lodge is a lovely rustic lodge, composed of log cabins spread down a hillside, with a lovely main lodge and dining room. Taking pity on us boat people, they check us in early at 10 a.m. - I could hear the desk manager in the background saying "Just off the Spirit of Tassy - of course they need their room now" to the desk clerk in training. We collapse into bed for a brief nap, and then head out for an afternoon hike. A well known 65 km trek, called the Overland Trail, starts here, and ends up 5-6 days later on the west coast of the park. Except not everyone takes that long to hike it - every spring a group of crazy long distance runners runs it in a day. We start out at Ronny Creek, along a boardwalk over the marshy meadows of button grass, and soon the trail begins to climb up past Crater Lake. It's a combination of deep forest, breaking out into brilliant sunshine, with steps cut into the path. I'm not a strong hiker...but I always make it. The sky is a halcyon blue without a cloud in sight, with a cool breeze blowing in the 75 degree day. Apparently we've hit one of the most fantastic days for weather, as it rains 270 days a year here - guess we've brought our Cali weather with us. We're headed for Marion's Lookout, which we've been told has a spectacular view of Cradle Mountain, and as we pass the few other hikers we see going down, we inquire about the trail. After a couple of comments saying tough but doable, a nice couple our age gives us the real low down - very tough, top part hauling yourself up on a link of chains, and probably a good 2 hours round trip from here. Hmmmm..... At the penultimate decision point in the trail, we sit down for a cookie and slug of water, and chat up a nice German-Aussie woman, who convinces me of the sane decision to make...and now all I have to do is convince Steve that our hike will still be excellent even without the outlook. Then I look up and spy these tiny figures on a rocky crag far above us and Decision Made - there's no way I'm getting up there. Sometimes I have to think that maybe Steve is secretly relieved to have me as an excuse not to do everything and I'm happy to play the role...and it's nice to be senior citizens together. Of course, if you ask him, he could have made it... Cradle Mountain reminds us of Glacier National Park, with its craggy spires, sheer mountain faces and miles of views. We skip down the rock face of the trail - well maybe not skipping, there might have been some butt-sliding involved - past two gorgeous lakes, and then back to our cabin in the woods, to a well earned jacuzzi bath and a luscious dinner. We slept well that night!



After a hearty mountain breakfast the next morning we set out on the drive to Hobart. The front desk gives us a nice set of printed directions, which include such statements as turn right at the former church, and we set off over hill and dale again. Tasmania is hilly country, gorgeous with rugged peaks around every turn, and two lane roads that challenge your driving abilities....and you know how talented we are in that department. After about 90 minutes we get to National Highway 1, which goes through the heart of the island... of course I had assumed it would resemble some type of major highway but, nope, just a slightly larger version of a two lane road...I guess when the population of the entire state is around 500,000 two lanes is all that it takes to get around. We pass through many small towns, some just a collection of a few buildings, but local pride is big as they all have slogans on their sign boards...our favorite is the town that must be the home of renown cricketers, as their slogan is "We'll bowl you over."



Our lunch stop is in Oatlands, a small community of beautiful Georgian buildings, most built with convict labor nearly 200 years ago. The quiet street going through the town is lined with magnificent examples of Georgian architecture and it seems incongruous to find it here...but not when I understand more about the settlement history of the island. Settled by the British in the 1820's, it became a major dumping point for convicts and convict labor built much of the early infrastructure of the island. Tasmania seems much more British than other parts of Australia, with many place names redolent of England or Scotland - Tattersalls, Tunbridge, Melton Mowbray, Glenorchy, interspersed with native names such as Loongana and Mawbanna. Oatlands is capitalizing on its architectural treasure trove and is carefully preserving the buildings, and even revitalizing a 19th century mill, complete with working windmill, that is used to grind organic grains, and supplying flours to artisan bakers, including a fabulous one in town, the Companion Bakery, where we enjoy a luscious lunch.



We reach Hobart mid afternoon and the city is alive with action, getting ready for the Wooden Boat Festival tomorrow. Hobart has been named by Lonely Planet as one of the top ten places to visit in 2013 and we can understand why (bet you didn't think we were that cool to know to visit here...). It is a wonderful small city, streets lined with prominent 19th century mansions and magnificent older buildings, falling down to a snug harbor that docks working fishing boats and splendid sail boats. We spend the afternoon wandering the harbor area, wishing we could stay for the Wooden Boat Festival, and enjoying the bustle of the set up for tomorrow. Some of the vendors have their tents open and there are stunning handmade, wood inlaid canoes, and kayaks that look as fragile as dreams, with balsa wood frames covered with nylon. We explore the Salamanca area, with its arts and craft shops and side walk cafes and end up with a memorable seafood dinner on the wharf. Of course we love Hobart's slogan "The way life should be"...and actually the city does remind us a bit of Portland, Maine.



I think we really only "touched" Tasmania but what a lovely touch it was.

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Photos

Folk art Tasmanian style
Best mailboxes ever

Crater Lake, Cradle Mountain National Park
Gorgeous lake about half way up the trail

Marion's Outlook...where we didn't go
Take a good look at the peak in the middle and you'll see little tiny figures up there...but definitely not me.

Oatlands
Restored windmill

Oatlands
Town of gorgeous Georgian convict built buildings

Hobart
Getting ready for the Wooden Boat Festival with magnificent hand built boats - we just couldn't figure out how to get one to Maine.

So who had the slogan first?
Maine or Hobart????