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Published: June 28th 2009
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“One’s destination is never a place,but a new way of seeing things”.Henry Miller.After the splendor of the rugged west,what was in store as we drifted down towards the coastal plains in the north?We had a destination in mind but of far greater importance was what we were likely to see in getting there.The first observation of gently rolling hills and bright green paddocks confirmed that the north is the primary farming region of Tasmania.There is a distinct neatness to the white fenced fields,the plump and recently shorn sheep and beef herds in very good condition.Small rivers and creeks meander lazily through much of this area which,again,has an English countryside feel to it.One of the little villages one passes through is Sheffield…a typical farming town but one that has an array of murals on the towns walls as a reminder to explorers on the road not to pass it by.Ecotourism is certainly “reinventing” little towns in terminal decline all over the planet,but those who came up with the idea of painted murals deserve high praise for creativity.The northern coastal region of the island fronts onto the Bass Strait and with wonderful images accumulated throughout the day firmly embedded in our minds,we arrived
at our destination,the small port of Devonport.The best way to see any town or city,for that matter,is on foot and the park we checked into for the night was located just off the beach with a view of the harbour entrance.A walking/cycling path along the Mersey River(a flourish of the English naming wand here!)led to the harbor area where Devonport’s iconic symbol stood proud…”The Spirit of Tasmania”,a very impressive cruise ship which has regular sailings to Australia’s east coast cities.The light house at the harbour entrance provided an ideal viewing platform for the coast to the east and west which is mostly rocky beaches and headlands with some cliff formations out west.It still hadn’t rained since arrival in Tasmania but the weather forecasts were becoming increasingly ominous.What has been surprising is how cold the coastal areas visited have been.Overnight in Devonport the temperature dropped to about 3 deg C.An early start the next morning,cold and raw with grey clouds mustering in the east suggested that the weather gods had something in mind.We picked up the North East Trail and once again we were traversing splendid farming countryside which looked distinctly wet from overnight rain which soon began to fall and
thus “blemish” the Australian trip to date in the sense that this was the first rain seen in the almost eight weeks since arrival in Perth on 1st May.In explorer mode we visited the Ashburton cheese farm which had an array of different cheeses and would have had a cheese aficionado in ecstacy.Then followed a fascinating visit to 41 deg South Salmon,an aquaculture farm producing Atlantic salmon which,unlike their Pacific cousins in the Northern Hemisphere which expire after spawning,keep returning to do their stuff.This venture is also growing ginseng,a very interesting tuber which takes 9-11 years before being suitable for harvesting.An interesting talk by one of the young guys there on it’s health properties almost had us filling a basket.Launceston is the largest city in the north and is situated on the Tamar River.As is the case with many of Tasmania’s towns it’s early history was also founded on tin mining but today it serves more as a support town for the agricultural regions surrounding it.Our love affair with smaller towns held sway and after a relatively quick scan of the city through misty rain and fog,we were back onto the North East Trail.Farm land gave way to some magnificent
forests on sloping mountains dotted occasionally with bright green paddocks where tree clearing had taken place.On the subject of trees,there are the wide spread and regal eucalypts along with myrtle and other local species all standing side by side.The tree that now became more noticeable was the wattle,indigenous to Australia,but a real invader in SA where I suspect the battle has been lost to stem it’s destructive growth along riverine valleys and streams across large areas of the country.Observation also confirmed that road kill is taking it’s toll on many of the marsupial species found in Tasmania.These are the little guys who stick their heads out, mostly at night,to look for tucker and in the process run the risk of being wiped out on the roads.All along the route the sight of crows would indicate the carrion clean up squad at work.A number of small towns are dotted along the route including Lilydale and Scotsdale.There is a fairly stereotypical blueprint to each in the sense that there is a community center,footie field,store,library,an old church and an information center all located in the main street.Each town proudly announces it’s “pay off line” on the board as one enters the town and
they really are charming and in some instances,spellbinding as was the case in Derby.(population 170).Also founded on tin mining in the mid 1800’s,Derby looks to be struggling just a bit.Numerous private houses were up for sale but one suspects trouble is at hand with “For Sale” signs adorning the church and historic Bank of Tasmania building.Creativity of the human spirit is still evident as Derby annually hosts a river derby day which attracts many people to the town.Sadly,one cannot take in everything to be discovered on any journey,but a word about a superb source of information for any intrepid traveler…..do not cast away the bowlines and sail away without a copy of “The Lonely Planet Guide”.A great source of information and guide to all sorts of hideaways which you would simply not know about and therefore see from many of the roads traveled.With rain pelting down,yet another winding mountain pass was negotiated and then we arrived in St Helens which was the kick off point for the journey down the highly rated east coast.
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Kirsty scotney
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Haunted
That church is haunted! i know ive seen the ghost,and the people with me did too!