All over, and thanks for coming.

Today we closed the loop. Five weeks north, south, east and west, many points in between and high and low. We’ve had hot and cold, wet and dry, populated and isolated. We’ve shopped in supermarkets, farmer’s markets and at farm gates. We’ve eaten things we’ve never eaten before. We’ve drunk things we’ve never drunk before. We’ve done things we have always wanted to. We’ve visited friends in cities and stayed in isolated places. Above all else we’ve had a good time.

Unlike 10 weeks in Western Australia, where you just get a taste of all of the things you haven’t seen, five weeks in Tasmania gives a much greater feeling of having seen it. Now, clearly we haven’t seen it all, but you get the feeling that perhaps we have seen a representative of most of the stuff on easy offer. The other sense of finality comes from the fact that we started as we have finished, in Devonport. Sort of a lap, and sort of not, but here we are, finished up.

A light sprinkle overnight kept things damp in Leven Canyon, but not enough to make things difficult. Such a great shelter and fireplace was too tempting though, so we couldn’t leave without trying duck-egg toad-in-the-hole. From there it was back to the coast for a relaxed day crossing off the last few items.

An unexpected bonus was markets in Ulverstone. Smaller, but much the same as Burnie, with the addition of a bluegrass guitarist. Time to top up on the berries, have one last pulled pork taco, and an olive ciabatta. One new option was the buffalo butcher, with the sausages sitting in the fridge awaiting our appraisal.

Across the bridge was what looked like a traditional rocket ship playground. I had hopes, even with the slides removed, that my children might get to experience one of my childhood delights. Alas, no, locked off, no doubt for some injury misdemeanour. We had to settle with swings and a slide down the hill, while musing over just why kids have no core strength any more.

Picking berries at Turner’s Beach was on the list. It took a little finding, and they too complained a little about the delayed season. However, with strawberries, tayberries, raspberries and blackberries we found enough to top up our blue berries and cherries in the fridge.

The last port of call was the House of Anvers chocolates. Having missed it on the first day, it makes you wonder a little why we worried about the rest of the holiday.  Apparently, that’s all they ever wanted to do. Perhaps an important lesson learned was Elliot understanding that chocolate poisoning at the hands of the free tastings is in fact possible. Nothing a dose of real dinner didn’t fix.

Being so close, we ducked up to Hawley Beach, for the photo opportunity if little else. The weather wasn’t exactly inviting for anything else.

So back to find a caravan park just down the road from the boat terminal. A message on the phone reminded me that check-in starts at 6am, which is early in daylight savings time. Only a few hours left now.

Burnie

The surprise packet town of the trip. Last time I was here, the Reflex paper factory dominated both the vista and the character of the town. Today, Burnie clearly has civic pride and is attempting to reinvent its image as a multi-faceted modern city, retaining heavy industry, but cultivating its more human side. In a fine summer day, all would seem to be well with this plan.

It really is only a short drive from Wynyard across to Burnie. A quick packup and a short walk along the beach had us across the short coastal  road and to the farmers markets by 9am. Accompanied by a quite extensive antiques and collectables auction, the farmer’s markets covered fruit, vegetables, jams, preserves, bread, meat, wines, peanut butter, cakes, baking, honey and probably a few more things I have forgotten about. The best tomatoes I’ve seen this side of Queensland and lots of stonefruit easily fulfilled the main mission of the day. However, the extensive range of other options had us raiding the kids funds to maintain liquidity for a second offensive.

Burnie has an extensive visitor centre combined with a “Makers Workshop”, a rotating exhibition and display of live craftwork and gallery. Today’s makers were glass beads and paper, and there were displays of musical instruments, woodwork, intarsia and many other things.

From there it was a short walk along the waterfront into town where the kids braved the waters of Bass Strait on a fine and sunny day for a swim while I found some Wifi to upload blogs. The front has been developed in a very attractive fashion, although parking meters on a Saturday were a bit of a bore.

Guide Falls was chosen as the nearby option for a late lunch. While quite pretty in its own right, the locals today were using it as a swimming option at the base of the falls. We also chose it as a moment to plan our last couple of days on the island.

Leven Canyon was chosen for tonight. The camping information was a little ambiguous but the place itself was given rave reviews by several people we had met on the road, so we made the journey inland. What a surprise! About an hour round trip walk takes you to a high lookout showing several bends and the steep sides of the Leven River far below. It is then 600 steps down, but that only gets you half way down to what they call the edge lookout. Totally unexpected and a bit of a well-kept secret, even though the reserve itself is about 90 years old.

The campsite is also well setup. Flushing toilets, a shelter shed with wood BBQ and timber provided. Gave us an opportunity to eat some of our market booty and give us a good shake at garlic poisoning. Yum!

 

The Van Diemen’s Land Company

The settlement of the NW corner of Tasmania was due in large measure to the creation of the Van Diemen’s Land Company Limited in the 1820s. It’s task was to select land in Tasmania to supply the textile factories of England. The authority to do this came by royal charter. The colonial government insisted on the selection being made in as-yet unexplored territory.

The company setup base near what was to become Stanley and selected various parcels of land across the north west. The vast majority of the selection was made inland on high country but unfortunately it was too cold and over winter thousands of prime merino would perish. The venture never really recovered from such a financial loss and although the entity would continue down the years, it would gradually be broken up, sold on and change focus, but the grand vision that was the company has few recognisable remains today.

However, the frontier had been broached. While perhaps unsuited to sheep, cropping, beef, timber and mining  would become later success stories which would lead to the development across the top end. Stanley, as the original home of VDL Co Ltd continues on. Smithton is now the centre of agriculture and Burnie has a more industrial focus.

The wind did continue through the night, and before 5am I was awoken by flashes followed somewhat later by low rumbles. Packing up in the wind was always going to be a challenge, but adding a storm into the mix was not worth contemplating. However, the radar indicated the storms were well offshore and didn’t seem to be coming in, so I maintained a watching brief. Once the sun was up though, it seemed prudent to get straight on our way.

We knew it wasn’t possible to get to the top corner, but I thought we’d head up for a look anyway. The historic VDL co remains still occupies this corner, although tassie Hydro now owns it to operate wind farms in the area. Indeed, about 4km from the end you are turned back. You would get a view of the windfarms there, but for us the weather was down low so there wasn’t much to see. An information board is setup at the collection point for the tours, but waiting guests told us it was $80 a head and they suggested they had been waiting beyond the designated time, so we didn’t hang around.

Stanley is still much the same as I remember it. Neat and proud, nestled underneath the Nut, or Circular Head as it is officially known. However, as for last time, there is little open, although evidence of occupation isn’t far away. The fish shop had almost no stock. The bakery was empty of goods, but attended. The timber workshop was closed. All of the accommodation houses showed vacancies, but no signs of occupation. If we could have found something interesting to do for the afternoon we may have gone to the ranger talk and seen some muttonbirds tonight, but with the weather alternately cloudy of hazy, even a chairlift to the top of the Nut was uninviting. After taking in the birthplace of Jo Lyons, Tassie’s first Australian Prime Minister, there was little else to do.

Further along the coast are a series of beaches, bays and headlands each either picturesque or famous in their own ways. Rocky Cape has shacks and a lighthouse. Boat Harbour Beach is the local surf spot, although too cold for us to be interested. Table Cape has an historic lighthouse but is famous mostly these days for its tulip farm.  Alas, for us, tulip flowing is over. From there it was a short drop down into Wynyard, where we have a comfortable, if somewhat expensive caravan park on the beach.

Fruit has been so hard to come by the kids are even asking for it, so tomorrow, we have found out that Burnie has a farmer’s market, so off to there in the morning. Fortunately with 44 in Melbourne, and 37 in Hobart, for some reason it only cracked 22 here today, which was good, except that a surf might have been nice if it was warmer. Perhaps we will continue to be lucky tomorrow.

To the edge of the world

Today was always going to be a driving day, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised we covered nearly 350km. You’ll be pleased we made it to the Edge of the World, but we are on our way back, so it is all good.

Normal people would drive to the north coast, turn left and follow the highway, but that would be somewhat too boring for us. We chose instead to follow a selection of minor roads, forestry roads and just plain uncharted roads to go cross country and in to Arthur River, a town apparently so lacking in tourist attractions that they market themselves as having the Edge of the World viewing platform. Personally I think they undersell themselves and their river, but then perhaps we aren’t here in typical weather. Today has varied, unpredictably, between 20 and 30. I heard Hobart was 37, but that could be tomorrow. Uniformly fine and windy though. I still don’t understand the weather here.

In a day of driving through mostly forestry and dairy country, I guess there is not a great deal new to report. Hellyer Gorge was on our list of places to go to. After our range of spectacular rivers, it was notable mostly for the morning tea, but it was pleasant enough.

I think I have made reference before to Tassie’s list of its biggest butts. The list unfortunately doesn’t include locations, so I have no idea if this one is on it, but at 16m around the base, it must be up there. I imagine in the days of felling by axe and pulling out without machinery it was just too hard.

Just down the road was the Dip River Falls. Not spectacular in terms of the water, but the rocks are that groovy columnar-jointed basalt that looks as if it could not possibly be natural, but it is. It was also the site of a steam-driven mill for the blackwood extraction, so perhaps the big stringybark was of little interest to them just a km or so up the forest.

Being a little underwhelmed by the campsites available at the edge of the world and Arthur River, we took advantage of the almost endless daylight and headed north to Marrawah. Another of these towns attempting to attract tourists by providing a free campsite with basic facilities. While it is in a nice spot on a north-facing bay on the west coast, it is still camping on a beach and wind is always an issue. Adding weight to the folly of our decision is that this is in windfarm hotspot territory. We are well tied down on the only remaining flat bit of ground, unfortunately the top of a small hill. My theory that it would calm down after sunset isn’t looking great at the moment.

 

One Man’s Vision

That we are here at all is primarily the result of the vision, dedication and hard work of one man, Gustav Weindorfer. An immigrant from Austria, he came to Australia from his alpine homeland and settled initially in Victoria. There he met the woman who was to become his wife briefly. A native Tasmanian, they returned home to the Sheffield area but fell in love with the high country to the south-west. Cradle Valley was to become their home.

In a life all too compressed, within a few years they had explored the area, climbed the mountains and settled on a location above Ronny’s Creek. There they built a chalet and started the process of advocacy to have the area preserved for the people for all time. Conservation was not a given and there had been pastoral, logging and mining interest in the area prior. Gustav’s theory was that build a chalet and people will come, then the government would have to build a road.

Kate, Gustav’s wife, was 11 years his senior. She was no shrinking violet. An accomplished naturalist and geologist in her own right, she wrote and presented on the natural history of the area as part of their promotion. She became the first European woman to climb Cradle Mountain, in a long skirt no less! However, within a few years of their marriage she was dead. And in a long series of unrelated incidents, so too were all of Gustav’s relatives. From being a summer pursuit, Gustav moved into his chalet, Waldheim, full time. A world war and his Austrian Heritage found him unjustly feared as a recluse, but over time the chalet business would grow.

The battle was worth it. By 1922, after about 10 years, the National Park was declared. The road was completed as a depression-era work scheme. By 1932, Gustav himself was also dead, aged in his 50s. The chalet fell into disrepair, and so began a struggle to have the site preserved. Eventually. the remains were demolished and a replica built on the same site, to the same plans and photos, and with the same locally sourced materials as used originally. No longer accommodating tourists, it is now setup as a museum for the history of the park.

Today was to be low key, and it was. Then followed a visit to the national park centre and a stroll through a couple of local short walks, lunch then a swim in Pencil Pine Falls. The locals wrote us off as Queenslanders having no chance of immersion, but a majority of us managed it. It may have been 32 today, but nobody told the water that. Still, a swim in Tasmania was on the must-do list.

So too was Tasmanian Devils. Critically endangered by a poorly understood contagious cancer, infected populations are almost always eliminated, and often at an age prior to weaning babies, so the dieout rate is terrifying. However, a few captive breeding programs and isolated populations are being created and maintained so there is at least an insurance policy should they die out in the wild before a cure is found. The display also featured quolls, which are threatened by habitat destruction, but are locally ok. However, a breakout of cats or foxes could eliminate them too.

So that brought us to the end of the Cradle Mountain experience. Dinner tonight was a lamb roast to exploit the ovens in the camp kitchen. That was made a little more awkward by the 5:15 tassie devil show. However, the cooking in two parts separated by 3 hours in the car in a wrapped camp oven didn’t seem to do any harm.

Tomorrow we retrace our steps somewhat, Cradle Mountain being at the end of the road. Time to explore the wilds of the North West.