Round The World and other travels
A frequent flyer's collection of trip diaries
This is: Tasmanian Devils (2010)
Onwards to Hobart
| It had been a decidedly chilly late-Autumn night, so when my alarm went off I quickly switched the gas fire on and jumped back into bed until the main room heated up a bit! Just over an hour later, a second farm-fresh breakfast had been appreciatively devoured and it was time to pack our things into the car. As we did so, the sun started to break through the early morning mist in a way that was breathtakingly beautiful, and somehow all seemed right with the world. |
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Such positive feelings of well-being overpowered any slight hint of sadness at taking our leave of the idyllic setting. Besides, it is in the very nature of trips such as these that there is a constant feeling of moving on. We were soon on the road again for what would be one of the longest drives of the trip, this time turning right onto the A3 (also known as the Tasman Highway) and heading eastwards. As the pleasant sunny conditions continued, it was a joy to drive the near-empty road, although signs regularly warned drivers to be alert for the huge, double-trailer logging trucks that could easily result in a frightening encounter for the unwary. After the previous day's seemingly endless cascade of British- and European-sounding towns, it was also somehow reassuring to be passing signs bearing such authentically Australian and musically appealing names as Ringarooma River.
Barely half an hour after setting out, we had reached our first objective of the day: the Pyengana cheese factory, requiring just the briefest detour off the main road. It was another green and pastoral setting to match the one we had left behind earlier. We enjoyed a short cheese-tasting session along with some other visitors and, based on what our taste buds were telling us, made some informed purchases to enjoy over the coming days.
Once back on the main road, it didn't take long to hit the east coast at St Helens and from there, it was a case of hugging the shore as far as Bicheno, where the road veered inland, away from the isolated Freycinet peninsula. As previously agreed, we branched off onto the C302 and drove it as far as Coles Bay and the entrance to the Freycinet National Park. While the original hope had been to spend some time in the National Park, a reassessment of where we had reached and how the time was passing led to a decision to have a quick look around Coles Bay itself and then quickly retrace our route back to the main road.
Once established back on the
A3, we had a quick and light lunch at the first opportunity,
in the incongruous sounding little town of Swansea. Once
back on the highway, it was reassuring to find that, before
too much longer, we were crossing the bridges spanning
Barilla Bay, passing the airport and arriving in the
island's capital. It proved remarkably easy to find our next
accommodation - I guess I must have had a good navigator!
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As I floored the accelerator to power the car up an improbably steep, San Francisco-style side street, we were both delighted by the quiet, hilltop location and stylish neighbourhood - and all so close to the city centre. The delight continued when co-owner Wilmar gave us a warm welcome to Corinda's Cottages and in particular to the beautifully restored and tastefully decorated Coach House. Although it had been a long day on the road, it was necessary to make one last, brief foray in order to find a supermarket and stock up on provisions. That essential task accomplished, I could at last allow myself to unwind in front of the log fire, listening to the restored vintage radio while Bruce got to work on his latest creation of pork and mushroom ragout with buttered noodles. It was a perfect way to end a long and tiring day, made even better by having some of those newly-acquired Pyengana cheeses to nibble on as well.