Outside Adelaide.....

Hahndorf

I took the local bus to visit the German town of Hahndorf just a short ride outside Adelaide. These settlers came voluntarily for religious freedom, not because they were convicts. It is the oldest German settlement in Australia, now it seems to exist just for tourists; German restaurants, bars with German beers, shops selling German wursts and other ethnic food, and reproduction German souvenirs made in China.  There is a bit of history on display. After WWI they tried to eliminate all the German town names and Hahndorf was renamed Ambleside, but returned to its’ original name in 1935. Maybe they should have waited a few more years for WWII.

Heysen Studio

About a 25 minute walk from Hahndorf is the home and studio of Hans Heysen; a renowned Australian landscape painter.   I had seen several of his works in the museums I previously visited. The studio was cool, unfortunately they don’t let you take pictures inside. It’s a tall brick, barn-like structure, with a 20-25 foot high ceiling, fireplace, and huge frosted windows on the south wall. The glass had to be imported from Italy as they didn’t make it in Australia. It was a classic artist studio and you could see how valuable the light would be coming through the windows before the advent of electricity. With the windows closed the light filters through the frosted glass so subtly; you could see how it would be perfect for an artist. The house was cool too and you could see how it expanded from a one story cottage to accommodate their growing family of eight children. One other nice thing about the property is that they have information signs in spots where Hans may have painted some of his pictures along with a copy of the painting, so you can see his interpretation and the actual site.  One of his favorite spots was the “Shady Pool”. I found a sunny spot by the “Shady Pool” to sit and have lunch; alone amongst the gum trees, with the warm sun shining down, it was sweet.

McLaren Vale Valley

Tanya-Katie-Chook-Vintner Vince-Andrew-John-Norb
at Danshi Winery

The area around Adelaide is a big wine growing region. Like California, there are several valleys in the region with the Barossa valley the most well known and popular. A bloke on the train to Adelaide said the Barossa was nice, but felt that McLaren Vale was better, and on a suggestion by the hotel, I chose to go there with “Chook’s  Little Winery Tours”. Chook owns the company, lives in McLaren Vale and is neighbor to some of the vintners. There are over 60 small, boutiques wineries in this valley and we visited four, plus one brewery. His tours are small which is nice. It was just me and two other couples; Andrew and Katie, John and Tanya. They had planned this weekend for a long time and were staying on-site at one of the wineries. In the beginning I felt like was intruding on their intimate get together, but by the end of the tour we were sitting around drinking wine and talking like old friends. If I had been staying in the area they would have even invited me to the lamb dinner John was cooking that evening.  We tasted a lot of good wines, and some not so good. I am not a connoisseur,  and they were all taking aroma, mouth feel, texture, fruits, oaks, and for me it was just that tastes good, that doesn’t; although one wine smelled like ether and there was one exceptionally good wine that I swear had a hint of persimmon. 

'67 Camero - '57 Chevy

All the winery owners have a love and a passion for their work, but none more so than the owner of Rocky Ridge Vineyard. He only makes a Shiraz…..well he does make a white, but that is only to appease the people who don’t drink red wine. His wine was by far the best wine we tasted. In talking with him you could tell he is devoted to making the best wine he can, and he seems to translate that same passion into everything he does. Not only does he have an enthusiasm for wine, but he also restores old cars. He had pictures of the vehicles he has restored over the years in his pristine garage. Also in his garage were a 1967 Camero and a 1957 Chevy made in Australia (the steering wheel is on the right side).  The cars were mint and quite an unexpected surprise. Overall the wine tour was fully sick (the best). I’m learning to speak Australian!

I will be taking a little side trip into the Red Center and will be out of touch for at least 3 days. Next post from Alice Springs Sat or Sun.

G’donya !

norb

Adelaide and another brithday missed.....................

Too slow crossing the road

My Hotel - No doorknobs,13 foot high ceilings, halls like a maze.
Reminded me of "The Devil in the WHite City"

A four hour bus ride, overnight ferry and nine hour train ride brought me from Hobart Tasmania to Adelaide South Australia. Sure I could have flown it in a couple hours, but where’s the odyssey in doing that? Adelaide is a small city, laid out in a sensible grid pattern like Chicago, surrounded by a ring of parkland. It has the feel of an older city, one that time has passed by;a little slower, a little more laid back. If Sydney is an iPad then Adelaide is an Apple II. A couple of unusual things I learned from talking with a bus driver: Adelaide has a one way express way; in the morning it goes in one direction in the evening it reverses. Not just some lanes like in Chicago, but the entire expressway. So if you need to go north when it’s going south you’re out of luck. It did not make sense to him. Another thing is the Obahn bus. In the city it works like a normal bus, but then there is a section of its’ route where it drives itself, before becoming a regular bus again at the end.  I did not take a ride on the bus but apparently for part of the route the bus rides between two low concrete walls and there are little wheels coming out from the side of the bus which hold it in place. I saw the side wheels on the bus as it was driving around town.

Unlike the rest of Australia, the state of South Australia (SA) was founded by freemen, not convicts and with pride they make a point of letting you know; however, I find the convict past much more interesting. I did a walking tour of the Adelaide gaol. Adelaide originally didn’t even build a gaol thinking they wouldn’t need one since they were settled not by convicts but by freemen. They changed their minds rather quickly and amazingly the gaol was used up to 1988. Part of the gaols security system was loose bricks stacked in a honey comb pattern on top of the walls. If someone tried to climb over the wall, the bricks would fall making noise, thus alerting the guards. The art gallery of SA is a compact building with a nice selection of colonial art and Australian artists. In the entry to the gallery are 3 of 5 panels from Napier Waller’s “The pastoral pursuits of Australia”. The artist lost his right arm in WWI and relearned to paint with his left hand, and is considered Australia’s finest mural painter.  The Australian museum, what I would call their natural history museum, has a superb collection of artifacts from the south pacific islands surrounding Australia, especially Papua, New Guinea. My timing was bad for this one; the children are off from school and the museum was filled with kids and their parents.

Kangaroo Island (KI) is the third largest island of Australia, with Tasmania being the largest. I did a one day tour of KI from Adelaide which I would not recommend. It takes some time to get to the island by bus/ferry from Adelaide and the island is larger than expected; a day trip is just too short to enjoy all the island has to offer.  KI has 4000 people, 40,000 cows, and 400,000 sheep; indigenous animals; kangaroos, wallabies, echidna, and others; and the Ligurian bee, imported from Italy many years ago, which makes a fine tasting honey. You have to smile when you hear laughing Kookaburas; their laugh is funny and contagious. Our first stop on the island was seal beach. Sea lions come ashore on this beach year round and you can walk down to the beach with a guide and get close, but not as close as I thought we would. Since it was winter there weren’t many sea lions on the beach and almost all were sleeping. If you come during mating season there will be upwards of two animals, with the big bulls vying for the females. That would be the best time to visit. We drove through Flinders Chase National Park; miles of natural vegetation, mostly eucalyptus; to get to the aptly named “Remarkable Rocks”. This is a giant upthrust of granite situated right on the shore; that has been eroded over eons by wind and waves into stunning art-like rock formations. The granite is slick like that on Mt. Amos, and can get very slippery when wet; also the winds can be quite strong. Signs posted everywhere about the dangers, still 6 people died falling off the rocks. Tasmania has me spoiled, there were about 25 tourists at the site and I found that to be too many…… wait until I get to China!

Our penultimate stop was at “Admirals Arch”. Once again wind and waves have done their duty carving a huge, jagged, arch along the craggy shoreline. Stalactites hang from the roof and Australian fur seals bask on the rocks below. The one thing photos don’t capture is the smell. The seals are pretty stinky. Even with the brisk ocean breeze you can smell them long before you see them. The arch is impressive. Our final stop before the two hour bus ride to catch the ferry was at the animal park to see some kangaroos and koalas. This was as quick as a pit stop at Indy, there’s some roo’s …..quick take a picture; there’s a koala or two ……quick take a picture …….back on the bus. It’s not the tour company, they are trying to show you as much as they can in the allotted time; it’s my own fault for not scheduling more of it on the island. It was dark as we headed back. It is Australian law that you have to wear your seatbelt on the bus and in this case it was a necessity.

Kangaroo Island, as its’ name implies, has kangaroos on it, lots of them; and kangaroos are very active at night. There are no lights on the road and the roo’s come darting out from the bush like deer do at home. (This is why I would never drive on the island with my sister-in-law J) The bus driver is prepared for them, but still twice on the way back we almost hit some crossing the road; it has happened before, it will happen again.

And I missed another birthday.This time it is my wife Jo; today is her birthday. She is the absolute best. Without her support I would not be writing this message from Australia. I love you dear.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

A sip from the Wineglass...............

We spent the night in Launceston, the second largest city in Tasmania, at the backpackers hostel. It was the first time we had seen a traffic light since leaving Hobart 3 days ago. Welcome back to "civilization". Tina and I opted to do the morning hike to the gorge since it would be the only serious walking we would do that day. The others chose to stay in to get their beauty sleep and meet us at the suspension bridge over the gorge about 90 minutes later. This suspension bridge was built around the turn of the century and could hold more than 2 people, although it did bounce as you walked on it. It was pretty amazing, within 20 minutes we were out of the city and walking the path along a beautiful, narrow, rock-faced gorge. I would have never guessed this rugged of an area was so nearby. Despite the rains in the west, the river was low; I would have liked to have had more water rushing through the gorge, but not as much as happened in 1929 when so much water came down the gorge it reached as high as the bottom of the bridge. I'm not sure exactly how high the bridge is, but it has to be at least 30-40 feet. That must have been an awesome, terrifying sight.

The rest of the group arrived and off we went to Legerwood to view the WWI memorial carvings. After WWI, as was the fashion, the people of Legerwood planted trees in memory of the men and boys, the soldiers, who gave their lives in service to their country in the war to end all wars (if only it was). Legerwood is not a big town, maybe 200 currently, but even back then it would have only been slightly larger; a town the size where everyone pretty much knew everyone else, so when someone died in the war the whole town knew it and grieved as one. The trees grew large over the years and became too dangerous according to the town council, so the decision was made to cut them down. A piner from the local sawmill thought there was something wrong, something disrespectful, about removing memorial trees. Since the trees were going to come down, he offered to “carve” with a chainsaw the remaining “stumps” into various images in order to continue honoring those who had fallen far from home. His proposal was accepted and resulted in the memorial carvings of Legerwood; a modest tribute to those who gave the ultimate sacrifice.

We stopped to taste some local hand-made cheddar cheese. You could really taste the difference aging has on the cheese. The cheese was good, but their ice cream was better. I can never pass on the opportunity to taste ice cream, so I tried the wattle seed. It was scrumptious. Can any ice cream taste bad? ........Yes it can, but not this time.

After lunch we headed for our last stop of the day (except for the penguins) at the Bay of Fires (BoF). Now because of the magnificent scenery we had seen over the last few days, and the incorrect story I heard that the BoF is so named because of the red lichen that colors the rock, I was expecting fiery reds, scarlets, crimsons .....something like a scene from Dante’s Inferno. Alas, it was not to be. There were some rusty colored rocks and the BoF was named by the French explorers who saw a multitude of aboriginal campfires burning on the shore when they sailed into the bay. Don’t get me wrong it is a beautiful coastline, but I prefer the rugged vistas of the interior to those of the Eastern seaboard. However, what is cool about the Bay of Fires is that it is 35 kilometers long, has the longest stretch of uninterrupted beach in Tasmania, and the only access roads are at the two ends. So if you want to see the middle, you have to walk to get there; and I’m pretty sure you would have the beach all to yourself. Unfortunately we did not have enough time for that hike.

Our home for the night was in Bicheno, a small coastal fishing town. After dropping off our stuff we headed out to see the penguins. Just after sunset a group of little penguins (they used to be called fairy penguins) who nest in the area will come home from their day at sea. You can almost set your watch by them. It was a short walk down to the rocks on the shore where we sat to wait. Andrew said they would come out of the water, walk on the path in front of us and then head into the surrounding scrub where they nest. Since they would be scared away by bright lights or our towering bodies, we had to sit in the dark and cover our torches (flashlights) with red cellophane; and definitely no flash photography. So unfortunately I have no photos. We sat there in the darkness looking into the night sky and listening to the sound of the “blowhole” (more on that later) roaring behind us. The sky was full of stars and you could easily locate the “Southern Cross”; a group of stars in the southern hemisphere equivalent to our “Big Dipper”. Sure enough, about 20 minutes after sitting down we heard some splashing and penguin noises. Then out of the darkness to our left a group of about 6 little penguins, maybe ten inches tall, waddled past directly in front of us, no more than three feet away. There was a place in the path where it was like a small step and one penguin had some trouble getting over it. It was pretty cute and funny watching him trying to hop up onto the rock. You had to laugh. In a few moments they disappeared into the darkness and we were done for the day.

This was our last day and we awoke early to catch the sunrise from the Bicheno lookout high above “the Gultch”, a sliver of water sheltered by a small rocky island just off shore. The colors as the sun was coming up were fabulous; reds, oranges purples. The sky was on fire (this is how BoF should look). There was a bank of clouds on the horizon so we did not get a chance to see the sun slowly rise until it became a fully round golden orb, but it was still worth getting up early. On top of the hill is the “whalers tree”. In the old days when Bicheno was a whaling port, a young lad would sit up in the tree to look for whales. When one was spotted he would hang a flag on the appropriate branch pointing in the direction of the whale like a primitive GPS. The boat captains would see the flags and head in that direction to slaughter the defenseless blobs of blubber. 

Since we had a little time before leaving, Tina, Claudia and I went to see the blowhole. The blow hole is a narrowing crevasse between the rocks where waves come and then because of the increased pressure water shoots high into the air. The previous night while we were waiting for the penguins, the waves were strong and the blowhole was spouting like Menthos placed in a Coke bottle, this morning not so much. We watched it blow for a while and I kept getting nearer for a closer look at the mechanic. Tina warned me not to get too close or I would get wet. Not a minute later I’m standing in front of it saying aloud “Wow this wave is going to be a good one” (which it was), knowing that I was going to get soaked, but mesmerized and unable to move. It was like watching in slow motion as the wave came through the crack and erupted like “old Faithful” sending water a dozen feet high. I had just enough time to turn and take a step, so only half of me was drenched. We all had a good laugh.

The rocky trail

No one wanted to go to the animal park so we headed directly to Wineglass Bay further down the eastern shore. Wineglass Bay Beach (WBB) perennially makes the list of one of the top ten beaches in the world. Like many of the beaches in Tasmania you can’t just drive up to them. If you want to get to WBB it’s a, 75 min walk up and over the mountain down to the beach. Of course it‘s a 75 minute walk back up over the mountain and this may contribute to its ranking. I have no idea what the actual beach is like because we never got there. Why you may ask would you go to one, if not the number one, top ten beaches in the world and not actually visit the beach, because the view of the beach from atop Mt. Amos (454 meters) is absolutely spectacular; plus it is the dead of winter and the water is still too cold to swim; and our time was limited so we had to make a choice. We could take the 2.5 hour hike to the beach, do the 2.5 hour climb, or do neither and hang out at another nearby beach with no hiking just an easy stroll. I knew Tina was in for the climb because we had

agreed on it the night before; Claudia was on the fence but decided to join us and did not regret her decision; Doris and her family opted for option three. Andrew wanted to join us, but he had smashed two fingers hooking up a trailer on the last tour and had them bandaged; on this climb you needed your hands as well as your feet. In the past I’ve said “climbed” a mountain, but that usually means just hiking up the mountain; this one was different. Andrew told us we would need our hands as well as our feet, and the sign at the park posted warnings that the climb is difficult, should only be undertaking by the fittest, and that it could be dangerous...... so of course we had to go. Tina does a lot of hiking with her father in the hills and mountains of Germany, so she led our way up and down the mountain. The trail started

out like any other; a fairly easy, well marked path where you walked upright on two legs. That soon gave way to clambering around boulders, grabbing onto rocks to pull your self up, and scrambling on all fours over huge slabs of slick, weather smooth, granite poised at precarious angles just to make it more interesting. All the time you had to be looking for markers (little white painted triangles or small pieces of ribbon tied to the brush) every 20-30 meters to guide the way. Sometimes what looked like the correct or easiest path was not the right way to go. They weren’t always easy to spot, especially coming down. Thankfully it was dry. When wet the rock gets very slippery and if it were raining even a little we wouldn’t have attempted the climb. There was moisture in some spots and on the descent I took a wrong step, fell in the brush, and scratched my arm; it looked a lot worse because the blood. As we climbed higher the view got and we stopped for many pictures along the way. One nice thing about the climb is that

 

we couldn’t see WBB because it was still on the other side of the mountain. The only way to see it was to reach the top, so we climbed on. Even when we reached the top we still couldn’t immediately see the beach because mountaintop was so wide. We made our way to the other side and BAM! there it was Wineglass Bay Beach; a perfect, symmetrical, crescent shaped beach of ashen sand, turquoise water, small white tipped waves rolling in through a narrow inlet, under a clear, cloudless blue sky, illuminated by the blazing yellow sun; another picture post card moment. If that wasn’t enough, as your eye follows the far end of the beach around the inlet, the coastline continues with rocky cliffs that trail around the end of the peninsula. We stayed on the mountain at least 20 minutes drinking in the beauty of Wineglass Bay, savoring the view, taking numerous photos, and enjoying some chocolate and cookies we had carried with us to the top. From our vantage point we could see that there were only four hardy folks who made the climb to the beach and as was no surprise we were the only ones at the top of Mt. Amos. Unfortunately we had to go back down. I found that a little more difficult because the signs were harder to locate and when descending if you fall forward you go rolling down the mountain.

Wineglass Bay Beach

 

About half way down we did meet three fellow adventurers making their way up; a Tassie and two tourists. You could tell the Tassie, he was the one wearing shorts. In the end, we all said we would do the climb again before going to the beach. When I come back J I would like to hike to the beach and continue on to climb Mt. Freycinet on the other side for a mirror image view of the beach. This time I only took a sip from the Wineglass and a taste was not enough.

The final stop on our whirlwind Lap of Tassie was the small historic town of Ross. When the highway was built it bypassed the village of Ross thus preserving many of its’ colonial buildings and the 3^rd oldest convict built bridge in Van Diemens land, as Tasmania was once known. The intersection of the two main streets in Ross is known as the “4 corners of Ross”. You could go through an entire sequence of life in one day by making the rounds at this single intersection. You start off at the first corner where you have a few drinks at the Town Hall – “Recreation”; move across the street to the

Ross Bakery

 hotel where you might meet a fine lady of the evening – “Temptation”; after a night of carousing you wind up in the gaol on the next corner – “Damnation”; awakening in the morning, feeling bad for what you’ve done, you make your way to the final corner, the Church – “Salvation”,  Ross has one other significant building, if you’re familiar with the Japanese animae “Kiki’s Delivery Service”, the Ross Bakery. The story is about a witch who makes deliveries on her broom and apparently Kiki lives on the second floor above the Ross Bakery.

That concluded our official tour and we said our goodbyes, but the night had one more episode in store. Harry Potter had just come out that week but according to Tina would not be out in Germany for 3 months, so Tina, Doris and I went to see the movie. German, Chinese, American .............all watching a British film.......... in Tasmania. What a small wonderful world we live in.

Make friends wherever you roam!

norb

Mountains, murals, bees, fish and a tailless dog named George…………

Cradle Mountain from afar

Day one was good, day two was great; the sites of each day seemed to be better than the previous one and I didn’t know how Andrew was going to top the first two days of the tour but he found a way with Cradle Mountain. (Okay Andrew, I still think Montezuma Falls barely edges out Cradle Mountain only because of the anticipation of getting to the falls but looking at the photos, Cradle Mountain wins hands down.)

Cradle Mountain

As you gather by now our day started with a trip to Cradle Mountain. The weather was perfect; sunshine; a clear blue, cloudless sky; crisp, cold, fresh air; no wind, and a fair amount of snow that had fallen a few days previous. We drove up to the mountain along winding roads and because of the cold the road was spotted with black ice. I was glad Andrew was doing the driving. You could see Cradle Mountain long before we arrived at the entrance to the park. We stopped along the road at a lookout to get a few shots of the snow covered mountain.  Andrew said he usually doesn’t stop at that location because in the morning the mountain is shrouded with mist. This should have been a sign that it was going to be a great day to see the mountain. When we got to the park, the road in to Dove Lake, which lies in front of the base of the mountain, was closed to any vehicle without 4-wheel drive. It was closed not due to snow, but the ice on the road. Our van didn’t have 4WD so we had to take the park shuttle bus. The road in s narrow, so narrow that the busses can’t pass each other in most areas, so they carry radios to let each other know where they are on the road; then one bus will pull over into a siding to let the other pass. Unfortunately the cars on the road don’t carry radios and that can get a little tricky, especially on the icy roads. Another hint that this day was going to special was the fact that some of the park rangers, who work there every day and see the mountain all the time, were on the bus with their cameras going out to view and take pictures. We stepped from the bus and started to walk down the path to the lake, only the path was covered with ice and it was more sliding and hoping not to fall than walking. Once leaving the bus we could already see the gorgeous snow covered Cradle Mountain. Andrew said that was the most snow he has seen. When we reached the shore the view was spectacular, breathtaking, incredible, magnificent, picture postcard perfect. The lake was still, like a mirror, with everything around it reflected perfectly on its’ surface; and other than the park rangers, we were the only ones there.  Have a look at the photos and I think you’ll agree it is awesomely beautiful, but being there was a hundred times better.

Pademelon

We had two options: climb up to a lookout for a different view or walk around the lake. Both typically take about 90 minutes, but the climb involves actually climbing using some chains that have been installed to assist climbers. Normally that is what we would have done, but because of the icy conditions, this route was considered too dangerous so we opted for the walk around the lake. It was just Tina, Claudia, Andrew and me; the Zhangs’ opted not to go and would hang out until we got back. Andrew, who had been wearing shorts our whole trip, continued with his fashion choice, although he did add a hat and gloves. It was cold, there was snow and ice, I’ve got on pants and my rain pants on over them, and he’s wearing shorts. They do grow them tough in Tassie. As we started our walk around the lake we did run into a crowd, TWO people were returning from the nearby lookout. The path around the lake was snow-packed and in places very icy. The park has installed boardwalks in several places around the lake and those tended to be the worst spots. At times we were just sliding down the steps of the boardwalk trying not to kill ourselves. The trip around the lake took us 2.5 hours but it was a lot of fun and well worth the effort. The varying views of the mountain and reflections on the lake were fantastic. We even saw a couple of pademelons (small wallabies) along the way. One was sunning himself trying to get warm and almost posing for pictures. Our last views were from the boat shed; look at the photo, what can I say.  By the time we arrived back at our starting point there was a crowd, and this time I’m not joking there really was a crowd. I’m so glad we arrived when we did. The only thing that could have made it better would be a rainbow, unfortunately I had seen the last of the rainbows in Tasmania…. and I haven’t seen one since :(

Cradle Mountain boat shed

Sheffield Mural Park

Sheffield Murals

We left Cradle Mountain behind and moved on to the town of Sheffiled, “The Town of Murals”. Each year around Easter the town holds a contest for murals. Artists submit their proposed mural, the town will choose nine and then fly the artist to Sheffiled. The artists have one week to paint their murals on large boards in the park. People then vote on the best mural and the winner gets to paint their mural on one of the towns walls or buildings; becoming part of their permanent collection. The town is covered in murals; upwards of 50.  Unfortunately we took so long walking around the lake, that our time in Sheffield was limited and I did not get a chance to see most the murals in town. There was an antique/curio/junk shop that caught my eye after reading the handwritten sign on the anesthetic machine they were selling. Once inside I was hooked. This is for my friends in Kalamazoo. I saw this “Kalamazoo” stand and asked the lady “What’s a Kalamazoo stand and what do you stand in it”. She said “I don’t know” so I said “Why do you call it a Kalamazoo stand”, She said “Because that’s the name printed on it”. So if anyone in Kalamazoo knows what this is for please let me know. Anyway, that got me started taking to the lady and her husband (?). He wrote the notes on many of the items in the store and was a pretty funny dude and reminded me of an old hippie. He wanted me to tell everyone that Tasmania is a miserable place, the weather is horrible, the people rude, the service is poor and no one should come here to visit. I do think he liked his laid back life and wasn’t totally on board with all the tourists. Everyone else I met wanted people to come visit.

Do it yourself anesthetic machine

Kalamazoo stand

Honey Farm in Chudleigh

We stopped at a local honey farm and tasted about 25 different flavors of honey; Leatherwood, Blue Gum, Stringy Bark, Chili, Cajun, Pepper and a bunch of others. Some were good, some not so much. I’m not a big fan of honey, but they did have home-made honey ice cream. Of course I had to try me some of that, so I had some honey Blue Gum ice cream. Blue Gum is a tree, not a flavor of bubble gum. It was delicious.

Our final stop was at a ginseng and salmon fish farm. Not a big company, but a micro operation, basically a local man and wife. They started with growing ginseng, but since it takes ten years before you can start to harvest they needed something else in the interim, so they started farming salmon. We were running behind schedule, and they closed at 5:00 (as did most places), so we really didn’t have time for more than a taste of their delicious smoked salmon. It was very good.  I would have liked to have spent some time talking to the owner about his operation, but we had to move on.

George

Oh, and the tailless dog……..that was their cute Australian Sheepdog “George”. The breed doesn’t have a tail.

And so ends my tale of day 3. I’ll wrap up day 4 and 5, the Eastern part of Tasmania, in my next post.

Aussie! Aussie! Aussie! Oi! Oi! Oi!

norb

Montezuma’s Revenge and a Big Happy Birthday!.................

Path to Montezuma Falls

Montezuma Falls

The second day of our Jump Tour started with a 90 minute walk through the rainforest to Montezuma Falls. Andrew warned us that the trek would be wet and muddy; it is after all a rainforest; and I might add cold. This is not a tropical, hot, humid rainforest; maybe in summer, but not on the day we visited, although the man-tree ferns look like tropical vegetation; bigger than a man, shorter than a tree. The rainforest, as you might expect, is wet ….. VERY WET. This particular rainforest receives over 3 meters of rain a year. That is a lot of rain. The path was wet the whole way, but there were times it turned into a small stream.  According to Andrew, some people will come to the rainforest and won’t bring any wet weather gear. You would think the name RAINforest would give you a clue. The path to Montezuma Falls is an old railroad bed. The tracks have been removed, but in places you can still see the sleepers (railroad ties) that supported the track, and  there are also a few old trestles along the way.  It was a narrow gauge railway used to haul out ore from the mines. Later the railroad was replaced by an overhead cable system, it looked like a ski lift with little buckets instead of seats.  Tin, lead, zinc and a few other minerals were mined in this area and you can see a deserted mine shaft about ¾ of the way to the falls.  The path is very level and an easy walk, if you can tolerate the water, yet despite this there was absolutely no one there but us. Even in the peak tourist season it is seldom visited. I don’t know if it’s the 3 hour round trip walk, the wet muddy trail, or that it is slightly off the beaten path that keeps people away, but if they knew what awaited at the end of the journey more would come.  The group was moving a little slow, so I walked on alone. All I could see was a sea of green. All I could hear was wetness; the sound of running water from the river below, the rivulets crossing the path, small waterfalls erupting from the rocks, droplets dripping from the leaves,  and the occasional call of some bird in the trees.  There are a few informational signs along the trail providing some history or identifying flora. My anticipation grew as I neared the falls. I didn’t know what to expect because you couldn’t see anything through the vegetation.  Shortly I came upon a suspension bridge. You could hear the falls, not a huge thunderous roar, but you still couldn’t really see the falls. I walked out onto the bridge; a skinny, one lane, swaying, bouncing bridge. The sign said maximum capacity 2; the steel cables looked like they could support more, but who wants to challenge.  As I made my way towards the middle of the bridge I turned to my left and there it was, Montezuma Falls.  A beautiful, narrow ribbon of a fall, 120 meters tall; emerging  just below the rim of the mountain top, cascading down the first tier, turning slightly right, and falling through a few more tiers to the rocks at the base. Little rivulets ran over the green, moss covered rocks. The sun which had just cleared the mountain top behind me shone brightly on the upper third of the falls. Standing alone, looking at the falls in the still crisp air of the forest, I tried to imagine what the men who came to build the railroad thought on first seeing the falls. Was it as impressive to them, these men who hacked their way, probably for days, through the forest to arrive at the same location I arrived at in 90 minutes. Did they think “Oh crap, now we have to deal with this waterfall” or were they too struck as I was by its picturesque beauty. It looked like an idealized waterfall from a British landscape painting. Moving from the bridge to the viewing platform at the waterfall’s base gave me a closer look. Even being close to the falls there was little spray. I just sat and admired the beauty of my surroundings. A minute or two later the rest of the group arrived breaking my reverie. While Russell Falls were beautiful, Montezuma Falls had its’ revenge and upped the panoramic ante.

Old Sleepers

Upper falls

Lower Falls

Suspension Bridge

We stopped to have lunch at Strahan, a small, sleepy seaport on the west coast. As it is winter, most of the shops were closed. There is an operational sawmill in town and the town is also the terminus for the scenic steam locomotive from Queenstown.  Forestry is big (it was bigger) in the area and the sawmill in Strahan is the only one that still works with Huon pine. Huon pine is a protected species and trees can no longer be cut down, but piners (lumberjacks who cut pine) still find logs sunken in the river from lumber operations before the turn of the century, when the river was once the highway used to float logs cut in the surrounding mountains down to the sawmills. Even though they've been underwater for decades, the wood is still usable. Huon pine was a good wood to use in ship building; strong, and with a high oil content making it virtually waterproof. I saw some furniture made of Huon pine at Port Arthur and in the museums. It has a brilliant natural golden color. The shop at the sawmill has beautiful, very expensive, bowls, tables, other objects  and pieces of art made from the wood. You can even buy the pine shavings; the smell is great and it supposedly deters moths and other critters. As we were leaving we saw a rainbow….again. This one was so awesome we stopped the van to get a photo.  A boat was crossing the bay coming into port and the rainbow was shining directly on it. It seemed to follow the boat across the lake. The colors were bright and vivid and it wasn’t even raining. Just lucky I guess.

We finished our day at Henty Dunes. These are large sand dunes, 30-40 meters high, extending 15-18 kilometers along the shoreline, and the birthplace of the “Jump Tours” name. They reminded me of the Indiana dunes or Sleeping Bear dunes of Michigan. The dry sand was quite a contrast from the rainforest we left only minutes away. The dunes are constantly changing and moving as wind, waves and vegetation mold the landscape. However there is one dune, the “Jump” dune which seems to retain its basic characteristics over time. The dune is about 15-20 feet high and has a wide flat top and somewhat vertical drop off or cliff, instead of looking like a bell shaped curve.  “Jump Tours” took its’ because the owner went there one day with some mates and they decided to jump off the dunes. He thought jump tours sounded like a good name and the rest as they say is history. It was never said but jumping off a 20 foot high sand dune sounds like something where alcohol was involved. It has become a tradition of the tours ever since. Basically you run across the top of the dune, throw your feet in the air, and leap out over the edge, coming to a gentle landing in the soft sand below. It really isn’t dangerous and after the initial trepidation of the first jump becomes quite fun, except when you have to clean the sand out of your pants, hair and every crack, crevice and orifice of your body. Sand gets everywhere, but it is worth it; a good shower back at the lodge and your ready for the next days’ adventures. And yes there was a rainbow.

Now let me tell you about day 3……………..

***********************************************************************************

When you travel, whether for work or because you’re on an around the world odyssey, you tend to miss things; your family, your friends, your Sunday workout, holidays, anniversaries and birthdays. I’d like to think that an around the world odyssey is a better reason than work to miss these events, but it doesn’t matter why you’re gone the result is the same; you’re not there to share the joy of the occasion with someone you love. Today/tomorrow (it depends what side of the world you’re on) July 21 is my daughter Emelia’s birthday and I want to wish her a happy birthday. So this is for you:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMELIA!

p.s. Saw some koalas today, but didn’t hold them. They were too high up, sleeping in eucalyptus trees.

Put another shrimp on the Barbie.

norb