After fleeing Melbourne during one of Oz’s biggest events of the year, I headed up to Ballarat, site of early gold mining in Australia. It was a pretty drive, and I enjoyed the museum, visited the historic Montrose Cottage and had a lovely chat with the docent, wandered through some of the mine shafts and, of course, panned for gold. I managed to get a few flakes that more than paid for my admission fees and a few lunches. Besides, it was fun, and I met a charming young women and her daughter who were enjoying the day in the dappled light.
Since Melbourne was still not going to be an option for several days, I opted to head down to Tassie (Tasmania). I headed west to Skipton, then south, so that I could retrace my route along the Great Ocean Road and Port Campbell National Park that had been dark the previous night when I drove through on my way to the state capitol. This part of the Great Ocean Road is stunning with Beacon Steps, Twelve Apostles, etc. It was quite a treat, and had I not been skunked in Melbourne, I would probably have missed it all. Another case where a negative turned into a real positive!
I took the overnight ferry to Tasmania, landing early morning in Devenport. I managed to find a local rental car company at a very reasonable price and headed south. My friends in the Adelaide Hills had told me there was quite a bit of traditional wooden boat building down in Hobart, so that was my ultimate destination, but on the ferry, I met an avid fly fisherman who, when he found out I was a photographer, told me about a lodge in London Lakes known for its excellent trout fishing. He knew the owners and thought they would be delighted to have their place photographed.
And so, I detoured to the lodge, and the owners introduced me to guides Laurie and Ken who showed me around the area. I marveled over the size of the huge brown trout, and enjoyed a delicious dinner of same, courtesy of the owners.
After a full couple of days of photography and fine dining, I continued, with stops along the way, to Kettering, a bit south of Hobart. There, I met some delightful fellow sailors, traded sea stories, admired a beautiful sailboat made from Celerytop, a very dense and strong pine long used in traditional boat building.
I had to find some Tasmanian Devils, so my next stop was a wildlife park where I first met a wombat who was quite dejected, because the object of his attentions had roughly rebuffed him. It was both funny and sad, as he sprightly — wombats are not what I would generally characterize as sprightly — headed to her den full of hope and anticipation. After she made very clear go-away noises, he hug his head low and moped his way back to his own burrow.
The manager of the park had been showing me around (there are certain perks to being a published photographer) then asked me if I would like to hold some baby Tassie Devils. Being an animal lover, this was irresistible. I expected one, possibly two, but I was given four, quite an armful. In fact, they were so intent on snuggling with me, that they were squirming too much for me to hold them safely for very long, so I gave two back to have my photo taken.
The manager also told me about Port Arthur and said it was a don’t miss. Port Arthur was the site of one of the early penal colonies in Australia. A chilling place that echoed the darkest periods in history, it is hard to imagine the treatment the prisoners received, and it was a place that didn’t seem right to photograph too much. I felt relieved when I left, but glad I had made the effort to go there, as it is so much a part of the early history of Australia. Even today, as I write this, I feel that same pit in my stomach I felt when I visited the site.
Rather than take the ferry back, I hopped a plane to Sydney to explore the east coast of Oz. It was fun walking around the city, having a pint in the historical area called The Rocks, meandering around the Opera House, taking in The Bounty replica, doing a harbor tour on a boat that took us out to the harbor entrance, admiring the Harbour Bridge, and at the invitation of some people I met, enjoying a ferry ride across the harbor to Manley to have dinner at one of the rowing clubs.
I visited ACT (Australian Capital — no, not a typo — Territory), drove up the windy road into Kosciusko National park in the Snowy Mountains, meandered along the coastal part of Princes Highway, and eventually headed inland up to New England. In my ignorance, I didn’t realize that Australia also has a New England, with old gold-mining country, historic houses, and lovely scenery. I even stopped in at a house that was built the same year as my old house in the early 1800s.
It was time to head back to the coast, and explore the easternmost point in Australia, Byron Bay, known for its fabulous surfing and Surf Club Carnival where brawny lifeguards compete in various contests, including rowing skiffs out through the thundering surf as though they were on a life-saving mission. Everyone was having a great time, and the beer flowed freely!
From there, I headed into Queensland through sugar cane country with a vague destination of the Great Barrier Reef. My route took me through cane fields, fishing villages, and eventually to the historic town of Rockhampton (Rocky). The Lonely Planet described a charming old hotel, and while it no longer took guests, it was reputed to be a great place for lunch and a view of the Snow Gums along the river. As I approached the hotel, I noticed three tables on the small porch, heard laughter inside, and entered the bar to order lunch. As I waited to be served, I couldn’t help but laugh at the joking and good cheer of a party of friends.
When I went back outside with my meal, the one empty table was at the other end of the porch, now inaccessible because of size of the party from inside. I asked if I could slip by and was asked to join them. And in less than ten minutes, I had an invitation to go sailing with the group on an old pearling lugger from Broome on the west coast. One of their party, whom I quickly identified to his surprise as a psychiatrist, was leaving, and the sister of the captain was looking forward to having another women on board…
To be continued in what will likely be the final installment next week! See a few portraits below from the trip.