An Igorot Journey: Visiting Tasmania

Last Summer, I travelled to the south of the country for a bit of reprieve from the Queensland heat. Tasmania has cool temperate forests as well as habitats that are ideal for spotting some wildlife. I arrived in Hobart to a fine sunny summer day and promptly hopped in a rental. Then I commenced some driving-touring on the A5 towards the Central Highlands. The rough route for this vagabonding itinerant included sight-seeing through Bridgewater, Bothwell, the Steppes, Great Lake, Central Plateau, then on the Highlands Lake Road to Devonport. The afternoon weather of course had other ideas. Dark clouds cast great long shadows all along the inland northerly route from Hobart to Devonport. Even the best sceneries and landscapes in the gloom are not ideal for sight-seeing, photography, or lazy touring. In an otherwise uneventful inland drive, I noted some mountains to the west through Golden Valley.

After short stops in Deloraine and then Sheffield, I continued driving and taking in the million places I'm seeing for the first time in the great southern lands of Tasmania. I was so busy take take taking in, that I gave the camera no chance to take photos. "Don't shoot and drive" is my bumper sticker. There's a thousand places to stop in the Great Lake district, but I wanted to get away from the gloom and thus kept driving from the highlands through to the northern coast. And out of a hundred I chose stay overnight in Devonport, Tasmania’s third-largest city.

The next morning promised some brighter weather. The skies started to clear as I prepared to leave Devonport. And right in time the sun looked to break out from behind the clouds. Nothing gladdens a traveller's mood like a fine day, so I cheered the sun on as it fought through the clouds.

‘That’s the spirit!’ I yelled as I turned to the sea for a photo (see end of blog below).

The battle raged on for a while but the sun emerged in all its morning glory as the clouds retreated.

Devonport is the first port of call for travellers arriving on the ferry from the mainland. I did not come here to see a boat, but Devonport is the northern gateway to the hinterland of Tasmania where I ventured into its north-west. It was the middle of summer with its fickle weather, and the clouds had called for reinforcements and beat back the sun. The day remained overcast with rain threatening. Driving through the Kentish region, I spied this mist-covered mountain. The mountain was also clothed in cloud and jacketed in fog.

Mount Roland (what a cracker of a name!) is like many a-high mountain back in the Cordillera and enticed this intrepid traveller. It played the peak and seek game well. Back in my hiking days I have summited a couple of hills, and given a chance, I’m not averse to climbing a mountain. The veil of clouds blanketing the range lifted for a bit and gave me a peek at the summit, and on the spur of the moment I sought to bag this peak – Mt Roland kunam man.

Mt Roland Reserve covers an area of 7461 hectares and the tracks leading to the summit are quite steep and challenging. It takes at least three hours to the summit and on this occasion, I was unfit and utterly unprepared to go hiking let alone climbing a 1234m high peak. I strolled along for an hour to a spot just below the saddle then turned back.

Defeated I retreated like so many mountaineering attempts before. With my pride tamed and tail tucked lame between my legs, I plodded down the trail of broken balls. I had to give it to the mountain- but I think I’ll stick to the beaches for a while. I did see some birds on the trails of Mt Roland.

Tasmanian Scrubwren, Mt Roland. Native bird #1.

On the way to the southern beaches, I drove inland east past Sheffield to the Central Highlands and meandered down the Meander Valley to the tiny town of Railton. For such a small town, Railton has the widest streets in Tasmania.

This almost six-lane width street was designed to allow bullock teams (two to four pairs of bullocks) to turn around.

With its natural attractions, Central plateau in the central highlands is a popular tourist destination. The plateau is adjacent to the great lake. I could have stayed for weeks but some summer rains fell and the days turned gloomy. I resolved to visit maybe next Winter when some snowfall brightens the day.

Another of the native birds greeted me in Bothwell. Native bird #2. Green Rosella.

From Deloraine, I continued east to Launceston. Then headed south on the midland Highway to Hobart. I did not get a chance to explore the two biggest cities of Tasmania. I had to catch a ferry to the southern wilderness.

The Bruny Island ferry runs from Kettering, a coastal town about half-hour drive south of Hobart.

Bruny Island in the south is about 360sq km and features sweeping beaches and landscapes, rugged coastlines and ranges, unique flora and abundant birds and wildlife.

Native bird #3. Black-headed Honeyeater, Bruny Island.

Native bird #4.Yellow-throated Honeyeater, Bruny Island.

At this southern end of Tasmania, you can almost see Antarctica, 4425km away at 1045h. I got my timing right visiting Tasmania in the new year for these rewarding views.

The southern Tasmanian coastlines are not all sandy beaches. There are rocky treacherous cliff-edged shorelines as rugged as they come.

Native bird #5. Forty-spotted Pardalote, Bruny Island.

They also have mountains in Bruny Island.

A pair of Eastern Rosellas fly past Mount Mangana to Cloudy Bay.

A narrow, sandy isthmus known as the Neck, divides the island into north and south. The Neck is a crucial habitat for native wildlife like short-tailed shearwaters and little penguins. Many wildlife get run over during the night when returning or leaving their burrows.

Truganini Lookout offers incredible views of the surrounding coastlines and many bays including Adventure Bay.

Sunrise at The Neck.

Postal mailboxes on poles.

Come sundown, I looked to post my photos. But there was no post office and no phone signals. I had no data roaming, and really, I had no business roaming. I'll just post some photos below.

Sheep crossing near Liawenee.

I was driving straight through Central Highlands but in Liawenee, some sheep stopped me in my tracks. The sheep were in their thousands and and whilst waiting I killed the engine. The seconds quickly filled up the minutes, then I started counting sheep. As happens when counting sheep, I fell asleep for maybe two or four minutes.

I was dreaming of counting sheep when the farmer tapped on my window. ‘You may go now, thanks for stopping’, she said. I asked ‘how many are them sheep?’ She said ‘three thousand’. ‘Whoa!’ I said ‘that’s exactly my estimate’. Well, give or take one. I told her ‘I counted either two- or four-thousand’. So I was out by just one-

I stopped again at a lookout over the Great Lake.

At Hobart airport carpark, I was welcomed by a family of Tasmanian Nativehens. Native bird #6.

Tasmania's Great Eastern Drive. The Eastern Drive begins in Hobart and ventures north through spectacular national parks, and picturesque bays and surreal coastlines.

Maria Island side trip.

Just off the east coast of Tasmania is Maria Island, a wilderness haven with no cars and no shops.

I spent a day here bushwalking and taking in the scenery and rare wildlife.

Wombats.

Cape Barren Goose are plentiful in Maria Island.

On the east coast the boats are out and the sea is calm, but even on Maria Island, the high Fossil Cliffs offer no safe harbour. I explored the beaches and coastline boulders and dolerite columns, and yes the steep fossil cliffs. Then there’s the island's convict heritage buildings in Darlington. Eucalypts predominate around Australia, and it’s no different in Maria Island- here the blue gums are king.

After getting back from Maria Island to the mainland, in Triabunna in the Spring Bay area, I proceeded to Orford on the Prosser River.

At the navigable mouth of the Prosser River in Orford, the locals go boating, fishing and swimming- as you do.

From Orford it was back on the scenic coastal roads past Freycinet Peninsula and Glamorgan to Swansea and Great Oyster Bay.

All things come to an end, and I had to cut short my journey on the Great Eastern Drive in Bicheno. I was driving along when my phone rings. My favourite dictator, work calls and dictates that I report back ASAP. I pleaded for another year off- yeah right. I’m not sure if I should report about my travels in Tasmania.