Blue heaven and the flat that wasn't.

The return trip on the Spirit of Tasmania was just a teeny bit rockier than our first trip across Bass Strait (Kwell may have been consumed by the ladies of the party). Once off the Ferry, we made our way over to Williamstown to meet up with some friends for breakfast. Stu managed to confound us non-Melbournites by ordering a 'Blue Heaven' milkshake (the blue equivalent of lime apparently). He still looked in good health by the time we set off again, heading north along the Hume Highway.

We were about 20 minutes south of Albury when I thought I felt a very light fluttering of the tyres, so being the eternal optimist I anticipated a blow-out until we made it to the border town. There was a distinct juddering as we made our way through some of the streets of Albury, and managed to track down the sole Tyre shop still open. The good folks at Bob-Jane T-Mart couldn't see anything obviously wrong with the tyres, but dutifully took the car for a spin (with the kids and myself still in the car). Nothing. It turns out that the streets of Albury that I travelled down just happened to be of segmented concrete construction (entirely accounting for the juddering). Suffice to say, I can never return to Albury-Wodonga.

I recommend Bob Jane for all my non-existent tyre needs.

The car was filled with songs from Grouplove, Daft Punk and even the White Stripes "enthusiastically" accompanied by the Team Martin choir, before we finally made it to Gundagai. Sunlight quickly fading, we made a quick tour of the place, although missed out on witnessing the marvel that is ...a marble carving by a local guy...that you have to pay to see.

Statue of characters from a radio show.

Joshie was impressed with the facilities.

The older two Martin kiddies preferred the 'old school' slide.
I feel ancient now.

Busy Saturday night out in Gundagai.

What might have been - no marble masterpiece for us.

Tomorrow will see us make the final leg of our journey home, with the kids already offering up their favourite parts of the trip. Hamish loved the chairlift over Cataract Gorge at Launceston, while Lily loved the zip-line. Josh loved sleeping next to Hamish, while Jen couldn't go past Bruny Island. I didn't mind the morning at the Cascade Brewery followed by a wander around Hobart Botanical Gardens.

To me Tasmania struck me as a place of rolling green hills, home-grown produce, untouched wilderness, and tanin-stained mountain streams. The towns had a deep sense of history about them, and the people were genuinely friendly (although they would burn leaves/lawn clippings with seemingly gay abandon). A sense of calm seems to seep into your bones after a while (unless you had to make an evening run through the hair-pin turns to Orford).

Cradle Mountain at last.

We checked out of our little cottage this morning, leaving it somewhat cleaner than when we arrived. The drive to Sheffield was made all the more exciting thanks to the GPS lady's mountain road tendencies. Many hair-pin turns later, we stopped briefly at the 'town of murals' to fill up on petrol before setting off for Cradle Mountain.

The landscape starting taking on a definite alpine aspect, and we noted some dusting of snow on some of the more craggy peaks. We realised gloves and beanies were essential as soon as we got out of the car at the Visitors Centre - the Martin children finding the face-numbing temperatures hilarious.

'I can't feel my fingers - hilarious!'

We spotted an impressively long line of outdoorsy-types, which turned out to be the queue for the Shuttle Bus up to Dove Lake (and the start of the epic Overland Track). During the hour (!) wait, we spoke to an older couple who were lugging their accommodation and foodstuffs for the next couple of nights. Anticipating snow tomorrow, the gentleman wisely wore his shorts (but he did look dapper in his tweed cap). Upon our eventual arrival at Dove Lake, we noticed a number of spare parking spaces (something we'd been advised would not be available - hence our usage of the bus service). We signed the Register Book, stating that we anticipated returning that day, and we were off.

The path became more 'damp' than this further around the Lake.
We found ourselves essentially walking down a mountain stream.

Cradle Mountain - with actual blue sky.

Obligatory photo of the boat shed on Dove Lake.
I have no idea either.

The walk was over 5 kilometres long, and was wonderfully scenic. Despite the freezing conditions and fog, everyone we encountered marvelled at how nice a day it was (it had been snowing yesterday I guess).

We waited another 30 minutes or so for the Shuttle Bus to take us back to the Visitor Centre. While waiting, we overheard a few American girls discussing which walk they should undertake (keeping in mind it was now 2:30pm - the temperature falling again). They were toying with the Overland Track (they had no gear with them at all), and belatedly wondered where they'd stay once on top of the mountain. One reassured the rest that they heard that there was a shack up there somewhere. Scary.

Back in the car, GPS lady once again favoured us with a tortuous goat-track (complete with goat at one point) of a road all the way to Devonport. We made it through security at the Ferry Terminal, with the friendly customs guy 'warning' Hamish that he'd better behave or else (he also offered to take my couple of bottles of Boags off my hands - which I declined).

We've managed to secure cabins with windows (or portholes in non landlubber speak), allowing me to send off my final post from Tasmania before we get too far offshore.

Tomorrow will see us berth in Melbourne at an obscenely early time, before catching up with some friends. Later in the day - we will make our way along the track winding back along the road to Gundagai (Jen is threatening to sing this ditty to the kids on our way there - they now know fear).

Last day in Launceston

Josh was running fevers on and off overnight - so slept in the parental bed. I thoroughly enjoyed the 35 cm of the Queen-sized bed allotted me (in between being smacked in the face by very small out-flung hands). The predicted rain came, and went, long before morning even arrived - leaving a brisk but sunny day.

Our fashionably narrow but exceedingly long Launceston residence.

The kids were thrilled by the news we were heading to Kids Paradise, which consisted of an indoor play-centre, jumping castles as well as sweet, sweet coffee. I opted for the double-shot. Tears and tanties abounded (I'm fairly sure it comes with the demographic) but fortunately neither were carried out by the Martin children. We stayed so long, we ended up having lunch there, with the waitress spilling some chips over Lily - apologising profusely. I tried to make her feel better by saying, "At least it's not soup!" ... I guess you had to be there.

View of the Tamar from Kids Paradise

Taking advantage of the continuing sunshine, we took a stroll across Kings Bridge - spanning the South Esk River, before taking the north-side path along Cataract Gorge (the south-sided Zig-zag path is older, steeper and devoid of the majority of any safety features required of cliff-side pathways). Hamish managed to dance his way up the majority of the path (to the confusion of the local jogging contingent), while Josh discovered a cave / graffitied bunker.

Kings Bridge

North-sided path along the Gorge.

Jen pointing out some mountain goats
falling off the treacherous south-side path along the Gorge.

Cataract Gorge - looking towards town.

We've ironically begun to get familiar with the layout of the streets of Launceston - on the eve of our departure. It is actually but a third of the size of Newcastle, but presents very much as a city regardless.

Jen discovered a burger place called Burger got Soul, and we partook of their delicacies this evening. The burgers were amazing - Hamish had a 'Tassie tempter', while Jen and I had a 'Funk Soul Brother' apiece (all brimming with meaty goodness).

Tonight is our last night in Tasmania, and tomorrow sees us (finally) head over to Cradle Mountain for a meander around Dove Lake. All of our weather divination technologies are insisting on a sunny day. This leads me to suspect torrential rain, or perhaps snow.

Batman Bridge and decoy lighthouses.

While the various online weather sites conflicted entirely with one another in terms of Cradle Mountain's rain forecast - Joshie decided to trump the lot and develop a temperature. With over four hours of driving and around two hours of walking - Cradle Mountain will have to wait until Friday.

Our hastily reformulated plan now consisted of obtaining some medicine for Mr Joshie, followed by a more achievable drive up the Tamar Valley to Low Head. Upon receiving an age-appropriate dosage in the car, Josh immediately informed us he was feeling much better (the placebo effect is strong in this one). We made our way up the West Tamar Highway, diverting into Grindelwald - part residential estate, part resort, part faux Swiss village (and all kitsch), to pick up some morning tea.

Where are my clogs?

Almost as soon as we left the city limits of Launceston, we were driving through pasture lands, edged by native landscape. We passed a number of teeny towns, all affording pretty spectacular views of the mighty Tamar. We made our crossing via the Batman Bridge, and pulled off the road to feast on the not-at-all Swiss pastries from Grindelwald. The Batman Bridge is a cable-stayed design, meaning that the huge A-frame tower on the western side holds up pretty much all the weight of the bridge (science!). There was also an overly-curious Peahen that didn't flee from our enthusiastic children (or when we started the car for that matter).

We had to explain to Josh that Batman was out fighting crime -
the only reason he wouldn't be hanging out on his bridge.

Peahen never learned about personal space.

The East Tamar Highway continued to hug the river before entering the township of George Town. To get a better look at the place, we wound our way up Mt George to the lookout where we could see all the way to the mouth of the Tamar. On the way back down (in our car fortunately), we passed a middle-aged gent in short-shorts (and not much else) sweating and power-walking his way up the hill. Odd.

Low Head from the top of Mt George

Jen started getting excited as we neared the village of Low Head and spotted what we thought was the lighthouse. It was fairly nondescript, and frankly - underwhelming. Embarrassingly, it took a few moments to work out we weren't actually at Low Head by this point, and that it was just a small beacon tower to guide ships already in the Tamar.

Hamish asked for the opportunity to take a few shots, so we obliged him (it turns out that he takes far less 'selfies' than Lily does). 

Lighthouse - taken by Hamish

The photographer

Low Head Lighthouse

The onset of delirium

The return trip was fairly quick, and we wandered down the mall in Launceston itself. The people seemed friendly, including a fireman who waved at Joshie as we walked past the Station on the way to our car. Speaking of cars, the traffic appears devoid of the usual urgency you get in larger cities. Once back at our French Street residence, Jen decided to walk to the local grocery shop. She didn't reckon with the gradient of the nearby hills, and required a climbing harness for the final section.

The weather tomorrow is universally expected to be wet - all day. We are planning to surprise the kiddies with a trip to Kid's Paradise - three floors of play equipment and games of all sorts. I am hoping it comes with coffee and earplugs.

Museum, malt and macaques.

We were surprised (not really) that the Weather App's prediction of rain did not eventuate, but relished the chance of a bit of a sleep-in. Our destination for this morning was the Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery (QVMAG), the museum and art gallery being located on separate sites. In the afternoon - I'd booked in for a tour of the Boag's Brewery for purely educative purposes, whilst the rest of Team Martin were off to run about in City Park.

We were just paying for our parking when we saw a bus-load of Vacation Care kiddies come spilling out and head towards the entrance. Unlike the snooty TMAG, QVMAG was very kid-friendly - with tolerant staff and plenty of activities to keep the young people amused. Both Hamish and Lily were inexplicably obsessed with the rocks and crystals at the Gift Shop - but we managed to draw them away, and through the Perception Tunnel. This consisted of a platform running the length of a cylinder with rotating mural landscape. The effect was such that it felt like the platform was swaying precariously. A veteran of ludicrously high platforms and swinging bridges - I was able to stave off waves of nausea.

Although Jen wanted to complete the Museum in an entirely sequential pattern, Joshie noted dinosaurs in the next room which ended any semblance of order. There was an impressive array of dinosaur skeletons - from the chicken-sized to the Tyrannosaur variety.

Another interactive section awaited us outside, including 'whisper dishes' that had Joshie looking for Lily's disembodied voice coming from somewhere behind his left shoulder. We noticed a restored train carriage, and discovered that they served morning tea.

Cupcakes!
Chocolate-mint with Jelly-beans for Josh
and Peanut butter & jam for Jen

The kids managed to convince us to purchase some minerals (ie polished coloured rocks), and we then departed for the Gallery component of QVMAG. Again, the attendants were friendly, even suggesting an order of viewing the exhibits as a result of having kids with us. There was a section by local Year 12 students - with some rivalling the works we'd seen in MONA. Fortunately there was an area where the kids could practice their own drawing skills to hang up along-side others.

We called in to the Boag's Centre for Beer Lovers for some lunch. There was a quirky guy behind the bar, that not only made our coffee, but our toasted sandwiches too - and then threw on his Tour Guide jacket ready for the 3pm tour.

At this point, Jen and the kids left and drove over to City Park, where they saw the resident Japanese macaques (because that is what you have in a Tasmanian park) and enjoyed the train-themed playground. Some strange young woman in Alice in Wonderland gear was being photographed at numerous locations around the place - but did not appear to be connected to any specific event. Lily was besieged by a small girl called Holly, who was keen to make friends - much to Lily's strained tolerance.

Overly-ornate drinking fountain.

Back on the Boag's tour - I learned about the impacts of toasting your malted barley, as well as the fact that the frustratingly tasty Wizard Smith's Ale is not available outside Tassie. The guide also mentioned (off the record, so don't tell anyone) that if it has a Boag's label, it has been brewed in Tasmania - the same unable to be said for Cascade. 

The weather for Cradle Mountain is being frustratingly fickle - so we may end up there tomorrow morning, otherwise will scamper over there prior to driving onto the ferry on Friday.

Not coming soon to a store near you.

Honey, hugs and hypothermia.

It was another balmy 6 degree morning here in Launceston, perfect outdoor activity weather. We took the National Highway west to Deloraine, before setting our sights for the Mole Creek Caves. Before long, we reached the village of Chudleigh (for some reason we find the name cuter than a bugs ear), and called into The Honey Farm, which is essentially the only draw-card of the place. It was even colder in Chudleigh if that were possible, so we hurried inside - our collective breaths fogging up the place.

They have a huge variety of honey flavours to sample, as well as beeswax products and anything remotely marketable with a bee on it. While there, we witnessed two bus-loads of Japanese tourists come through (imagine an overwhelmingly polite whirlwind), with the entire Martin clan being hugged by one poor girl, claiming it was her mission to hug at least 18 people that day.

Note the Tasmanian Devil beanie.

We found the Blackbutt and Wildflower varieties of honey delicious, but I crossed a line in terms of dark honey when I sampled the Buckwheat. Possibly one of the foulest concoctions I have tasted, akin to licking the rear wheel of a coal truck.

All sugared up, we pushed on to the Marakoopa Cave (part of the Mole Creek Cave system). Jen picked up some tickets at the front office (about 150 metres out from the cave site), managing to lock out a grumpy older hiking lady, who was then mistaken for a man by the unfortunate Ranger behind the counter.

Marakoopa Cave

Largely unscathed, we waited for about half an hour in 6 degree temperatures - unsurprisingly we were the first to arrive (everyone else was likely still sitting in the relative warmth of their vehicles). Lily groaned and rolled her eyes as each additional participant turned up (clearly we were going to run out of cave space). Our guide was quirky and informative - detailing how stalactites initially form as straw-like structures, before thickening up. He described other formations such as shawls, teeth, pendulums and flow-stones. On the return trip, the lights were dimmed (ie complete darkness) to allow us to view quite a nice collection of glow worms.

Resurfacing, we noted that the temperature had not climbed, and it was now raining. Despite this, we thought it a brilliant plan to drive through some tortuously curving mountain roads to Sheffield (which is actually a very cute town) and on to Tasmazia. Can you see what they did there? A collection of mazes, in Tasmania. Genius. It was around 1:30pm by the time we arrived, so we picked up some lunch before heading in to the Great Maze (as much to avoid the inevitable drenching as much as to sample gargantuan pancakes). 

Despite the icy, miserably wet conditions - we actually had an okay time. The hedged mazes were fantastic, and the tiny township of Lower Crackpot was hilarious. Sheffield is known for its many murals, and it was obvious some skilled artists had a hand in decorating the teeny buildings.

We took the main road back to Launceston, thawing out along the way.

Tomorrow will likely see a continuation of the cold and wet conditions - so we will take a look at the Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery. I will (under much sufferance) take the tour of Boag's Brewery in the afternoon - possibly even sampling one or two varieties.