Monday 16 September 2024 – After our two engaging, informative and photogenic days with Bushie, it was time to leave Jetsonville yesterday and head towards our final destination on this unique island (apart from the departure lounge at Hobart airport, that is) – the Freycinet Peninsula, which dangles off the east coast of Tasmania and is a National Park. In theory, the drive should have taken us just over three hours, but we somehow or other spent nearly five hours covering the 220km. Rather than take the swiftest route, we elected to take the coast road, our old friend the A3 along which we’ve covered so many kilometres, as this took us past a couple of places which promised some photographic action. First, though, we passed the hop fields we saw yesterday, and Jane took a photo showing how much more extensive they are than was shown in my photo;

and we passed through Derby, and took a photo of what we think is the bit of scenery which collapsed when the dam broke and ended the town’s tin mining period.

As ever, the scenery on our drive was lovely, made more so by sunshine,

and we soon reached Pyengana, a village which is noted for its cheese production.  We could have stopped for a cheese tasting, but somehow the idea didn’t appeal; instead we took an 11km diversion to see a waterfall, the St. Columba Falls.  Jane wasn’t too sure that this would be a worthwhile detour, an impression which might possibly have been emphasised when we got there and took a look at the track leading to the falls.

Someone had clearly seen the netting across the entry to the track and thought “bugger it, let’s take a look anyway”. We decided that if that person was prepared to take that risk, then so would we, dammit. (Also, we talked to people coming the other way, who said it would be OK; we like to live dangerously, but only when it’s safe to do so). There was a problem on the path

but it was relatively easy to clamber over it and carry on, past some riparian scenes

and some pretty amazing tree ferns

through which we could just about catch sight of the falls

so it looked like it might be worth all that danger after all. The falls are really  quite impressive (yes, an Icelander would concede that they are actually waterfalls), but photographically really quite difficult to capture, partly because of the viewpoint offered and partly because of the position of the sun. The best I could do is via video.

After the falls, we stopped for a coffee at St. Helens, an attractive coastal town,

before moving on towards our next diversion.  En route, we passed a landscape that was difficult to decode.

We think that the foreground planting is grape vines, but can’t explain the background – dead trees among live shrubbery; very strange.

Our next diversion didn’t take us far off our chosen route. We reached Bicheno, another coastal town

and went to look at the beach. Or, rather, the rocks,

which look very fine with their covering of lichen.  Beyond them, you can see froth and foam, which gives a further clue to why we stopped here.

(So does the title of the video, I guess.)

After Bicheno, it was but a short drive to the Freixenet Freycinet peninsula,

National Park and Lodge, which is where we were due to spend a couple of nights.

Freycinet National Park occupies a large part of the peninsula, (named after French navigator Louis de Freycinet), and Schouten Island (which on the map looks like a drip falling off the witch’s nose that is the Freycinet peninsula). Founded in 1916, the park shares the distinction of being Tasmania’s oldest park with Mount Field National Park, which is in the Uncharted Quarter – the southwest of the island.

Freycinet Lodge is quite an impressive operation. By the reception are the bar and restaurant areas

and our cabin, or rather our “coastal pavilion”, which is some 300m away, nestled among the woods

is very swish

and has obviously had a very cool and with-it designer, which made the interior exceedingly chichi and almost totally unusable for practical purposes. I should have realised this when in order to get in to the place we had to open the door by pulling it.  Also, it’s great having nice low mood lighting throughout, but there are times when actually I would appreciate being able to light the place such that I can see what the fuck is going on; but it’s not an option – gloom is, apparently, trendy. The light switch system is so complex and mysterious that it needs the  instruction manual which you can eventually find on the in-room TV, and it’s got a great supply of all the things you need for a comfortable stay – fridge, kettle, that kind of thing – but all hidden behind panels that merge in seamlessly with the walls, so you have to go round experimentally tugging or pushing at bits of the wall to see if they move in some way to reveal what’s behind. Very, very chichi, but very, very frustrating in the dark after a couple of large gins. [ On the plus side, comfortable bed, good shower, and a bath outside on the deck for star-gazing – Ed ]

Generally, the environment around the lodge is very pleasant, again helped by the sunshine we’ve had of late. There are nice views available

but the Australian ravens

sound very derisive.

We had the day to ourselves today, with no formal programme, but a strong recommendation for a walk to a lookout point over Wineglass Bay. One can walk all the way from the lodge to the lookout point; on the other hand, one can drive 3km to the car park whence the actual walk starts. We’re on holiday travelling, so we took the lazier option, but I should make it clear that it’s not like we put in no effort at all.

We had sunshine, which was good, and slightly unexpected, but the wind was a cold one, which made Getting On With It a good idea. It’s a well-marked path

with some steeper bits

past some amazing boulders.

We did stop to take some pictures of the views on the way up. You can see the nearest town, Coles Bay, quite clearly.

The final push to the top is up some more steps,

around 326 of them, and at the top there’s a circuit of viewpoints to navigate,

with more impressive boulders on the hillside

and (of course) a great view of Wineglass Bay.

Had there not been a good view, I would have been a bit tetchy, and not without justification, I think. The way down is slightly different from the way up, if you follow the signposts (like almost everybody did),

and continues to give good boulder.

There’s one mysterious rock quite near the bottom;

we can’t fathom how those dimples came about. Reaching the car park, we passed a rather cute structure shaped like a whale,

which I assume is a bicycle rack.

The road from and back to the lodge passes Honeymoon Bay, so we thought we’d pop down for a quick look;

our visit was short and sweet, much, I suppose, like your average honeymoon (eh, Starmer?) and we were soon back at the lodge and taking it easy for the rest of the day.

Tomorrow, we have, with some regret, to depart these shores and return to the Australian mainland. We’ll therefore be heading north which means that it should at least be warmer. Whether it’s more interesting or not will be revealed in these pages in due course.