Tag Archives: Scenery

Landscapes, Wildlife and a Feeding Frenzy at Cradle Mountain

Tuesday 10 September 2024 – When we looked out of the window this morning, it had clearly rained hard during the night, but it was difficult to tell if it was drizzling right now or whether the weather was just that air-borne moisture you get when you’re in a cloud. Anyway, it wasn’t bucketing down as we walked round the lodge’s lake to breakfast, and there was possibly even the hint of a lift in the weather.

On the basis of various weather forecasts, we decided that rather than wrap ourselves up in something warm and stay indoors, we should go for a walk. Not obviously, by any means, though.  Just down the road from our hotel is the Cradle Mountain Visitor Centre,

where we went to get our Parks Pass and also a ticket for the shuttle bus which would take us to one of the well-known walks in the area, a circuit round Dove Lake. The total cost was not small, but, as with the Russell Falls park, it was clear as we walked around that there was a lot of work involved in maintaining paths and other facilities, so it was money well spent.

The terrain we could see from the bus

underlined how wet the place was. Basically, we have been wet and cold since we left Hobart, and we asked the hotel receptionist if this was normal. She said, emphatically, that it was not; in the 12 seasons she’d worked in Cradle Mountain, this was the first time they’d had such consistent rain for such a long time – every day for two weeks.

The shuttle bus has a few stops en route to Dove Lake, the first of which was at the Ranger Station;

they were clearly expecting me and wanted to make sure that I stayed safe.

At Dove Lake, the prospects for spectacular scenery were a little less than uplifting

but since we’d made the effort (and paid the bus fare!) to get there and it was only drizzling, we grimly struck out on the 6km Dove Lake circuit. This is largely a well-maintained path

with steps to help with ascents and descents

and boardwalk to get you across the tricky bits. Every so often, the drizzle would stop for a few minutes, and one could begin to make out the reason that the area is called Cradle Mountain,

and the general scenery, whilst being exceedingly moist, was not unattractive.

As we worked our way along the path, the weather lifted a little more, the cradle became clearer to see,

and we could see that there was snow on the upper slopes of the mountains on the other side of the lake.

Every so often there was something to remark on, whether it be multiple Pandanus trees

or some extra highlights among the greens of the trees.

We reached the far end of the lake

and continued on the path, through an area called the “Ballroom Forest”.

It’s clearly a forest, and probably rainforest at that, but we couldn’t fathom the reason for its other name.

We noticed at this point that the top of the cradle was beginning to clear, and one could actually make out snow on the slopes.

The unrelenting treeness of the view gave way to rock at one point

though in the event it meant that one had to duck as one went past – there was a distinct lack of headroom.

We carried on, along paths that were easy to follow but more difficult to walk on – there were more uneven surfaces, and the unremitting rain of the previous days meant that there was, more often than not, a river running along the middle of the path, requiring fancy footwork for those, like me, who were not wearing boots and didn’t want wet feet.

The return half features quite a steep climb

at the top of which a pied currawong came to ask us why we were breathing so hard.

At about this time, the weather really did lift and we could see the cradle quite clearly as we looked back,

but the lump we’d just climbed over was getting in the way, and we wondered if we’d miss out on a clear view of the mountains before we finished the walk.  The clouds did swirl back in as we passed a boathouse

but eventually, our luck was in as we reached the point on the circuit where the Iconic Cradle Mountain Shot could be captured.

There are even instructions on a noticeboard as to how to post your attempt at the shot on social media. That’s how iconic the location is.

In the end, it was an enjoyable walk, as it ended with the sun almost shining, and there being no rain, so we were glad we had made the effort to get out. As we drove back to the hotel and I concentrated on avoiding the craters in the road, Jane suddenly yelled “wombat!”. At first, I thought this was a critique of my driving, but actually it was because there was, indeed, a wombat beside the road, so we screeched to a halt so we could take a closer look. This was my first-ever wombat,

much more interesting than the wallaby which was quietly lying a little further away wondering what all the fuss was about.

Not only did I see my first wombat in this area, but also my first-ever pademelon!

so we were very happy as we got back to the hotel.  We had a short rest before we had to go out again, on the day’s booked excursion to a place even closer than the Visitor Centre. As we drove there, we passed a couple of cars off to the side of the road, a sure sign that there was Something To See.  In this case, there were a couple more wombats, just grazing away beside the road. I got some video of one of them,

and we carried on to our activity, which was at a place called Devils@Cradle. I guess its name gives away what we’d find there:

Tasmanian Devils, an endangered species of marsupial found only on this island. We had booked to see them being fed, which happens late in the day, as they are basically crepuscular creatures, but we turned up early so that we could take a look around and see what other creatures were being looked after there.  These included Quolls, of two different sorts: Eastern Quoll

(also seen here in a dark morph)

and Spotted Tail Quoll.

These, like the Devils are (a) marsupials, (b) endangered and (c) nowhere near as cute as they look. All three creatures are ravenous meat eaters and not to be treated lightly; as far as they’re concerned, humans are just meat, and so trying to pet them is likely to end in tears, as in fingers being torn off hands. Each animal has hugely strong jaws – ounce for ounce stronger even than hyenas – and their jaws can gape extraordinarily wide, which helps them as they tear and rend. This one, though, was just yawning.

The Devils@Cradle centre, whilst undeniably a tourist attraction, is actually a serious scientific endeavour as part of conservation efforts concerning these creatures.  The Tasmanian Devils, particularly, are at risk, mainly because of human activity, killing them often out of fear (they can make a blood-curdling screeching sound if they’re in disagreement among themselves) or because they can be a threat to domestic animals. A result of this depleted population is a lack of genetic diversity, and a rather unpleasant – transmissible – cancer has struck a large majority of the Devil population. Devils@Cradle has a small but significantly cancer-free population of Tasmanian Devils to help preserve the species. Its decline is very unfortunate, because Devils have an important role to play in the environment; like hyenas, they can hunt but also clear up remnants of carcases left by other predators. Sadly, if these carcases are roadkill, the Devils themselves are threatened by traffic; in their eagerness to consume the carcase, they just pile in and will still be on the road as the next vehicle comes along…

The Quolls too are under threat from urban development and, particularly, from the feral cat population, so the establishment is also involved in maintaining a breeding population and managing reintroductions.

Devils@Cradle, though, has no government funding, so depends on visitors for its money. One of the attractions they offer is a chance to see the animals being fed. It’s a very well-organised and information-rich activity. In our case, our guide was Sarah,

seen here displaying the wallaby legs that she would be using to feed the Devils. She was very knowledgeable, engaging and informative about the creatures, the need for conservation and the work that the centre is doing.

If you are of a sensitive nature, I suggest you skip the rest of this post, as it features images of bits of animals being torn to shreds.

Still here?  OK, here are some still images of Devils being fed

(note the currawong, which is hanging around in case something is left over) and the quolls ditto.

Note that Sarah doesn’t just throw them the meat, because then they would just grab it and run for cover; to ensure they stay out for the punters, she attaches it to a hook so that the spectacle can be watched.

They may look cute, but, like the Bugblatter Beast of Traal, they’re very ravenous.

Here’s some video which might really put you off your dinner. You Have Been Warned.

It was a very interesting evening – informative and educational, albeit cold and wet as it rained towards the end of it, not that the animals cared.

So ended our day at Cradle Mountain. Tomorrow we head back east, for some R&R at Launceston in north central Tasmania. We have no formal activities booked but you can bet your sweet bippies that if it ain’t raining we’ll go for a walk. Obviously.

Wandering round Hobart

Saturday 7 September 2024 – With a day at leisure stretching before us, it was obvious that we would go for a walk and Jane had discovered a self-guided walking route for us to follow. Hobart is an interesting city to walk around, as it’s the second-oldest capital city in Australia after Sydney, having been founded as a British colony in 1804 and settled as a penal colony by hard-bitten British and Irish convicts. There’s quite a lot of Georgian architecture from this convict era, and it makes for a very attractive place to wander round.

We are staying at the Henry Jones Art Hotel, more of which in a separate post, but it stretches for quite a long way along Hobart’s waterfront.

Outside it by the water, there are various statues: the “walk to freedom” – remembering the female convicts (and their children) who settled here;

and various references to Australian Antarctic exploration, for which Hobart was a centre.

The chap on the right above is Belgian-born explorer Louis Bernacchi, the first Australian to winter in Antarctica, and who accompanied Scott as chief scientist on one of his expeditions.

As is often the case in waterside cities, the waterfront area is attractive

with a selection of unusual boats, the purpose of which is not necessarily obvious.

The other side of the waterfront area from our hotel was given over, it being a Saturday morning, to the Salamanca street market, which is A Thing.

It is vast

and diverse, with stalls offering fresh and prepared foods, clothes and accessories of all kinds as well as a startling range of niche products.

It is clearly very popular – it was very crowded indeed, and so we headed out past it towards  Battery Point, which is set on a hill above the city. Its name stems from the fact that the first Battery was built there as part of Hobart’s coastal defences, and well stocked with arms and ammunition which, in the end, were never used in anger, just mainly for ceremonial salutes.

To get there, we passed the old semaphore station

and entered the Battery Point area proper, where there are many  styles of colonial buildings, from cottages to grander houses.

One very attractive diversion took us to Arthur Circus, which has several old cottages, originally constructed for the garrison officers of the Battery, surrounding a small park area.

Walking on took us past many more really attractive older buildings, lovely spring blossom, and some great views over the city.

We stopped for coffee

at a place where they had fantastic cakes

(yes, we had some; yes I took photos; no, you won’t see them here) and at least one interesting item on the day’s menu.

Our path took us past St. George’s Church, a Greek revival church built in 1838 to serve the Battery Point residents (the classical tower was designed by English architect James Blackburn in 1847).

Steps took us back down to the Salamanca area, where we found more quirky statuary

It’s entitled “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”

some helpful people,

and, on the lawns outside Parliament House, a Masked Lapwing, a bird we had seen before,

and a Pied Currawong, one which was new to us.

The city has some attractive, imposing and, indeed, historic buildings, too.

The oldest continuously-licensed pub in Australia

City Hall

Post Office Building

The slightly odd bell tower of St. David’s Cathedral

We went into St. David’s Cathedral,

which is odd in that it has a gift shop beside the pews

and it has some lovely stained glass, both classic

and modern.

Opposite the cathedral is a statue of someone or other, but

Franklin, my dear, I don’t give a damn.

Actually I do, but couldn’t resist the joke.  It’s Sir John Franklin, an Arctic explorer and former Lieutenant-Governor of Van Diemen’s Land, the colonial name of the island of Tasmania used by the British during the convict era.

That was it for our walk around the city, and very pleasant it was, too.  We got back to our hotel in time for a tour of our unique hotel, which is what I shall write about next; I hope you join me to read about it.

Escape from Melbourne, and Day 1 on Tasmania

Friday 6 September 2024 – Our entry to Melbourne was not entirely straightforward. Neither was our exit, which laid bare the sheer opacity of the airline ticketing process. We had been booked on a Virgin Australia flight yesterday morning from Melbourne to Hobart, a relatively short flight of an hour and a quarter or so. When we came to check in online, we found we were not allowed to do so; seats had not been allocated, there were no free seats except extra cost options (extra legroom seats, basically), and when I tried to pay the extra, all my various credit or debit cards were declined on the incomprehensible basis that I was trying to pay in a currency different from that of the original booking. I think it was something to do with it having been a travel agent booking, a suspicion which was reinforced later.

Some moments after failing to check in online, we received an e-mail from VA apologising for changing our flights. Instead of a direct flight at 10.40am, we were now on a 3.30pm flight. Closer examination of the e-mail revealed that the flight was to Sydney, and would be followed by a 5.50pm flight from Sydney to Hobart. None of the options we could explore online revealed that there were any direct flights available from Melbourne to Hobart. So we checked in for our multi-stage flight thinking that VA must have cancelled the original one.

We took a small amount of comfort from the later departure time, were able to have a relaxed morning exiting our apartment, and got ourselves to the airport for about 2pm. At this point, Jane’s caution about the whole thing paid off, as she was concerned about whether our bags would be checked through all the way to Hobart. So we looked around for an operative to help us and, as luck would have it, he, Irwan, was brilliant. He took us to a manned bag drop and started chatting with the lady there; between them, they figured out that there was a 1720 direct flight from Melbourne to Hobart. Irwan then spent quite a lot of screen time basically, we think, getting around all the objections that the system was throwing up against us being allowed on this flight. Again, the fact that this was a travel agent booking was mentioned as a complication. To cut what is already a long story short, he managed to cudgel his computer into allocating us extra legroom seats on this direct flight for no extra charge, proving that he was a Good Man. We had some time to kill before our flight, but would still arrive earlier than VA’s rather eccentric re-routing.

My suspicion is that VA had overbooked all the Hobart flights that day which is why it was rerouting us via Sydney; and further that we were lucky to find in Irwan someone who could get round the technological barriers put in place to make our lives more miserable.

So, we had three hours to kill before our flight. This could mean only one thing.

As it happens, our departure was delayed a further 30 minutes by the late arrival of air crew, but we still got to Hobart

earlier than we would have done had we gone via Sydney.

Awaiting us to transfer us to our hotel was a young Taiwanese chap called Stephen who was very proactive in helping us with bags and so forth, and so we were soon enough at the frankly quite amazing Henry Jones Art Hotel on Hobart waterfront. Only once before had we walked into a hotel which made such a striking impression – the Singular Hotel in Patagonia. The Henry Jones has a unique vibe and quite a history to it and I shall write about it in more detail in due course. For now, suffice it to say that we have a very large and very comfortable room and the lady who runs the bar knows her cocktails.

All that was yesterday. Today, we were booked to go on an excursion to Bruny Island, a very oddly-shaped island south of Hobart.

(By the way, the empty bit shown on the left of the map really does look like that on Google. That’s because it seems to be empty – it’s the Southwest National Park and appears to be devoid of anything which looks like civilisation.)

Our tour was billed as offering “spectacular landscapes and tastings of gourmet local products”, so I thought we were in for a day of mainly majestic scenery. Since it was raining when we were picked up, I also hoped that we would simply be ferried about to gawp at (and, of course, photograph) the views without getting too soused. The day didn’t turn out like that, actually.

Our guide for the day was Alan

who was wrangling a coach and 24 guests. We had a drive to the ferry terminal,

where there was also a marina.

As we crossed the D’Entrecasteaux Channel and looked back, it was clear that the Tasmanian scenery was going to be quite different from almost any we’d so far encountered.

Having expected majestic landscapes on our arrival, I was a bit surprised that the first thing that Alan was talking about was a cheese stop. As we headed there, Alan gave us a few facts about Bruny Island, and it was clear that it was reasonably close in spirit to French Island, where we’d been just a couple of days before. Larger than French Island, its population is just 600. It’s not so off-grid – there’s electricity, for example, and a greater range of retail options than just the one general store – but it’s still mainly national park, state forest and some grazing areas, popular as a holiday location with some surfing beaches.

And so this was our first destination on the tour:

the Bruny Island Cheese Company. It is the first time in my life that I have had a tutored cheese tasting.

The tasting was led by Paola

who did a great job of explaining about the company, its products and its ethos, all of which are rather impressive. The cheese business has been going since 2003, after its founder, Nick Haddow, spent 10 years working with specialist cheese makers in many different countries around the world. The milk used is from their own farm, Glen Huon, which is actually on the mainland and which raises three rare breeds. Unusually, it allows the calves to stay with their mothers and drink their milk for several months, which lowers the stress levels for the cows, thus improving the quality of the milk yield. The focus on solely Tasmanian produce shapes the way they make their cheese and what ingredients are used in its production. We sampled four cheeses.

(Apologies for the photo of food, which is normally against my principles, but it is rather the story, here.)

You’ll notice a glass of beer in the photo. That’s there because in 2016 the company also started brewing its own beer, again using only Tasmanian-grown ingredients.

It was clear that there was a lot of passion, dedication and expertise at work. As a result, the cheeses are award-winning.

As we trooped back on to the bus and moved on, Alan mentioned the other tastings we would be doing during the tour – chocolate and honey. So it became clear that this was to be a major component of the day.

Our next stop, though, was a scenery stop, with a historical twist. From the map above, you can see that the two major lumps of the island are joined by a narrow stretch of land, which is about 70m wide at its narrowest. We could take the opportunity for a good view over it, provided we were prepared to walk up

some 240 steps. I did this, and the view was, indeed, worth the climb. You can clearly see The Neck, the strip of land that connects North and South Bruny.

The historical angle could be found at the top;

a monument to Truganini, a powerful aboriginal woman who fought for the rights of the indigenous people against the early colonists. She witnessed the murder of her mother by sailors and the kidnap of her sisters by sealers. She formed an association with a lay preacher, George Augustus Robinson, who hatched various plans to relocate those aboriginals who had not been killed of by colonists and their diseases, and enlisted Truganini’s help in executing those plans. The various plans and promises came to naught – it is a depressing story to read, and her treatment after her death reflects even more badly on the colonists. Her life has become representative of both the dispossession and destruction that was exacted upon Indigenous Australians and also their determination to survive the colonial genocidal policies that were enforced against them.

The area around the lookout is also home to Little Penguins and Mutton Birds (Shearwaters), and their burrows can be seen in places, and beside a lower boardwalk in the same location.

The bitumen of the road running along The Neck was changed from black to white

in order that the penguins could better be seen by motorists. We saw no penguins – it’s the wrong time of year for that here – but I did spot a blue wren.

We moved on past the pleasant scenery of the island’s settled areas,

and stopped for a short walk in the Mavista area, where there’s a walking track through rainforest.

It has a very prehistoric feel to it, due to the ferns and moss that dominate the environment.

Our next stop was to be lunch, in an area called Adventure Bay. En route, though, Alan spotted something quite unexpected – a white wallaby.

It was actually nearby another, conventionally grey, wallaby,

and the two of them seemed quite unconcerned by a coachload of people taking their photos; Alan said they actually relished the attention.

The lack of predators, the indulgence of the local people towards their cuteness, and the lack of colour prejudice amongst the animals themselves means that the white wallabies prosper on Bruny. (The jury seems to be out when it comes to deciding whether their colouring is leucistic or albino; whatever, it’s quite striking). It is also the name of a gin which is used as the basis for a local spritzer-type drink

which we drank to accompany our fish-and-chips lunch.

In the same area is the Bligh Museum of Pacific Exploration,

established in 1954 to display historic maps, paintings and other artifacts relating to the landings at Adventure Bay by various famous explorers, such as Tasman himself, James Cook and William Bligh. It’s quite small, but has masses of content

including the very tree stump to which Captain Cook moored his ship, the Resolution, in 1777.

The stump had been left in its original location, with a plaque attached describing its significance, until some utter wanker removed the plaque, leaving the V-shaped gash you can see. At that point, it was moved to the museum for its own protection.

Further up the road is Two Tree point (I’m still trying to work out a gag around one Two Tree, but have so far failed). This is thought to be where Cook’s artist painted a picture, of which a reproduction is on display.

This is my version of it.

You can see a beach there, but the recent violent weather which marooned us on Kangaroo Island and which has made south Australian lives a misery over the last week actually caused much of the sand to be washed away.

All those rocks used to be covered in sand.

Enough of this history; it was time for some more artisanal experience – the Bruny Island Chocolate Company. Actually, we didn’t get sucked into the vortex of possible chocolate purchases, but instead joined Alan and a group of others in exploring the neighbouring gardens of the chaps who have created and run the chocolate company. One of them got his love of chocolate from years of work as a chef; the other is a dentist, which seems rather a neat partnership for demand generation.

The gardens – normally private, but open for our group to visit – are rather lovely.

You’ll notice, in the final picture above, that the cock appears to have, well, a cock. It doesn’t; it’s actually its foot you can see (the one on the right, below).

There’s a lovely globe, made out of bits of scrap from the garage of one of their fathers

and various other nice exhibits.

After this, it was time for our final artisanal experience of the day – the Honey Pot.

The honey made here comes from bees which are moved around the island, following the nectar flows so that they can create their honeys from a variety of flowers. One can taste them, so when a coachload of people turns up, there’s a bit of a feeding frenzy.

We were given some honey ice cream and a taster pot of our choice to take away with us.

That was it for the tour – we headed back to the ferry

and thence to our hotel, after a day which was very enjoyable but nothing like what I had expected. We have no formal programme for tomorrow, bar a tour of the Henry Jones Hotel, but I expect that the obvious thing for us to do will be to go for a walk. Whatever happens, I’ll be sure to report about it here, so do please keep in touch to find out how the day unfolded.