TOURING THE NORTH AND NORTHWEST

It’s an overcast and slightly rainy morning in Hobart, and I’m trying to sort out the welter and wonders of the past several days. Starting last Friday I was treated to a driving tour of the north and northwest areas of the state—courtesy of Clive and Roz Tilsley. Our drive began by heading to Launceston, via the east coast, not the standard route. The day was brilliantly warm and sunny, like everyone’s dream of summer. It’s hard for me to credit that it’s really November. Christmas flyers arrived in this morning’s paper … but I seem to be floating outside of time with nothing to indicate days of the week or what season it is.

That first day I glimpsed Maria Island, a lovely shape floating between blue sea and blue sky. It’s moving to see the whole shape of a piece of land, as if it can be grasped in its totality. We stopped frequently—at Mayfield Bay Conservation Area for a brief walk along a sandy beach where we saw a 3-arch bridge foundation dated 1854; at the Spiky Bridge, convict-built, from local stone if the surrounding terrain is any indication; alongside Great Oyster Bay overlooking a huge sweep of sea and mountains (Freycinet Peninsula and Park), and the Moulting Lagoon wetland; and at several beaches, any of which could feature in splendid tourism ads, especially under the sunshine and blue sky we enjoyed. I took photographs at every stop and wrote down names of places so I can identify them.

At Swansea we found a takeout lunch, hamburgers that we carried to the beach and ate while perched on large chunks of rock soaking up sun and the noise of the sea. There were brilliant pink and pale yellow flowers growing on the way to the sand and rock. In the slightly dozy aftermath of food and afternoon sun I remember large sweeps of road winding up and down through forests where sun fell between trees, high walls of ferns and trees on one side of the car and a view through trees to country beyond on the other. The forest full of textures so unlike the ones at home, and a blue light in the air.

At one beach Clive spied a black-cockatoo in the distance. We walked towards it as he tried to show me where it was and finally I could see something black in the green of a large tree. When we got a little closer three cockatoos suddenly took wing and I was astonished at their size. They are more fully named Yellow-tailed Black-cockatoo, and their outer tail feathers are yellow. Though they were still some distance from us when they flew I could see those yellow tails.

We drove on through St. Helen’s to Pyengana and the cheese store there. It smelled like my great uncle’s farm where I spent summers as a child, and the coffee in the café was delicious. Was it called the Holy Cow Café? Perhaps. I’d stopped writing things down by then, but I did take a photograph. Clive bought a huge cheese which we sampled at dinner that evening—also delicious!

The next morning we set off for Stanley, driving alongside Bass Strait from Penguin west, past wonderful flower plantings by the railway tracks. Another day blazing with sun and light bouncing from the sea. Rich agricultural land rises behind the towns. The soil was sometimes almost black and at others a rich red-black. Bright new green rows of seedlings poked through. The hills looked raked or combed, lines of soil alternating with lines of green.

Before going into Stanley we visited Highfield House—more about that in another post. We checked into the Stanley Hotel, put on our walking shoes, and walked the Nut, a large lava plug that rises behind the town. The trail up is at a killingly steep angle. Clive bounded ahead while Roz and I took our time, stopping every now and then to catch our breath. On the top there’s a trail you can follow around the height, through heathy growth, a walk unlike any I’d done here before.

When we came down from our good walk we went to the pub for a beer before heading to Xander’s restaurant, just up the street, for a lovely view to the west and dinner. I ordered the beef salad for starters—we were in cattle country, after all—and the ravioli main. The salad was thin slices of beef with assorted vegetables, including beets (beetroot here), red onions and rocket, and the ravioli was feta and spinach, served with a pumpkin sauce. Everything was full of flavour. We ate and talked as the sun sank slowly and the hill we could see through the window grew dark.

And the further adventures of the tour will have to wait for another posting.