Thursday was meant to be wet and horrible, but Friday was meant to clear. Now they say Sunday. Drizzle and rain and clouds that skim so close overhead that a country-meets-Perth-meets-desert girl starts to feel claustrophobic. I haven't hiked because the views are obscured by clouds, and it's too cold, and it's wet and I would slip over. I haven't camped anywhere because the elusive sun is always one day ahead of me. So, today I chucked a weather related sook and blew 2 and a half nights accommodation budget on a really nice guest house in Swansea. I'm sitting in the lounge, surrounded by opulence, with an open fireplace that will be lit in a few hours. Tonight I will curl up on the couch and enjoy this weather for what it is - staying-in weather.
Did I mention this opulent guest house comes with complimentary port in both the rooms and the lounge? If I start to sound a bit toddled (more than usual) you'll know why.
My guest house - Meredith House - was built in 1853. So much history here in Tas! Little old wooden shacks are commonplace along the roads. Old coach houses and inns and council buildings are in abundance - every little town has some beautiful pre 1900s architecture to boast.
Yesterday I circled north from New Norfolk to Miena, a town perched on a dam at the Great Lake. I stopped in Bothwell long enough to take a few snaps of Australia's oldest golf course, and further north I briefly looked at the Steppes Sculptures (a Stonehenge-esque ring of stones from 1992) and while there, decided I needed to buy a warmer jumper. 7 degrees at noon - in October, in Australia? Really? I then visited Mr John Beaumont who sleeps eternally on a hill overlooking the lake from which he was the first European to drink. It took his servant three days to circumnavigate the lake (handy, those servants. Shame I don't have a servant who can go camping on my behalf). It's a huge expanse of water - apparently Australia's biggest natural freshwater lake (there go the specifics again!).
His epitaph says:
This John, historians relate, gave signal service to the state in many fields. He was the first to cast his eye and slake his thirst upon this noble inland sea, where now he spends eternity.
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| The Great Lake - looks like an ocean! |
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| Oatlands, with its restored flour mill |
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| Australia's oldest golf course |
After Miena I drove south to Ross, stopping at Longford and Perth on the way. I bought a biscuit in Perth, took a photo of the empty street, and moved on. 2 Perths out of three down, one to go.
I also crossed Mt Blackwood, ascending then descending through dense fog. I caught brief glimpses of amazing views before the clouds obscured them, and also brief glimpses of my life as it flashed before my eyes on each switchback turn. Thankfully it's just a little too late in the year for ice on the roads. I saw a lot of wildlife - entrails emblazoned across the road and tongues sticking out from the force of impact the of the car that had hit them. Lots of wombats and some wallabies.
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| The amazing view from Mt Blackwood |
Ross is terribly pretty at this time of year, all the trees are in blossom. Incidentally, the lambs here are all new too. Or maybe just smaller, due to having two heads to feed (haha). It's a tiny little town but very sweet, and the antique shop isn't bad. There was a stunning 1920s dress there - but it was sky blue and $595 so I reluctantly bid it goodbye. After eating the world's hottest curry at the local pub (when I left five people behind me were sweating over it and talking about how they regretted their order) I went to my cute little room above the town's 100 year old bakery.
This morning I actually woke to rays of sunshine! Alas, they did not remain long after my morning jog, but it was nice to briefly feel like I was back in the real world, and not in some Game of Thrones style tv serial in which winter is always coming. The 42nd parallel is also at Ross - it used to be the border between north and south Tasmania - back then the state was split into two regions which each had an extremely original name, such as Cornwallshire and Sherrifofnottinghamshire or something like that.* Pish posh - get some new names old England!
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Pretty view from WW1 Memorial near Gretna Green
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| Oatlands, boot repairs. Would you trust any kind of repairs to this person?! |
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| Random little old abandoned house with about seventy five electricity powered heaters, apparently. |
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From Ross I headed south, dropping into little towns (Tunbridge, Oatlands, Brighton). I met some antique dealers who used to own hotels all over WA before they retired here, ran into Mandy Burbury on the street in Oatlands (and arranged to have brunch with them on Sunday), dropped into a French garden and interiors store run by the Burbury's shearer and his wife (a shearer who imports French homewares - brilliant) and just missed a huge car crash on a roundabout near Brighton (passed three ambos, a fire truck and a police car heading towards the crash - didn't look good). By that point, the rain had well and truly asserted itself into my day, and I guiltily bypassed the nature park that Tarkine Trails had kindly offered me free entry to - it was too wet and I've seen devils and wombats before and really all I wanted was a roaring fireplace.
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| Mum an dad - do I remember this bridge from last time I was here? I always thought this was Ross bridge, but nope! |
So, here I am. It's been a nice couple of days, driving around, admiring some incredible scenery, and for all my tongue-in-cheek whinging about the weather, it isn't the end of the world. There's still time for the sun to shine!
Now I'm off to have fish and chips for dinner.** Yay!
* The north was Cornwall and the south was Buckinghamshire. They split Tas at the 42nd parallel because two blokes running the place couldn't get along. A whole state. Split. Because of two little temper tantrum throwing twits. Honestly.
**Note: I actually ended up having seafood chowder and oysters for dinner - how decadent!
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| Free port! |
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