Category Archives: Travel

W- Wineglass Bay, Freycinet National Park, Tasmania.

Welcome to Day 22 of the Blogging A-Z April Challenge.

As you may be aware, we’re Travelling Alphabetically Around Tasmania on Beyond the Flow this year.  Last night, we stayed at Wines for Joanie, and today, we’re driving around 215km South-East to Wineglass Bay in Freycinet National Park.

Map to Wineglass Bay

While I know it sounds rather corny travelling from Wines for Joanie to Wineglass Bay, that’s pure, serendipitous coincidence. How the letters fell out of the cornflakes box. Wineglass Bay is shaped like it’s namesake. That’s all.

Quite frankly, Wineglass Bay and the Freycinet National Park is a must-see on even on the shortest visit to Tasmania. It’s totally beyond stunning and absolutely unforgettable. At the same time, you’ll be wanting decent weather to give it its due and to capture a photo worth posting (the competition is fierce). While there’s nothing like a stunning, expansive view to stretch your insides out and liberate you from life’s stresses and strains, Wineglass Bay has to be one of the best natural views in the world. It simply is what it is.

That said, I’ve been to Tassie about five times and I’ve only been there once. Unfortunately, we didn’t actually make it to Wineglass Bay or to Freycinet National Park on our January trip. I also repeat a previous confession, that I visited Queenstown on my first trip to Tassie and missed the stunning East coast entirely, due to lack of research. I was pretty cheesed off with myself, when I found out what I’d missed.

As I’ve said multiple times before, Tasmania is much, much bigger on the ground than it appears on the map. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s packed to the rafters with so much to do, see, eat and drink that someone must’ve squished it in. Made it fit.

Wineglass Bay can be so stunning, that it’s easy to forget that this can be a treacherous stretch of sea. That there’s nothing breaking the powerful force of the Pacific Ocean between South America and the Tasmanian coast, and those waves can really become fierce, menacing and the makings of shipwrecks. I don’t believe that I’ve even seen a photo of Wineglass Bay when she’s “in a mood” or “throwing a tanty”. However, just because this alter-ego might not suit the tourist brochures, that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

coles-bay-lighthouse-walk-ro

Check out that wind.

Here are just a few headlines I’ve sandwiched together:

SEAMAN DROWNED. FELL OVERBOARD NEAR WINEGLASS BAY. The Mercury (Hobart, Tas. : 1860 – 1954) Friday 16 January 1925 FISHING BOAT WRECKED. IN WINEGLASS BAY. HOBART, Thursday.  The North West Post (Formby, Tas. : 1887 – 1916) Friday 3 November 1916 p 3 Article…FISHING BOAT ASHORE. STRANDED IN COLE’S BAY. A large fishing; boat on her way from Devonport to Hobart took shelter in Wineglass Bay on Friday, but owing to the easterly -weather she had to leave, and made through the Schouten passage on her way to Hobart. A heavy south-westerly gale towards evening forced her to turn and make for Coles Bay, which was reached early on Saturday morning. Owing to the darkness the boat ran ashore, and was left stranded. The spare gear was removed, and it was expected to refloat the boat during the week-end. Mercury (Hobart, Tas. : 1860 – 1954), Thursday 28 December 1933, page 2… STRANDED SHIP The interstate freighter Merino ran aground early yesterday morning near Wineglass Bay, on the East Coast of Tasmania. On board is a £100,000 collection of French paintings, as well as 200 tons o£ general cargo. The 549-ton vessel is not in any immediate danger. Two Hobart tugs, the Maydena and Boyer, are on the spot. Mercury (Hobart, Tas. : 1860 – 1954), Friday 26 December 1952, page 1…The fishing smack Lucy Adelaide is a total wreck at Wineglass Bay. Weather Delays Lighthouse Ship North-easterly weather has held up the lighthouse supply ship Cape York at Wineglass Bay, Freycinet Peninsula, and she is now not expected to (berth at Hobart until tomorrow evening.The Cape York has been inspecting the Cape Forestier light house. The vessel probably will start loading stores tomorrow night for her trip around the Tasmanian lighthouses Mercury (Hobart, Tas. : 1860 – 1954), Monday 20 September 1954, page 3…

I thought this story of being shipwrecked on Tasmania’s East Coast back in 1935 was so gripping, that I’ve posted it Here

Coles Bay J & G

However, let’s return to Wineglass Bay. Unfortunately, my chronic illness prevents me from walking down to Wineglass Bay. So, today we’re just going to stick to the lookout and visit nearby Coles and Sleepy Bays and you might notice our son has shrunk a little and through some kind of mystical, fairy magic, has become the Little Man again. He’s been missed.

I hope you’ve enjoyed Wineglass Bay and have the opportunity to experience it in person yourself long before you need to write that dreaded bucket list!

xx Rowena

 

 

Shipwrecked Near Wineglass Bay, Tasmania 1935.

Never trust a postcard! Calm seas and blue skies, can turn in an instant as the fury of the sea reveals itself in all its might.

While researching Tasmania’s Wineglass Bay, I came across this thrilling story of being shipwrecked on Tasmania’s East Coast from 1935 when you largely had to save yourself from the stormy depths:

SHIP-WRECKED MEN TELL OF TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE .. . . . .

LOST CUTTER Crew’s Thrilling Escape LONG ORDEAL HOBART, Thursday.

Clad in the tattered remnants of the clothing they had worn during their terrible experience, and grasping battered suit-cases, still showing signs of immersion in salt water, Thomas Aldrich and Carl Henderson, survivors of the ill-fated fishing cutter Derwent, stepped wearily from a ferry steamer on to the Brooke-street pier to-day. They had reached Hobart – their goal-in a vessel called the Derwent, but their own vessel, similarly named, with all their personal belongings, fishing gear, papers, and money, lies in eight fathoms of water off the Schouten Peninsula. Unshaven and unkempt, one wearing thigh boots and the other borrowed shoes, with their clothes torn and dishevelled, and their faces want and drawn, as the result of their experience, the two men unfolded a remarkable story of their desperate fight against terrific odds, and of how finally they had won through to land exhausted on the East Coast after their vessel had sunk almost beneath their feet.

Shipwreck

“I have been at sea for 21 years, and have previously been shipwrecked at the Falkland Islands,” began Henderson; “but never in my life have I seen such terrific seas or experienced such a terrible day.” With his companion, who owned the vessel, Henderson continued, he had set out from Stony Point (Vic.) on Easter Sunday in good weather, and had experienced an uneventful run to Wilson’s Promontory. After passing Curtis Island, however, the first mishap had occurred. The cutter began to leak in the bow, and examination disclosed that a bolt in the hull had been jarred and loosened, allowing the water to slowly filter into the vessel.

“Although I was obliged to take long spells at the wheel, we did not regard the mishap seriously,” continued Henderson, “and decided to push on, despite the fact that we were only about 30 miles from the Promontory. The weather became worse shortly after this, and we decided to shelter under Chappel Island. At 4 o’clock in the afternoon we anchored, and we then found that a crack had developed in the tiller as the result of the buffeting we had received.

Raging Gale

Henderson said the tiller had been successfully patched and the voyage had been continued in finer weather. On Monday night last, when the vessel sheltered at Preservation Island, rain began to fall heavily, and the breeze freshened. Driving rain continued throughout the night, and gradually the south-easterly wind became a raging gale.

“We realised that our position was precarious,” said Mr. Aldrich. The sea had been lashed to a fury. The waves were leaping 40ft. high, and a 30-mile gale was blowing. Hour after hour my friend (Henderson) hung on to the wheel, and I pumped desperately. We had lowered the sail, and for 19 hours Henderson endeavoured to keep her to the wind whilst I worked under his instructions. When dawn broke, mist and blinding rain prevented us from sighting land. And then the engine stopped. The boat had been straining heavily under the power of the engine and the reefed sails, and we had sighted land somewhere near Maria Island and Schouten. We decided to make for Wineglass Bay, and would have made it all right only for that mishap.

‘Mountainous seas were dashing over the combings, and the engine stopped. “Our position was now even more desperate,” continued Aldrich. “Abandoning the pump, I clawed my way to where Henderson was fighting to hold the wheel over, and levered my shoulder to the wheel in an endeavour to keep her to her course. The gale was bending the staysail like a whip, and the terrific strain apparently was too much. Suddenly the water began to pour into her. Henderson scrambled below, waist-deep in water, in an endeavour to grasp our bags, while I struggled desperately with the dinghy. He threw a bag up, thinking it was mine, but he had found the wrong one.”

Unforgettable Hours

“We dared not delay,” said Aldric “and we lowered the dinghy with great difficulty into the heaving sea. Immediately the boat was half-filled with water, but, by bailing, we managed to keep afloat and move away from the cutter. Within seven minutes from the time the water began to pour in, she had disappeared. “We spent three hours in the dinghy that I will never forget,” continued Aldrich. “For two hours I bailed while Henderson used the paddles. Then for another hour we searched the coast in an attempt ‘to find a suitable place to land. It was only with the greatest difficulty that we kept the dinghy afloat, and as we could not make Wineglass Bay, we decided to make for Sleepy Bay, where the seas were crashing onto the rocks. Henderson; who was doing a wonderful job, forced the dinghy in, stern first, and with waves spraying up alot, I jumped for the shelving rock. How I landed I do not know, but I managed to grab the rope that Henderson threw to me, and we gained the shore. A few moments later the dinghy was dashed to pieces”

For a ‘while the men rested exhausted on the inhospitable shore, but rousing themselves from the stupor into which they had fallen, they scrambled up the steep hills of the Hazard Mountains. Luckily, Henderson knew the whereabouts of a prospector’s camp, and after wading waist-high through swollen creeks and streams the men reached the camp. “I was all in then,” said Aldrich, “and when I saw McCrac and Fenner I dropped at their feet.” The prospectors did all they could for us, and gave us the first food we had had for 15 hours.” The shipwrecked men stayed the night with the prospectors and then began to walk overland to Swansea “We must have walked 40 miles,” said Henderson, “and when we reached Swansea with our suitcases, which were practically empty, we went to Captain Taylor, of the Bay View Hotel, who communicated with the Commissioner of Police (Colonel J. E. C. Lord) and did all he could for us.” Examiner (Launceston, Tas. : 1900 – 1954), Friday 3 May 1935, page 7

 

V- Tasmanian Vineyards.

Welcome to Day 18 of the Blogging A -Z April Challenge.

As you could imagine, finding something for the letter “V”, can be quite difficult. However, while we were in Tasmania, we actually visited a VINEYARD, Wines for Joanie, in Sidmouth. According to Wine Tasmania CEO Sheralee Davies, we’re were in good company:

“The latest tourism figures show that more than 262,000 visitors called in to a cellar door during their stay in Tasmania last year, 21% of all visitors and an increase of 22.5% on 2015.”

So, today we’re driving from Ulverstone via the Batman Bridge where we spent ANZAC Day, and heading for Sidmouth, 35 minutes from Launceston in the Tamar Valley.

While we’re getting there, I thought I’d also let you know that Tasmania has four designated wine trails:

However, I should warn you that if you’re any kind of wine connoisseur or expert, I’m not the most appropriate tour guide. I don’t really drink wine. Indeed, I don’t like most wines, unless they’re really sweet and I used to be known to add Diet Coke to port in my university days. While Geoff does enjoy a bit of wine and has been nurtured by my father who is an absolute wine connoisseur with a very well-developed palate, his mother was a card-carrying member of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. So, our expertise on the wine front is exceptionally limited.

“I can certainly see that you know your wine. Most of the guests who stay here wouldn’t know the difference between Bordeaux and Claret.”

― Basil Fawlty, “Fawlty Towers”

However, I do have my uses and, therefore, make a great designated driver. Well, somewhat good, because I still want to have a taste.

Strangely, I enjoy all the pomp and ceremony of a wine tasting. Moreover, being a lover of history and people, I am also interested in what possessed someone to turn an apple orchard into a vineyard and pin all their hopes and dreams in what to me, seems like a very risky venture. Why not become an accountant? (not that I followed that “guaranteed path” either!!)

I thought this, blurb from another Tasmanian vineyard, Sinapius, summed this up pretty well:

“Sinapius is about being; one of a kind, butting the trend, forging our own path, and not conforming. So who would be crazy enough to plant vines at 7700 to 11110 vines per hectare, with a fruiting wire at 40cm above the ground, and in a cold challenging climate such as Tasmania…..

We are!

With a true passion and respect for the environment, our wines are aimed to reflect the ancient soils from the region, each season, and the uniqueness of our special site in Piper Brook, Tasmania. We are not winemakers at Sinapius – we are wine growers as for us, there is no separation between vineyard and winery. Each vine is treated with the individual attention it deserves and provides us in return with a small yield, but with maximum intensity. With minimalist winemaking intervention, each wine represents a true expression of our terroir.”

Another thing I love about vineyards, is the relaxed, beautiful scenery where you could have a couple of glasses of wine, cheese and bickies, and simply fall asleep basking in the muted sun.

That’s if I wasn’t darting all over the place taking photos. You know me. My eye rarely falls asleep, especially travelling. We have more stop-starts than a learner driver.

Anyway, as I said, today we’re off to Wines For Joanie. However, out of all of Tasmania’s vineyards why  are we going there?

Well, the answer is simple. My mother’s name is Joan and when she was younger, she was known as “Joanie”. So, when we spotted the sign while driving from Devonport to Scottsdale via the Batman Bridge, we had to stop and buy her a bottle. To be perfectly honest, we were going buy a bottle no matter what, but, we enjoyed our tasting and bought a bottle for Mum and for Dad. Don’t ask me what we bought. My Dad’s the wine connoisseur, not me. Indeed, he considers my wine education an epic fail and he now refuses to even pour me a glass of wine, because I never finish it. I can have “some of Geoff’s”. I was much more interested in photographing the tasting, the former apple packing shed and their cottages. Wow! I’d love to stay there.

As an aside, have you ever wondered who writes wine reviews? It seems to me that most, if not all of them, are written by experts with very refined palates. That’s all very well for their own. But what you’re average Joe or Joan who doesn’t know riesling from chardonnay?

Moreover, why do wine reviewers always have to use such ridiculous language? Surely, their English teachers must’ve castigated them for regurgitating the thesaurus, just like mine did?

Whatever happened to the KISS Principle (Keep It Simple, Stupid!)?

Why don’t you ever read: “This is vinegar. Best drizzled over hot chips. Stop being such a cheap skate and buy something decent next time”. “More floral than a bunch of roses”. “Contains the ashes of my mother-in-law. Strain before use.” “More oak than an oak tree.” “Worse the cough syrup”? “The best thing since rocket fuel”.

Or, perhaps I’ve just tasted some funny wines.

I like how Paul Coelo put it:

“Accept what life offers you and try to drink from every cup. All wines should be tasted; some should only be sipped, but with others, drink the whole bottle.”

What about you? Have you sampled any Tasmanian wines? Or, perhaps you’re from the industry and could add something useful to my mumbo jumbo? You’re more than welcome to add even lengthy comments as I am well and truly out of my depth.

xx Rowena

PS: I was literally about to click on “post” when I had another look at the Wines for Joanie’s web site and read their story. They have actually posted a lovely “video” about their story, telling why they bought the vineyard and I chuckled to read that Prue is actually an accountant by trade. Anyway, I know you’ll love seeing this and my kids who love vlogging and have been telling me to post video, will think I’ve actually listened! The Story Behind Wines for Joanie. This really should go at the beginning but this was when I found it.

References

http://winetasmania.com.au/

https://www.winesforjoanie.com.au/

http://sinapius.com.au/

The Villains of Lower Crackpot.

Read this first: Visiting T- Tazmazia & Lower Crackpot.

Then, the photos speak for themselves!

We  should’ve headed the warnings:

And then we got caught!

Yes, we definitely got so much more than we bargained for visiting Lower Crackpot, but at least the food is good.

xx Rowena

T- Tazmazia & Lower Crackpot.

Welcome to Day 17 of the Blogging A-Z April Challenge. Today, we’re driving from Salamanca Place in Hobart via Sheffield to reach Tazmazia, intriguingly located in the town of Promised Land. Tazmazia is not only home to a giant hedge maze filled with all sorts of signs, jokes, the proverbial fork in the road and the “throne”, it also houses the Village of Lower Crackpot and the Embassy Gardens.

DSC_9125

To be perfectly honest, I feel quite speechless when it comes to describing Tazmazia. I know there’s a hidden message in there somewhere. Something beyond the multifarious messages you’ll read as you traverse the maze. A je ne sais quoi beyond humour in the miniature village, which reawakens all your childhood dreams of waking up in fairyland.

Yet, there’s also a shiver, multitudinous question marks and recognition of the very clever works of satire which poke at our political and social entities. Along way from art for art’s sake or a pure escape into fantasy, if you open yourself up to these deeper messages, you’ll be encouraged not only to think but perhaps also to act. Respond. Make a difference…or even build a new world.

The Maze

The Village of Lower Crackpot

“There is such a place as fairyland – but only children can find the way to it. And they do not know that it is fairyland until they have grown so old that they forget the way. One bitter day, when they seek it and cannot find it, they realize what they have lost; and that is the tragedy of life. On that day the gates of Eden are shut behind them and the age of gold is over. Henceforth they must dwell in the common light of common day. Only a few, who remain children at heart, can ever find that fair, lost path again; and blessed are they above mortals. They, and only they, can bring us tidings from that dear country where we once sojourned and from which we must evermore be exiles. The world calls them its singers and poets and artists and story-tellers; but they are just people who have never forgotten the way to fairyland.”
L.M. Montgomery, The Story Girl

“First, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this; ‘for it might end, you know,’ said Alice to herself; ‘in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like then?’

Alice in Wonderland

The Embassy Gardens

After being dazzled by Tazmania itself, I noticed its creator, the Laird of Lower Crackpot simply sitting on a bench outside the shop. This could be one of the advantages to reaching places on closing. You can get a few insights behind the scenes as the place unwinds, starts to go to sleep.

DSC_9471Me being me and having the opportunity to meet Tazmazia’s creator, I had to ask him the inevitable: “Why did you built it?” He explained how he liked building things and using his hands and one thing lead to another. He also told us about how he had this guy come through who said he really envied what he’d done. How he’d been able to create his own town from scratch. He asked him what he did for a crust and the man replied: “Town Planner”. Ah! I could just imagine his frustration!

That reminds me of another bonus about travelling around Tasmania, most of the businesses and tourist attractions are owner and family run. This means that you have a good chance of meeting up with the brains and personality behind it all, which for me makes for a much more intimate and meaningful holiday experience.

How did you find our trip to Tazmazia? Have you ever been there yourself or perhaps to somewhere like it, although I sincerely believe this place has to be a one off and absolutely inimitable!

xx Rowena

Driving to Promised Land.

Welcome to Day 17 of the Blogging A-Z April Challenge.

 

Today, we’re driving from Hobart to Tazmazia, which is located in Promised Land, a town located on Lake Barrington (Tasmania), Promised Land is 200km from Hobart, and about 80 km south of Launceston. The postcode is 7306.

DSC_9064

When the car heard us mention all the driving we’ve been doing,she went crackers. You sods with all  your “are we there yets?”Get real! You’ll just sit there, while I do all the work!

As you know, we’ve been doing a crazy amount of driving around Tasmania. However, we’ve been rushing so much, that I’ve barely had time to share scenery along the way.

So, before we head off to Tasmazia today, we’re having a horse stop beside the road and taking a look at Mt Roland.

Horses are in my husband’s blood. Both sets of great Grandparents bred horses and his Great Great Uncle, Daniel Griffin was a journalist who not only wrote a lot about horse-racing, he knew the horses and their pedigrees inside out. Another Great Great Uncle, James Newton was very involved in horse racing and cousins upon cousins were involved pacing, breeding, racing…you name it.

That said, it’s can be easy to forget that not so long ago, horses were commonplace before advent of the car. It wasn’t just his family.

Anyway, we had to stop when we spotted these horses beside the road. They were so lovely and friendly.

On that note, we’d better get back in the car and head up the hill to Tazmazia and the Promised Land.

xx Rowena