Days 10 (Sat), 11 (Sun) & 12 (Mon)
I always knew flying in a helicopter would be cool. Crazy cool and amazingly awesome, in fact. But the real experience of it is beyond words. Breathtakingly beautiful. I couldn’t stop smiling as we whirled our way across Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park.
But let me back up a bit. When we last saw our fearless travelers ….
It was Friday night, and rainy yet again in Melbourne. But Leo and I ventured out to dinner and found …. drumroll please … KANGAROO! We were wandering among the wet alleys of Melbourne in search of dinner. Some enterprising host standing outside said, “Why don’t you check out our menu?” I had just been telling Leo we must try kangaroo before we leave. And there it was.
It tastes like steak. A bit tougher and very lean, more sirloin than filet or ribeye. But tasty just the same. We hope to try it again elsewhere for comparison, because he read somewhere that it’s hit or miss.
Saturday we strolled over to the main shopping mall. Prada, Gucci and others line Collins Street in the city centre, but the mall could hold its own, with multiple levels of all the big brands. We then took a peek at Federation Square, the city’s main public activity center. The “footy” game of the year, the Grand Final, was taking place mere blocks away at the arena, but at the Square, hundreds of people stood in the rain to watch it on big screens.
We then stocked up on dinner snacks and grabbed our bags from the hotel before taking the tram out to the pier, where the Spirit of Tasmania was waiting to whisk us to Australia’s island state.
I’ve never been on a cruise ship, but Leo said this is very similar, on a smaller scale. The ship has the obligatory gift shop, a casino and two overpriced restaurants (hence our dinner snacks) along with an outdoor deck area. (No pool.) We found our twin berth room, found a drink at the bar (surprisingly affordable) and said goodbye to the bright lights of Melbourne as the ship pull away from the dock in the dark.
Sunday – By Land and By Air
I slept very well, but the 6:40 a.m. wake up call was a bit early – especially considering Australia just switched to Daylight Saving Time. (I think we are now 15 hours ahead of EDT.) We disembarked and then embarked on our next adventure – DRIVING!
Tasmania is not terribly large or highly populated, so a car is the best way to get around and see it. Before leaving, Leo and I secured a rental car from Hertz, using his IBM discount. (Thanks, big blue!)
I had to laugh at the Hertz guy a bit. He explained our car to us, including the exorbitant $9,900 fee for dinging the car up by zipping too fast on gravel roads.
“I’m sure you guys are fine, but … well nothing against Asians, but they keep driving the cars too fast. The fee used to be $3,000 but we’ve had to jack it up as a real warning.”
Um, ok. As Leo says, Americans are no longer the most obnoxious tourists.
The online booking said we had a Toyota Yaris, so we expected a tiny car. Our Nissan Micra is tiny all right – and comes in a gay blue. It’s actually light blue, sky blue or robin’s egg blue. No matter how you paint it, the car is a cute little gay one. (Please read that sentence knowing I’m laughing as I write it. Sometimes humor doesn’t really come across in print.)
So, keys in hand, let the driving adventure begin! Leo got into the right side to drive first. It felt weird to sit as a passenger in the left seat. The pedals are the same, with gas on the right, so that’s good. The odd one is the turn signal, which is on the right, and windshield wiper thing on the left. I laughed immediately as he went to turn on the signal and instead moved the wiper blades back and forth. Of course, I did the same thing later when it was my turn.
And off we went, driving on the left side of the road. Good thing Tasmania is sparsely populated. Learning to drive the “wrong” way at 7 a.m. on a Sunday helps; there was virtually no one on the roads. It requires more concentration, especially when turning or managing roundabouts, but otherwise, has been fine. Both Leo and I notice we look in the rear view mirror less. Which is good, because we usually just see someone who wants to overtake us. (“Overtake” is how they say “pass,” including all signs for passing lanes.) The signs are very similar, too, so it’s been a snap.
We first drove straight to Cradle Mountain Park, where we hoped to fly in a helicopter for the first time. We seemed to have left the rain back in Melbourne; it was a clear, sunny day with very little wind. Our guidebook says that’s a rarity here. So I crossed my fingers.
The office is a mobile unit across from the Cradle Mountain visitor’s center. No one was there, but we called the number and through the bad phone line determined a guy would be there in 10 minutes.
Turns out, we got the first flight of the season! Dale and the pilot (didn’t catch his name) got settled in and then we walked out to the tiny, white helicopter. It’s not one of those big news or medical helicopters. Instead, it’s a cramped little bubble with four seats. But that made it better, I think.
I had no fear as we took off. As Leo said, it’s like hovering – or even like flying for real. How can I even describe it? I had a silly grin on my face the whole time. It felt like a ride, without the wind in your face. The stunning views of the snow-buffeted Cradle Mountain and surrounding lakes were beyond breathtaking. The entire park was one large landscape photographer’s dream. It would take days to see the enormity of it. Getting the birds-eye view … I have no words for it.
The flight was over far too soon. All Leo and I kept saying afterward was, “That was so awesome! That was so worth it!”
We hopped back in our gay little car and this time, I drove. We headed north and east, bound for St. Helen’s, a tiny community where we’d reserved a room for the night. Our goal: Bay of Fires. We saw a picture of Bay of Fires in a coffee table book we own, and that basically inspired us to include it on our journey.
Again, so worth it. Gorgeous drive by the way. Tasmania is nothing like you might think if all you saw was the Tasmania Devil from Looney Tunes. It looks more like an English countryside, with cows and sheep grazing everywhere, small villages and very few people.
Best of all, there are KANGAROOS! AND WE SAW ONE IN THE WILD! It hopped along the road as we drove through the mountainous areas, stopping just before road and then turning away from our car. We slowed to catch a good look, but we weren’t quick enough to get a picture. The ‘roo was smaller than we expected, hunched over more low to the ground as it hopped. I grinned broadly – another of my Australia goals met! Leo laughed at me becaused I clapped my hands like a little kid and bounced in my seat, exclaiming, “Yay! I can’t believe we saw one!”
There’s not much to say about St. Helen’s, except the hostel was our best yet. (Our place in Perth was a slum, and each one has been a slight step up from the last.) Here, we even had our own bathroom. We drove over to Binalong Bay to scope out the area, planning to get up at sunrise to see it. There, we had dinner at a lovely little café overlooking the water.
Monday – Paradise Found
Today, we got up at 6 a.m. and beat the sun over to Binalong. And guess what! We saw two more ‘roos at 6:15 on our way to the bay! They hopped along the road, veering off once they heard our car. They’re really quite cute. (But I still don’t feel guilty for eating one.)
We bundled up and sat on a towel to watch a spectacular sunrise. The crystal clear water is that gorgeous shade of green that made me want to jump in, even if it is only 50 degrees outside. The calm bay with the fine white sand is the type of beach you see in pictures, devoid of people or even many footprints. Paradise.
Ditto for the nearby Bay of Fires, so named for the red rocks along the shore. They have the same orange shade as Uluru, so Leo and I surmised they are similarly oxidizing. We climbed the rocks and watched the stunning ocean, the sun now a big yellow orb casting a path of diamonds up to the deserted beach. If only I could bottle up the air and the feeling we had standing there, on the edge of the world, watching the sun open the day… (See another picture on Leo’s flickr feed here.)
We headed back to our hostel and checked out, heading south to explore some of the state on our way to its capital, Hobart.
More gorgeous scenery greeted us around every curve as we drove along the main highway hugging the coast. We stopped once in awhile, the best sort of road trip. The best stop was in Swansea, which overlooks the Great Oyster Bay.
I’ve never seen such perfectly turquoise water in my life. I mean, PERFECT. A jeweler would sell stones that color by the bazillions. The water, set with the mountains behind it looked as though an artist had put it all together perfectly.
Thank god some developer hasn’t come along and ruined it. The wildness of the beauty here, its untamed feeling, is part of what makes it so gorgeous. Leo and I turned off at Spiky Beach and had a little picnic of our store food. PBJ sandwiches are the food of the gods when eaten in Eden.
We also scoped out the nearby Spiky Bridge, built by convicts and named for the strange spiky rocks jutting up from its sides. The reason for these spikes, they say, has been lost to history.
We cut inland as we headed south, heading into wine country. We stopped at Freycinet and one other vineyard for a tasting, even buying a bottle of “Australia’s best pinot noir” to take home. As we cruised through the countryside, Leo and I kept saying, “We are so glad we did this.” Not just the trip, but the driving around.
One of our other stops was the hamlet of Ross, pop. 250, home to the Tasmania Wool Centre. Apparently, wool is a fairly big industry in Australia (mining is a HUGE one) and merino sheep abound. We perused the miniscule museum, buying a hat for Leo and a scarf for me. I eyed the sweaters, but the thick ones were as much as A$315. At last check, the exchange rate had swung back in our favor, but not by THAT much, so Leo’s sweater will have to wait for a future day.
We then cruised into Hobart, the largest city in Tasmania, where we are now sitting in our hotel common room, sipping Australian beer. We almost need a little alcohol to bring us down from this high. We haven’t had Internet access the past two days and we’re so far away. It’s a true vacation, disconnecting from all of our worries and woes at home.
Tomorrow we’ll continue our high, driving up to the peak of Hobart’s Mt. Wellington.
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