A Geez At Some Cheese And Lavender On the Breeze
Rossco was behind the wheel today as we departed pretty St Helens; headed for Launceston, with a string of little spots to pop into on the day’s itinerary, starting with a couple of waterfalls. Halls Falls was numero uno on the hit list but we missed the elusive turn-off and as we sat by the side of the highway waiting to do a U-turn, did a side-by-side, fall-to-fall comparison of the 2 waterfalls and decided one waterfall was probably enough for one day and that Halls Falls was a no go. St Columba Falls, on the other hand, with its gently sloping, family friendly track, just a 30 minute round trip, was well worth a stop. The track took us deep into a cool, shady rainforest with moss-covered trunks, granite boulders with velvety lush greenery and the tallest tree ferns we’d ever seen, towering above our heads. It was like being in an Avatar theme park. Being one of Tasmania’s highest falls, there was definitely a high degree of neck craning involved in seeing the cascading torrent - that’s never run dry -in all its glory. Sam had forgotten to tell us, we found out later, that we should have been on the look-out for platypus! He said he had been looking though and hadn’t spied any.
The Apple Isle is well known, world-over, for its abundance of scrumptious homegrown produce and we’re convinced that if you put the word ‘Tasmanian’ in front of any food stuff - any at all - it will automatically taste better. Take for example, salmon. Who would want ordinary, everyday salmon when you could have Tasmanian salmon? And how much better does Tasmanian cheddar sound than just run of the mill boring old cheddar? Tasmanian cherries, Tasmanian fudge, Tasmanian scallops…you see what I mean? I’m salivating just thinking about it. It was time for us to sample some Tasmanian produce first-hand, or as Sam so eloquently put it: have a geez at some cheese.
Pyengana Dairy, a cute little artisan cheese-maker, was surrounded by paddocks of well-fed, shiny-coated cows (one of whom had escaped the fence and was sauntering aimlessly in the middle of the road). Molly, who never met a cheese she didn’t like, was in her element as we came to the tasting. Labelled jars full of various cheese cubes were ready to sample on waiting toothpicks and were so delicious we couldn’t help but purchase a couple to take away with us. Ross also grabbed us some chocolate, made all the more irresistible due to the fact it had “Tasmanian” in the title.
Our next stop was the little town of Derby, an old tin-mining town established in the late 1800s, home to the Instagram-famous Derby Floating Sauna and also as we soon discovered, a well-known hub for mountain biking; a venue in the world tour of mountain biking no less. The town’s BMX track was swarming with riders and there were signs advertising bike tours and shops stocked with bikes galore.
Maisy and Toby decided to chill in the car while the rest of us took a quick stroll across a squeaky bridge, up a dirt track that lead to the famed sauna. Floating on its own little dock in the lake, a session inside the iconic hot box will set you back $45 but they also offer a Group Session: a private experience with a Sauna Master on hand to walk you through your hot cold Sauna session. (What do you want to be when you grow up little Johnny? A Sauna Master) Sounds enticing but sadly, this cute little sauna is booked out for months in advance.
We lunched at a great little cafe in Bridport that was a church in its former life, and then ventured down to the Bridestowe Lavender Estate to be immersed in a sea of purple. It cost $20 per person to enter, which Ross felt was a bit steep just for the privilege of looking at flowers. After we all partook in some surprisingly delicious lavender ice cream, he and Tobes decided to sit it out and enjoy each other’s company, rather than bothering with lavender fields.
Molly, Maisy and I, along with Sam (who’d worn his purple socks especially for the occasion) had a great time enjoying the ambience and fragrance of the rows of purple, wandering through to the soundtrack of loudly buzzing bees. A fellow-flower-admirer stopped us for a chat and as we all gazed out over the blooms he pondered aloud: “what is it, do you think that makes it so grand?” The deep, red dirt contrasted with the bright purple of the blossoms on such a large scale really was quite grand indeed.
Driving into Launceston (“Lonny” to the locals, Toby tells us) was a contrast to the rural landscape we had been in for most of the day. Houses were sprawled across the hill before us as we passed signs for the Scotsdale Bakery: home to the “famous Prickle Hall Pastie”, whatever that is.
We are staying in the old coffee palace, dating back to 1888, with exposed brick and very cool interiors. We were all sitting around chatting in the lounge room and Ross had pulled up a little furry, barrel-shaped chair to join us. All of a sudden there was some commotion, followed by a loud bang and a crumpled Ross, sitting in the floor in shock. When he’d leant forward, his little chair had done a somersault and he’d toppled right off it. If only someone had had a Handycam ready for that one. It would have been a sure contender for a prize on Australia’s Funniest Home videos. We were all in fits of laughter, including Rossco, once his adrenaline had abated.
Steering clear of that chair, later in the evening he chose to try sit in the other chair, a twin to the tumbler. Sure enough, in a matter of minutes…BANG! The chair was over and he was on the floor again. I can’t keep a straight face even writing about it. Gosh it was funny.
All a tad weary from our day on the road(and Ross wanting to sit on a chair with more suitable structural integrity) we walked down to the waterfront to grab a bite to eat. Molly thought she’d spotted her uni lecturer’s artworks on the wall of the restaurant. They happened to be self-portraits but he was wearing a furry rabbit suit with only his tattooed legs showing. She searched up a picture so we could compare leg tattoos and confirm that yes, it was indeed him. What are the chances?
Tobes spied an electric scooter for hire on the footpath and decided he’d skip the walk and beat us back home, zooming off down the street. When we arrived, he was nowhere in sight. It turns out there is a strict NO PARKING rule for scooters for most of the CBD and he’d had to park it on the outskirts and walk back in. So much for taking a short-cut.
We indulged in some dessert from the famous Charlie’s Dessert Bar, one of Launceston’s finest, and with the scent of lavender still in our noses, made a bee-line for bed.
