Penitentiaries & Penguins
The old joints were a bit stiff this morning after yesterday’s walk. I needed a bit of WD-40 to get moving again!
We’d been told last night that the breakfast room here closes at 9am, which does seem a little early, especially when you are on holidays. We have at least a couple in our little posse that are a bit partial to a sleep-in so we made it to the brekky room about 15 minutes shy of closing. A row of shiny, silver hot food trays were lined up along the table, looking very promising but when we rolled back the lids to peep inside, they were all empty. Some Weetbix and Corn Flakes were all that was left, along with half a loaf of bread and some apples and oranges that had seen better days (after biting into my apple, I’m convinced they had been playing cricket with it before we got there!).
After breakfast it was time to take a step back in history and take a wander through the Port Arthur convict penal colony. Molly took some time out to rest and chill while the rest of us enjoyed strolling around the lush gardens and visiting all the remaining buildings on the site. After being hit with a couple of raging bushfires within 2 years of each other, back in the late 1890s, some of the settlement had to be rebuilt and some still stands in ruins. The site is beautifully curated, with loads of great information and restorations to help imagine what life must’ve been like for these poor souls, some of whom were barely out of short pants when they were transported halfway across the world on disease-ridden, rat-infested ships, for some quite trivial crimes. We were shocked at the tiny cells they were held in - barely enough room to swing a cat, as my mum would say. By contrast, the Commandant’s pad at the top of the hill was very swanky indeed. While the poor young convicts were shivering in their hammocks and chowing down on slop, the Head Honcho and his wife would have been sipping tea and eating scones; toes nestled deep in their plush carpets, warming themselves by one of their many fireplaces.
After touring the church, hospital, penitentiary and a few of the other buildings, nature called simultaneously for Sam, Maisy and I, so we made our way across the site to find the toilet, agreeing to meet Ross & Tobes down at the wharf for our 11:40am all-included cruise to Death Island. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a quick trip to the loo (hey, when you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go) and as the 3 of us sprinted down the hill to the wharf, we watched helplessly as our vessel pulled out slowly from the wharf; Toby and Ross smiling and waving us off. These Tasmanians are really sticklers for punctuality.
While the ship was sailing we 3 lunatics took a look in the Asylum (feeling right at home) and waited for our seafarers to report back about what we’d missed.
The ominous sounding Death Island was actually an island cemetery, where the free settlers and officers were buried at the top of the hill and paupers, convicts, lunatics and other general riff-raff were buried down below. Apparently we didn’t miss too much.
It’s hard to visit Port Arthur without thinking about what happened in 1996 and a certain sadness has tainted the place since then. The shell of the Broad Arrow Cafe has been retained as a memorial, with plaques commemorating the 35 people who prematurely and tragically lost their lives at the hands of that monster, Martin Bryant. I shed a tear seeing the names of Walter Mikak’s little girls. Just unbelievably sad.
After the drama of a couple of big bumblebees in the car, (out of the car and then back in and then back out of the car) we were back on the road again, passing dry grassy fields feeding clumps of fat sheep, farmland for miles and absolutely no internet connection. Siri directed us up a “highway” that was nothing more than a dirt road and when we came face-to-face with a sign that said “WARNING, ROAD SECTIONS SUITABLE FOR 4WD ONLY”, Sam made the executive decision that the Carnival might not be up for the journey and that a U-Turn was in order, to search for some sealed roads nearby. We did note that we only ever come across dirt roads when Sam’s at the wheel…
We left the road at Maignon Bay, a spectacular stretch of southern Tasmanian coastline and the home of Remarkable Cave. Descending a steep staircase (more stairs!) we arived at a viewing platform with a fantastic up-close view of - and through - this aptly named cave, to the swirling surf in the bay beyond. Wildlife abounds in this place and we were sad to see (and smell) a big sea lion stranded and lifeless on the shore. Remarkable Cave is also a popular penguin haunt at sunset, so they say, but sunset was still a fair way off so we pressed on.
At one stage of the drive, I nodded off in the backseat, totally oblivious to the fact that my family - the paparazzi - found my sleeping face hilarious and snapped a multitude of incriminating photos of me while I slumbered peacefully. Initially I was indignant but upon viewing the photos, they do have a point. You’ve heard of ‘resting b!t#h face”, well it seems l have a resting corpse face.
In my post yesterday, I referred to “donor’’ kebabs and was accused by the kids as sounding like a Boomer. “They’re just kebabs Mum, come on”. So when we reached the little town of Boomer Bay, Sam told me to check my comment here. We had lunch at a country pub; a throwback from the 70s, where no one on staff seemed to know what was in the Arabiata pasta. Our resident vegetarian, Miss Molly, just wanted to know if it contained meat. No-one knew. Eventually they realised it did contain chorizo but they could just leave that out. Leave it out they did, along with the sauce and replaced it instead with thickly sliced garlic that looked like slices of onion. Might need to stop off at a service station for some mints…
We did make another roadside stop for some famous Tasmanian oysters. Rossco treated himself to half a dozen, which he reported were delicious but salty.
Kalvedon Beach, in the heart of the national park, was absolutely stunning. A lone stone hut sits on the little headland and overlooks the waves and the sandy shore is awash with gorgeous shells. While I went for a little explore, everyone had a refreshing dip. There was only a smattering of other people there and it was so nice to see the place completely untouched or built-on; just raw nature at its best.
After dinner tonight we visited the local “Penguin Rock” right on sunset and at what appeared to be dinner time for the seagulls, who were crazily swarming around overhead, most with fish in their mouths. It was a hive of activity and local fishermen were taking advantage of all the fish. Penguin Rock, just off the coast, was absolutely covered in cute little penguins but they were just a bit too tiny to see clearly as none of us had brought our proper cameras. Binoculars would have come in handy! We’ll have to come back tomorrow night.
