The East Coast Vibe

After five weeks of back to back adventure, it was time to sit down and look at what I had left on the bucket list, and importantly, how much time did we have left. Remember, Tasmania is small. I figured out we had about 600klms to do in 15 days, which would give us a bit of time to basically come down of the travel ‘high’ of the past 5 weeks. Don’t get me wrong. There is still plenty to see on Tassie’s most popular coast and we could allow more time for the wind to blow us in different directions (more of that next time).

We left the Tasman Peninsula in our rear view mirror, skirted Hobart and headed for Triabunna. Now, Google maps will always find the shortest route between to points, however that’s not always the best option. Especially when you drive past a servo, thinking, “I’ll wait till the next one”, then five minutes later you’re on a dirt road heading into the mountains. Assumption turns to hope and then to consternation. The ‘worst case scenario’ is not far behind. With 30klms to the next town, no phone reception and the fuel gauge flashing ‘fool, fool’, it does somewhat focus the mind. Luckily, with the diesel heater now firing up, I had a couple of litres in a jerry can, just enough to make it to Triabunna. Meanwhile Ken’s GPS had chosen the road more travelled and arrived about 20 minutes later, oblivious to my brush with disaster.

Triabunna is the jumping off point to another colonial tourist attraction, Maria Island. But we both agreed, we were ‘ruined out’. So Ken made up this fabulous mussel ‘surprise’ instead, while we considered our options. We decided to take a run to the historic town of Richmond, which just happened to be on our way to my new BF distillery at Kempton. Reps from The Old Kempton Distillery were handing out brochures at the Salamanca Markets back in Hobart. It sounds lame, but I loved the packaging and assumed the whisky inside would be just as good. Of course, if you love your Scotch, having the word ‘old’ in the brand name, doesn’t do it any harm either.

But first, Richmond. We arrived to a crisp morning and piecing blue skies. Originally, land of the Moomairremener people, the Richmond area was the first explored after Hobart was established in 1803. An important staging post between Hobart and the east coast and good food production land, Richmond had it’s first heyday between 1823 and 1862. But with the end of the convict system and the gold rushes in Victoria during the 1850’s, the town became a sleepy backwater, largely forgotten for over a century.

Fast forward to today and it’s as though the whole town has been placed under an historic conservation order. Long rediscovered as a tourist attraction, even the occasional new dwelling is built in the colonial style. Many houses have been lovingly restored, the town dotted with historic churches, courthouse and gaol. The star attraction is the Richmond Bridge, built by convict labour in 1824-25, the oldest stone bridge in Australia. Beautiful, solid as and still is use.

After a great morning tea at The Richmond Bakery, we hared off via Baghdad to Kempton. I couldn’t in all conscience, come to Tassie without taking the taste of the Apple Isle back with me.

I won’t say how much this little duo cost me, but I’m sure as hell gonna’ make them last. Clutching the bag of ‘my precious’, I scurried back to the car, looking suspiciously in all directions(lol).

Who hasn’t heard of Wineglass Bay? Located in the Feycinet National Park, it’s the centerpiece of a remote, by foot, part of the Tasmanian coast. We left Triabunna the next morning. Oh, the joy of flat roads and gentle rolling hills! Nothing like we had experienced in the last few weeks. We settled on a couple of sites at River & Rocks Camping Ground about ten minutes from Coles Bay. Right on the river and views across to the National Park, it was perfect.

We’d set up by lunch and did a run into Coles Bay and assess the walk over to Wineglass Bay. It was cloudy but the weather was going to be good the next day. The Three Peaks dominate the skyline over this seaside village. We soon realized that our expedition the next day was a two-parter. A big climb to the view of Wineglass Bay and then a big down and back to the beach was the mission – if we chose to accept.

We decided to launch just after lunch. As with a lot of ‘walks’, it started off pleasant enough, but with the mountains looming ever higher overhead, we knew what we were in for. Thoughtfully, National Parks provided seats at judicious intervals and after about an hour we reached the viewing platform that looked down on Wineglass Bay.

Most people are content to rest on their laurels just getting this far, but for the crazy brave and just another 1000 steps, is the chance to walk on the white sands and bragging rights (of sorts). Besides, you, loyal readers, get to see what most don’t. Ken was happy to wave me away and I set off. The steps were steep and relentless and with the sun just starting it’s slide towards the horizon, I feigned indifference to the climb out to come, yet casting my eyes around for possible walking sticks at the same time. The beach came and went through the trees as I made my way ever downward. A flat stretch and then more stairs and then, there it was .

Made more beautiful by its remoteness, this arc of white sand stretched away in a line broken only by the masts of two yachts sheltering in the distance. Not a sound, only the waves spilling onto the shore line

The sun was already casting shadows across the sand and the air had started to cool. Time to go. The first stair climb was the harbinger of what was to come. Along the flat stretch, eyes darted furtively from side to side, finally landing on a suitable branch to help me survive what I’m sure are known to the locals as The Stairs of Death. Damnation with no relief. Five hundred from the beach to the top, now four hundred of them in front of me. That extra mile can be daunting, but a price happily paid for bucket list opportunities like this.

Eventually, the cliff tops emerged and ‘daylight’ heralded the end of the climb up. I laid on a bench sucking in he big ones, grateful that it was ALL downhill from here.