Piners and Miners

Toughness is a difficult thing to measure, mostly because it’s a highly contextual value statement.

Everest mountaineers are tough, that a given. I’ll be heading up when the escalator goes in, for what it’s worth.

Our special forces soldiers are tough. Olympians are tough. Footy players are tough. Well, maybe not Essendon, but the point still stands.

Yet none of these groups have a patch on the early Tasmanian west coast pioneers. Their lot was absurdly difficult, and they persevered in spite of it. In the end the challenge was insurmountable, and this poses an interesting question. When adverse circumstance prevails, what does that mean of the combatants?

Perhaps it matters what those circumstances were. We began discovering the life of the early piners and miners as we left Strahan Village. I ambled down to the waterfront, digesting my victuals, and launched myself into a radically-modified Landrover Defender.

While my mode of transport might not have matched that of the settlers, I had ground to cover if I was going to get a sense of it all. But then the strangest thing happened. This car suddenly wasn’t. It was there, but it wasn’t a car. It was a train! Like Clark Kent ducking into a nearby phonebooth, our driver effected an even more radical makeover and we set off up the track.

It’s an awkward trip, in some ways. You marvel at the ingenuity and bravery of the souls who first came this way, but the echo of their presence has torn some coarse scars into the landscape. This is a balancing act that will always feel out of kilter to one group or another. There are political views surrounding logging and mining that cannot be reconciled, so I can only distil the obvious truth: the men and women who worked here must have been desperate, determined or plain mad. In truth there was probably a combination of factors.

I’m not sure if there is a correct term for the act of taking a road car of a train track. If there is, it’s not in common usage, you’ll no doubt be surprised to learn. We de-tracked, that’ll do for now.

The next stage of the trip took us through the mountains and valleys that were home to the copper, zinc and tin miners of the 19th and early 20th centuries. Steep, exposed and bitterly windblown, this is not the natural environment of our species. At the base of the peaks lies the Bird River and here was the track that would lake us to Pillinger, the one-time commercial hub of Macquarie Harbour. It’s a pleasant enough walk these days. Our guides explained how the track came to be, and its role in maintaining the one-time community. But while we were laden down with picnics hampers and cameras, the original speculators carried their lives through this forest. I was sufficiently unsteady in several stretches that I could not imagine lugging my worldly possessions along as well. What about the kids, or the wife in her many-layered dresses?

Pillinger is a town’s cadaver, slowly being re-consumed by the encroaching bush. The boilers have nearly rusted through, and exposed cement shows clearly that bricks have recently fallen from the aging walls of the forgotten buildings. It would have taken a community of purpose to create a thriving town here. Desperately isolated, I still can’t fathom the desire that motivated the pioneers.

But as I said, it eventually proved to much even for the committed mine owners and prosperous tree-fellers. They simply melted back into the wider world.

I’ve heard another story like this. In fact I hear it every year. It’s a tale of brave Australians who were determined to succeed in the face of impossible odds and who, when defeat came, remained stout and proud. Their legacy changed our country as too did these early colonial settlers. They were our Anzacs who fought to tame the world at large, while others fought to tame our land.

So what then of the combatants, what then of the piners and miners. While the walls they built on the shores of Macquarie Harbour may be crumbling into memory, they and their kind remain the foundation stones of our modern nation.

Ed

King Island

King Island was a fantastic experience. It must be said, one of its greatest assets has to be the people. Real salt of the earth. And their quality of life is certainly something to envy. Possibly the cleanest air and water anywhere in the world, not to mention the beautiful food & wine that King Island is so famous for.

Another highlight for me was certainly the wildlife, which included the wallabies & majestic sea eagles.

And what would a visit to King Island be without a day at the races. And picking that winner was certainly a bonus! Some would say beginner’s luck…
But all in all, the experience was one I’ll remember for a long time. The only thing that was missing during my first trip to King Island was a few more days to explore this truly remote little gem to the north west of Tassie. A definite must see!

Jack

Tasman Island Cruises

Let’s be honest about it. Seals can’t smell.

I don’t care what they say the textbooks about seals using a profound capacity for sensory manipulation, no animal can stink this bad and not know it.

Although that said, I’ve been trekking with Jack Campbell.

There’s several major seal colonies around Tasmania, and I’ve been lucky enough to visit a few. But this is not the kind of experience that replicates itself: every visit is unique. This is part because of the trip that gets you there and the people you meet along the way, but it’s also a function of the nature of the colonies.

Tasman Island is about an hour’s boat ride south of Eaglehawk Neck on Tasmania’s southern east coast. It’s a stretch of land most famous for the Port Arthur historical site, but there’s plenty more on offer here. Wineries, farm tours, dive charters and, of course, some pretty extraordinary seafood courtesy of the fishing fleet based at the Neck.

But this tour is not all about the fur seals, as impressive as they are. This is a three hour eye opener that lets you come to terms with you own insignificance. You may think that the in-laws can do that in less time, but it lacks the romance, believe me.

Just south of Eaglehawk Neck is a rock formation that simply shouldn’t be there: Tasman’s Arch. It will, in the course of time, eventually fall to the sea, but it’s precariously balanced current state is something to behold. 50 metres high and 25 metres wide, this giant natural rock structure belongs in a sculpture museum. Although, some might argue that the entire peninsula is just a very large museum.

The most disconcerting part of the arch, as we float in, are the giant boulders littering the sides of this open cave. It’s not hard to match their forms to gaping holes in the ceiling above and realise where they came from. Every shudder and creak seems to announce an impending cascade of rock. But it doesn’t come. This arch has a few years left in her yet.

The caves continue most of the way down southwards, many of which we are able to drive into. By the way, let me put this into context. Imagine trying to reverse park a Volvo big rig up a slippery dip set on a rocking horse. That’s the skill set needed to manoeuvre the 60 seat boat in a 2 metre wind-assisted swell up the narrow channel of a sea cave. Brain surgery, that’s nothing. Try driving this boat!

There’s plenty more to see. Falcons, sea eagles, dolphins, whales, shearwaters. You name it, they’re all there. But this is one stretch of coast where the geology outplays the wildlife. Don’t get me wrong I love dolphins, they’re delicious - just kidding – but when you’re looking at some of the world’s tallest sea cliffs and you come to realise that your place in the world is smaller than Anthony Robbins would have you imagine, everything else kind of drifts into the background.

I had my moment with a seal, though. He’d swum up beside the boat to see what was happening, and I tried my best dog bark to say hello. The seal kind of stopped swimming for a second or two, looked deep into my eyes, and then shook his head. Dead true. His face seemed to ay ‘you idiot!’.

I’ve been heckled before, but this was a first. It was patently obvious that this was their stage, and no pretenders would be tolerated. From now on, I’m happy to be in the audience.

Ed

Beerfest

What red blooded Aussie beer drinker wouldn’t want to explore the many great beers that Tassie has to offer? And if you’re like me and partake of the odd tipple, then you’re going to feel at home at Tasmania’s Beerfest. One of the highlights for me was meeting Dr Chuck Hahn, and learning about the science that goes into producing a good beer. Garnish with great music, delish food, fun people….what more does one need? See you next year at Beerfest Tasmania, where I’ve heard on good authority the first shout is on Ed. [official lie!]

Jack

Corinna Wilderness Experience

One of the hard things about my job (if you can believe that there are any) is having to not play favourites. You see, in travelling the length and breadth of Tasmania I get to see and sample the best of what there is. And this is a heap of fun, as you might imagine. But there’s a golden rule, you have to tell each story equally, celebrate each destination and never openly prefer one place over another.

But just occasionally I go somewhere that really stops me in my tracks. Somewhere I not only want to stay and explore, but a place that triggers a thought in the back of my mind: I could live here.

Maybe not today, not with everything that’s going on in my life, but down the track? Absolutely.

I guess Corinna appeals to the Grizzly Adams part of my personality. I spend so much of my life working in the full gaze of television cameras and crowds that the concept of isolation has a special appeal. I’ll accept that this is at least part of the reason Corinna tugged at me. But to reduce my fascination to pure psychology would be unjust to the place itself.

Corinna today is the remnant of past industry. Mining, some fishing, some timber. But that has gone. Now it’s all about tourism. And they come and come.

It’s a big drive, about four hours from Launceston, much of it on remote mountain gravel roads, and through winding forest tracks. But you don’t get splendid untouched beauty without making a place a little inaccessible. Oh, and forget the phone, there’s no mobile reception. Another big plus in my books!

The hotel in Corinna is perched on the banks of the Pieman River, named after one of the early convict-era pioneers. It flows endlessly, rich chocolate coloured. The river’s not dirty, in fact you could drink it. But with so much wilderness around, the tannins from fallen trees stain the water like tea. Nonetheless, it’s full of trout. Simply cast in a line from the FatMan barge and see what I mean. Dinner isn’t hard to find.

The barge crosses regularly, linking the Western Explorer road down to Zeehan and Strahan in the south. So, in a sense, Corinna remains a staging post on the wild west coast, much a it has been for over a century.

But if you’ve parked yourself in town for a night you get to have possibly the best day trip in all of Tasmania. Get up early and set out on the sunrise trip aboard the MV Arcadia. This boat is perfect for Corinna. Recently restored, it’s an original timber ferry linking Corinna to the coast. It’s history includes service in Hobart during WWII as a coast guard vessel amongst others, but its best work to date is done on the Pieman.

The mists barely rise, they seem to engulf the boat as we drift downstream. The sun may have started to rise, but it’s hard to be certain. In the depths of a reverent silence punctuated only by the nonchalant putter of the Arcadia’s engine, you can finally forget where you have com from, ignore where you are going and become a part of the moment.

And that is why I loved Corinna.

I’ll be back, and I’ll bring the kids for sure. There’s heaps for them. AWD tours, fishing, canoeing, exploring. It’s a great place for a holiday. A new home? Maybe. Let’s see what the next year brings.

Ed
fast-ed.com.au

Woolnorth Tours

I gotta say, Woolnorth as well as being one of the most fascinating & beautiful places I visited in Tasmania, it’s probably the windiest. Which makes it the ideal place to situate 62 generators, over two sites that produce around 10% of Tasmania’s electricity. As well as the wind turbines, must sees are Cookhouse Cottage & the Baseline Air Pollution Station, situated on the cliffs of the Cape Grim coastline, where the great Southern ocean collides with Bass Strait. And here’s an interesting tit bit, did you know that the last 4 Tasmanian Tigers captured at Woolnorth were sent to the Beaumauris Zoo in Hobart? Make sure you put Woolnorth on your next Tassie travel itinerary.

Jack

Cradle Country Adventures

Unlike Ed, the Cradle Country Adventures story was my first opportunity to see the iconic Cradle Mountain.

It is truly spectacular, reinforcing the fact that one of the best things about Tasmania, besides it’s food, wine, people, hospitality & beer [had to get that in], is it’s incredible landscape and wild terrain, and Cradle Mountain is no exception. And to witness this in what I can best describe as nostalgically on horse back, and later quad bikes, make for a unique & fun way to see it. Plus It was worth it just to see Ed’s horsemanship.

I felt on top of the world. Leonardo eat your heart out!!

Jack

Red Tag Trout Tours

Trout fishing was something that I’d always been fascinated with, but never had the opportunity to do. I was stoked when told I’d be fly fishing with Roger Butler from Red Tag.

Now, call it beginners luck if you like, but fortunately for me they were biting that day. I caught two beautiful healthy trout in about twenty minutes. It was the quintessential Tasmanian experience, out in the fresh air, the crisp clear waters of the lake lapping at my feet & a wedge tailed eagle keeping an eye on us high above the lakes.

This was a day I’ll remember for a long time. And what a beautiful spot - Currawong Lakes, just out of Campbell Town. If you’re into fishing, a Red Tag Trout Tour is an absolute must do when cruising through Tassie. Loved it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jack

Tahune Airwalk and Eagle Hang Gliding

I’m pretty comfortable being a land-based mammal. All things considered it’s one of the easiest ways to get to the top of your relevant food chain. Now, if I had to choose an alternate biological platform, I reckon water-based mammal might be the go.

Dolphins have a great life. There’s not too many things that predate on them (other than the occasional shark) and they seem to know how to have fun. What more, they live in some of the most beautiful places on earth.

But that’s thing, isn’t it. Our human capacity for innovation has meant we can develop underwater breathing equipment. As such we are able to compare the world of the sea with the land we know and say, with confidence, that the sea is beautiful. But how would a dolphin be able to make any such conclusion. There’s no point of reference. All he knows is the water. I mean one bay might be a whole lot nicer than others, but the scale is marginal at best, I would have thought.

On second thoughts, this all probably hinges on the idea that animals have a sense of beauty, and I’m not sure there evidence of that. It’s one thing to see a bull sidle up to a cow and say “Mooo, nice udders baby!”, but it’s a whole other scenario to conclude that this same bull might possess a reverent appreciation of undulating hills and golden light shining through a morning fog.

But even we humans have limitations in our ability to appreciate beauty. We walk, swim, dive and fly, but when was the last time you saw the world from the treetops. It really is an entirely novel way to understand the world.

For this experience you need to head south-west of Hobart. It’s an hour’s drive to the Tahune Airwalk near Geeveston. I wasn’t expecting too much, really. I had been told it was a forest walk, with some elevated bits. That’s cool, but not entirely original. Maybe that’s the secret to marketing: completely undersell the product so the impact of delivery is amplified.

The track extends more than half a kilometre, much of it more than 30 metres above the ground. It’s not like flying, it’s far more intriguing than that. It’s like being a bird for a couple of hours. This is where they live. The trees are different this high up. They’re finer and more floral, and as such they’re highly perfumed.

The view extends, but not especially far. You’re still surrounded by the growth on all sides. If you close you eyes and imagine for just a minute, you could easily be flittering from branch to branch searching for food and shelter. And here in the ancient forest at Tahune, there’s plenty of each to be had.

At the end of the track you come to a cantilevered outpost hanging 60m above the junction of the Tahune and Picton rivers. It’s a slightly unnerving point, given that this structure needs to wobble a little as a function of its engineering. But it is here that you finally understand why a bird wants to fly. The forest opens up and you can see all the way across to the mountains in the distance. Trout are jumping in the stream below, and butterflies are everywhere, like mobile snacks!

If this isn’t enough to explain ornithological attraction to you, then head around the corner to Eagle Hang Gliding. It’s pretty simple, really. You get strapped into a hang glider that is in turn strapped to a cable. You are dragged backwards up over a river until you’re half a kilometre from where you started, both across and up!

Then you fall.

But the wings come into their own and you become a bird, drifting and gliding down through the forest. The view opens up to take in the river and before you realise you’re back on the ground.

I loved it, really I did, and the Airwalk is a magnificent day out for kids, to get them introduced to the idea of balancing forestry and conservation.

But do I want to be a feathered animal? No, I’d still rather be a dolphin. But coming to know what it is to be a bird has made me a better human.

Ed
fast-ed.com.au

Devil Trek Tours

Devil Trek Tours was a highlight for me. I love motor bikes and riding through the Tassie wilderness with other trail bike enthusiasts was a hell of an experience.

The tracks we took were challenging but we were in safe hand with the boys from Devil Trek. And the final leg up Jacob’s Ladder on Ben Lomond was spectacular, capped off with a couple of frothys at the top, then a good night’s sleep, before we hit the trail again.

I met some great Tasmanians and had an absolute ball. I highly recommend Devil Trek to any motor cycle enthusiast wanting to get off the beaten track.

Jack