Whisky, Art, and Wet Farts - Tasmania part 4

"Oh bugger!" I groaned. Clenching, I rushed from bed to just make the bathroom. An explosion echoed through the room. What the hell had caused this? Was anyone else unwell? Back in bed, the cramps twisted my body.

I lay there, looking across to the side table. Street lights refracting through a myriad of spirit bottles. The mere thought of whisky triggered something. "Here we go again," I thought. This time the explosion was vomit. Exhausted! This had been going on for hours. I knew I couldn’t do the planned ferry ride to the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA). I hoped that it would pass and I could join in later in the morning.

As late morning arrived my tormented innards had started to settle. Walking from the hotel to the ferry berth I was confident that I would survive without incident. The weather was wet, cool, yet not cold. It was refreshing and seemed to help. I couldn’t eat, didn’t even want to trust water.

Carpark at MONA, says a lot about the man who created it!

Aboard the MONA ferry, adorned in outlandish décor I felt warm and secure. I shared the ‘Passion Pit’ area at the front of the boat with just another couple. This was ideal considering the circumstances. The crew had been warned about my late arrival and the condition I might be in. They seemed worried when I decided to order an antipasto platter and latte. Rich foods and dairy, I was certainly living life on the edge, pushing all boundaries.

Feeling queasy, a sensation fizzed in my rectum. Shit! It was here again. I hung on, taking in the view through the misty rain, trying to avoid thoughts of illness. It worked. The sensation passed. We reached MONA and departed, whatever had brought on the illness seemed to be gone.

Some of the art at MONA was to my liking

MONA is a bloody odd place. As the name suggests it is filled with Old and New art. I won’t pass judgement. It’s certainly interesting, some great, some not so. The building is brilliant and the concept unique. Wandering around for hours, I couldn’t help but think we the patrons were also part of the art installation? One exhibit, which I must say wasn’t great at all, had a queue that took 40 minutes to get through … no doubt, we were the art.

It was an interesting day and I’m certainly glad I went to MONA. There’s no doubt it has done amazing things for tourism in Tasmania and especially Hobart but I honestly can’t see myself returning. The ferry trip back to the Hobart foreshore was impressive, now feeling much better I was able to take it all in and see just what an amazing little city it is.

Departing the boat we headed straight for the Lark Distillery. Located in the main area of the town it was a popular place. This could have something to do with the wall of whisky, literally hundreds of whiskies from all over the world and all available for tasting. We took on the task of consuming a few, had dinner then decided on an early night. Tomorrow we would head up, and north.

Damp and humid was the morning that greeted us. It was market day and we were early to Salamanca Place. Enjoying breakfast, we marvelled at how big this market is. Little wonder it was regarded as one of the best in Australia. Fresh produce, unique crafts, and almost every strange item you could think of. A joy for the senses it took us considerable time to walk the length and return of the market. Amazingly, in all the places, I stumbled across Sarah, a friend from Frontier Touring (The Mushroom Group) a long time sponsor of my Long Rides. I know Tasmania is a small place but seriously, Sarah is from the mainland.

We needed to get going, Mount Wellington was the next point of interest. At just under 1,300 metres it is no giant of a mountain yet surprisingly it is one of the tallest in Australia. It is often covered with snow, even in summer. We weren’t so lucky on this day however, the temperature plummeted, rain drizzled, and soon the road to the summit became icy. The 22km ride to the peak was treacherous; visibility was down to just a few metres. We braved the cold and wet to continue on, no doubt wishing we hadn’t taken on this challenge.

Mount Wellington’s summit promised magnificent views, it didn’t deliver. The entire peak was shrouded in mist. The temperature was now below zero (Celsius). Disappointed, not surprised, we turned around and made the decent. At the bottom I realised while Mount Wellington is high, by mainland standards, it is only the 49^th tallest on the island state – I’d need to get back and see some of the others. It is an indication to how flat the mainland of Australia is, the flattest continent on Earth.

The last day in Tasmania. We had to make it to Devonport before nightfall. Just 350km, it shouldn’t be a problem, there was a lot to take in. We headed in roughly a north easterly direction. Seventy kilometres of low, flat farmland to the town of Melton Mowbray. Turning from the main road the first thing you notice is that the town is disappearing, becoming a ghost town. The large hotel being the first victim. Such a pity, it’s a beautiful old building. We couldn’t stay too long.

Thirty kilometres further on we were looking for what is regarded as one of the state’s best distilleries. Just outside the town of Bothwell, amongst green pastures and flowing creeks, is Nant Estate. Approaching from a long dirt track you are greeted by a scene straight from the 1800’s English countryside. Not surprising. The original buildings were constructed in 1821. Convict labour constructed the flour mill (no longer for flour), which is still used to this day and is in the process of the meticulous restoration.

Nant Distillery ... one of Tasmania's highlights

In 2008 Nant began producing whisky and were quickly regarded as one of the finest, so much so that just 4 years later their American Oak Whisky was scored 95.5 out of 100, instantly giving it a worldwide status of a superior product. It still remains one of the top 50 whiskies in the world. I couldn’t resist the tour and tasting. Expecting just the tiniest of samples I thought I’d be ok to continue riding. I was shocked (pleasantly) when I realised the samples were a full 30ml nip. The full gamut of the Nant range warmed from the inside out. I didn’t want to leave this place. Could we please stay?

We had to press on. We were crossing the central high country and a somewhat unknown route. The road was the A5, a main road yet many had told us it could be rough and dangerous in places. It sounded like a perfect challenge.

Reaching the town of Miena, we were greeted with the site of the bitumen A5 becoming a gravel road. It looked to be in great condition, in fact it was, all the way through to Doctors Point. We were able to cruise along at a reasonable speed; for the most part 100kph was easily achieved. I couldn’t work out why this 30km section of a main road was in fact dirt. Skirting the western side of the Great Lake and at an average altitude of around 1100

The central plains, one of Tasmania's magical places

metres perhaps had something to do with it. It was evident from the landscape that this area, in winter, would be under snow. Perhaps the conditions meant it was often damaged by the weather. I didn’t mind. It was great to be on gravel again.

The environment was impressive in a very strange way. Small, scrubby trees were abundant. The land almost had the appearance of some of the higher altitude semi desert areas of South America. I regretted not spending more time exploring this region of Tasmania. I will be back.

Continuing on, we skirted the eastern regions of the Great Western Tiers. Massive gum trees grew in the ancient forests. It was spectacular with amazing scenery. The temptation to pull over on every twist of the road was just too much and in some places quite a challenge. A lifetime could be spent just looking at the one scene, here there were too many to take in at once.

Reaching a highest altitude of almost the 1300 metres, the road soon plummeted down in an ever tightening spiral of turns and twists. It was a dream to ride. Very different to most roads on the mainland. I can’t recall how many times I ran wide in bends, stunned by the beauty of the land around me. Massive trees, huge waterfalls spewing the very essence of life from cliff tops. Surely this wasn’t really Australia.

The trees thinned and the road straightened. Damn! It was all over. I was very tempted to turn around and take on the opposite route. This too would have to wait for next time. We soon reached the town of Deloraine, the point where we would turn left and head directly west, following the Gog Range until a suitable gap could be found, the aptly named Paradise Road. The gap took us back through forests with a small incline, this then opened to the most spectacular view of a waterfall. It seemed to be coming from within the side of the mountain, cascading well below and out of sight … another area that would need to be revisited. Paradise was just a little further up the road. I could see why it was named.

Every closer to Devonport, the towns were taking on more of a northern English / Scottish appeal, with names such as Aberdeen, Forthside, and Sheffield we could’ve been looking at a British map. I guess it was the early settler’s way of keeping a little piece of the home country with them. I had to stop at my birthplaces namesake and have the obligatory photo. Looking at the map I did realise I would need to come back to this area too and have a greater explore. Who could not check out places like; Mole Creek, Promised Land and my favourite, Nowhere Else!

Devonport was the destination, we arrived just on nightfall. No Vacancy signs dominated the streets. It was looking dire, the ferry was leaving at 6am, we didn’t want to sleep in tents. It looked like we would have to, I was resigned with having to pitch the tent on someone’s grass verge to be ready for the ferry first thing in the morning.

Playing innocent we entered the Edgewater Hotel and tried for a room. Laughed at, we put on our best despondent faces and stood around, discussing the possibility of sleeping rough. It worked, the lady on reception quickly started checking a few things, made a phone call and then told us we could have a room that the Spirit of Tasmania crew usually use although, it would be very small. It was perfect.

Outward appearances make the Edgewater look 1960’s Norman Bates. It’s far from, with very clean, modern rooms. The restaurant offers great food and drinks. We ate, we drank, we went to bed early. Our Tasmania adventure was sadly over. It had wetted our appetite, we would be back …

The view of Port Phillip Heads from the Spirit of Tasmania

A postscript to the four part Tasmania adventure is that to get your bike there from the mainland the easiest and most direct way is by the Spirit of Tasmania service. I’d recommend spending a little more and taking the overnight passage (either direction) with a sleeper cabin. It takes between 8 and 10 hours so allows for decent overnight rest and then an early start to exploring. Prices are dependent on the season.