Morning dawned resplendent. The sun rose above the ocean drying the remnants of last night’s rain. The view from the room in the Blue Waters Motel was stunning. I’d like to have spent more time exploring Orford.
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| Blue Waters Motel ... brilliant views |
The bushland within the forest was inspiring, the higher we climbed the more beautiful it became however, like most things in Tasmania the distance wasn’t great and we soon found ourselves on the other side and into farm land. This too had its appeal. We came off the dirt and were soon joining onto the Arthur Highway, one of Tasmania’s main roads. It was an opportunity to refuel, albeit at a service station that was 100% self-serve – you put your card into the bowser, fill your bike, then remove the card. It all seemed a little too much like the future.
The Arthur Highway (A9) took us south, through rolling green hills until we reached a small town called Dunalley, stealing a chance to get something to eat at the local bakery. We were surrounded by the unique view of the swing bridge that allows traffic across a hand built canal, providing a passage for boats to move between two bays. It was here that we were struck by the realisation that this was one of the towns ravaged by the January 2013 bushfires. Sixty five buildings in the town had been destroyed, considerable when you consider the population is only 300. It was a stark realisation just how severe the Australian landscape can be.
The bridge and canal at Dunalley are an engineering marvel; it certainly made scoffing a huge wagon wheel worthwhile. We crossed the isthmus that connects the Forestier and Tasman peninsulas from the rest of Tasmania and headed towards one of the world’s most unique modern historical sites. It came not before a visit to a very unique natural site – the Tessellated Pavement at Eagle Hawk Neck.
Looking from the bikes we could see the rugged and spectacular coastline. Looking over the steep cliff we saw the amazing site of the ‘pavement’. Appearing almost manmade the relatively flat rock surface is broken (or seems to be) into smaller rectangular shapes, all created by the forces of nature. The perfect geometry of the surface was stunning. I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder on the way back to the bikes to make sure that it was real.
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| Tessellated Pavement, a wonder of nature |
A horrified realisation struck me halfway up the path. A group of international tourists were prodding sticks into a hole about the size of a football. Closer inspection revealed they were literally trying to beat an echidna from its burrow. Appalled I was about to step in when they realised that I was watching and abruptly stopped. They walked down the path muttering something; I watched to ensure they were well away. I could no longer see the creature, I hoped it had got away safely.
The Arthur Highway took us into Port Arthur and our accommodation for the night, Stewarts Bay Lodge. Nestled in amongst the natural beauty of Stewarts Bay and surrounding bushland it seemed like a perfect place to base ourselves to explore the history and tyranny of what is now a UNESCO World Heritage site – the Port Arthur Historical Sites.
The site is often referred to as the Port Arthur Convict Settlement, and while this is partly true, the history of the area is much more than that. Originally founded in 1830 as a timber camp its importance quickly grew as the authorities realised how it could benefit the penal colonies. During the 1840’s industry was quickly added to the area, with a convict population of over 1100 being reached.  |
| Port Arthur ... its beauty hides the brutal past |
Buildings were constructed and the area started to resemble a town of sorts. 1848 saw a separate prison begin construction and it was at this time that the form of punishment went from physical to mental, a much crueller form of torture.
Now well established, the population were mostly men who had been transported from other settlements around the colonies, one in five were women, and many were children who had been transported with their parents – by this very nature they would never see freedom.
Although a profitable settlement by the 1860’s many of the convicts were now old and sick, a decline in productivity occurred to the point where the authorities were forced to sell to private enterprise. Upon until this point in 1877, the area was a hive of industrial activity.
Logging was the main concern while numerous satellite industries supported the whole complex. More than 50 large size ships were built in Port Arthur. The last convict was moved from the area in 1877, at its peak the whole complex housed 3500 convicts at once. Conditions at Port Arthur were considered some of the toughest in the whole of the British penal system, it was said that if you were sent to Port Arthur you were considered the worst of the worst. Often these convicts were just trying to survive. |
| Nightfall brings a ghostly feel to Port Arthur |
In 2010, the whole area was awarded World Heritage Listing and with it came hordes of tourists. Yes, there is a need for tourists to maintain and preserve a site such as Port Arthur however, when there’s a large cruise ship anchored just off shore it ruins a little of the mystique. The bellowing, obnoxious demands of swathes of people not interested in the significance of the area but rather just to say they have been there is appalling. Like swarming ants they scurried from one building to the next, snapping a photo, then onto the next building. I was just about to give in when the heavens opened, the rain fell heavily and washed the tourist aspect away. They ran for their buses and tender boats and soon the area was almost void of all life, a cleansing of sorts. It was cold, wet and miserable – the Port Arthur Penal Colony began to shine through. This is what life must’ve been like for most living here … bloody miserable!
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| Island of the Dead ... seemed fitting that a cruise ship was close by. |
Rain continued until nightfall, perfect timing as the ghost tour began. Yes, this was 100% tourist but I’m a sucker for a good ghost tour and it’s the perfect way to learn a lot about the real people of an area without the history book fluff. The tour came with a dinner, a nice touch. The tour took us into areas we hadn’t been during the day adding to the mystic, it made one realise just how tough and cruel a place Port Arthur really was. At the end of it all a lady working the administration reception offered to drive us to our accommodation. A lovely gesture. Only small but again demonstrating the kindness of strangers.
I fell asleep immediately. There were no visitors in the night, not real or in my dreams.
Morning dawned to the most magnificent blue skies and a warmth that would quickly dry the rain of the day before. It bode well. We quickly ate breakfast, the plan being to take in a few sights before we headed to the Tasmanian capital city of Hobart. Packing the bikes I was greeted by a man from Victoria. We chatted about Tasmania and bikes. He was a casual rider and seemed quite envious of what we were all up to. We discussed the merits of different bikes, he quickly realised I currently or previously had owned many and varied machines and not surprisingly he agreed that the BMW F800GS is one of the best all round travelling machines. We parted company, I continued packing.
The morning’s destination was Lime Bay State Reserve on the western side of Norfolk Bay. I was determined to see more ruins. The coal mine historic site.
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| The Coal Mine Convict Settlement ruins, more impressive than Port Arthur. |
Like the larger Port Arthur this site is entrenched in a brutal past. At any one time up to 600 convicts were housed here. If the ‘worst’ in the colonies were sent to Port Arthur then the worst of those were sent to the coal mines. The year 1833 saw coal discovered in the area and by 1839 the first mine in Tasmania was opened here. Buildings had already been built for the 150 prisoners and 29 officers. In many ways it became a fully operational town with a bakery, chapel, surgery and quarters for all of the men living there.
The prisoner’s cells were constructed underground. They were extremely dark and damp. As a further way of punishment those breaking the rules were sentenced to cells even further underground. It must’ve been bloody awful, like Port Arthur the mental punishment
being the worst. The prison mine reached its peak in 1847 when 25 tonnes of coal were being extracted each day by two shifts of eight hours. Amazingly, just a year later the prison was closed due to ‘moral and financial’ reasons.
Today the area is protected for its rich contribution to Tasmanian and Australian historic, scientific, aesthetic, and social values. For me, these ruins are much more impressive than those at Port Arthur, and away from the tourist masses you get a much greater appreciation of the impact that convict (slave) labour had on early European Australian history.
Riding the road to the Lime Bay coal mines I had noticed a sign for a distillery, William McHenry & Sons. A detour had to be made on the way back, after all whisky is one of the things Tasmania is famous for. We found the turn off and took to the dirt. It soon turned into a small one lane track, winding its way through tall gum trees. I couldn’t help think that perhaps we had stumbled across a moonshiner’s camp, it added to the mystic.
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| Wiliam McHenry Distillery, a great place to make whisky ... and gin. |
Pulling up at two large sheds the place seemed deserted. Was it closed? We stood and looked, it seemed odd, a little disconcerting.
"Hey," boomed a voiced. We turned and saw a man walking from the closest shed. "Are you guys lost?"
Perhaps we weren’t supposed to be here. I’m sure the sign on the main road had said ‘open’.
"Ah, sorry," I exclaimed. "We saw an open sign down on the road, I couldn’t give up the chance for a whisky."
"Good man," the man beamed. "Come this way, my name’s John." We introduced ourselves and soon discovered that the distillery wasn’t currently in the process of producing whisky. They only had gin. It wasn’t a disaster, I’ve been known to enjoy a gin or three.
We were taken through the whole gamut of products. It taste like gin I had never experienced before, each one different to the last and yet all completely satisfying. When asked what made this gin so good I was told to get on my bike and follow John up one of the steepest tracks I have ever been on. We wound our way to the top of a mountain. As soon as I was off the bike I was directed to a path in amongst the ferns and there it was, a spring bubbling the clearest of water from well within the mountain. Enriched with minerals from deep within the mountain I was enjoying the purest, sweetest water I had ever had. I felt I had reached spiritual enlightenment by a sacred elixir.
We left the mountain, bikes loaded with the finest gin and continued on to Hobart, vowing to return and sample the whisky and take in one of the workshops.
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| Richmond bridge ... the oldest used bridge in Australia |
Following the waters of Frederick Henry Bay we soon found ourselves in the town of Richmond. Instantly we were transported back to the 1800’s. The buildings, the streets, the atmosphere was all ‘old world’. It was delightful. Famous for the stone arch bridge that more or less sits in the centre of town and is the oldest bridge still in use in Australia. I marvelled at the engineering that keeps such an old and simple construction upright under modern loads. We enjoyed a simple lunch of fresh oysters from a roadside vendor with a German couple we’d befriended the previous day. They were on their way to Melbourne and Victoria, we gave them our details. Sadly, we never heard from them again.
Our last stop before reaching our destination for the day was Sullivan’s Cove Distillery on the outskirts of Hobart. It was perfect timing as the rains had returned and this time seemed set for the day. Sullivan’s Cove, if you enjoy a whisky, is well worth a visit, despite being set in an industrial estate however, be prepared to spend money, lots of money.
Surprisingly, you are given three options of how much you want to spend just for a tasting. This turned me off a little, as it did a small group that had followed us in. They immediately turned around and when elsewhere. I remained, enjoyed a few sips then left with an expensive bottle of Single Cask Whisky. I hate being ripped off and tried to convince myself that it was a small batch and something to be savoured. It was worth it, it was worth it … 
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