Back to the East Coast - to the Seven Mile Beach

Monday, 01/22/2018

All cucumber slices are gone when I wake up at 7:00 am. I quickly get up and head to the shower. There are two buildings, one is about 2-3 minutes walk away, the other one is a bit closer. So, put on shoes, grab a towel, toiletries, car keys, and the key to the laundry room and go. Because there are now about 15 tents here and if they all want to shower, it will eventually turn into queuing. There is one free shower – hurray!

I have breakfast comfortably at my outdoor table. By now I have decided to drive to Hobart to the Seven Mile Beach today. The campground of the camper rental company is located there and since I have to return the car on Friday at 10:00 am and I still want to visit Hobart and see a bit of the Tasman Peninsula, this place is a good base for the remaining experiences.

If I feel like it, I can take a detour to Mt. Field NP on the way to Hobart and have a look around for an hour – but I'm not really keen on that.

After returning the laundry room key at the reception in the Visitor Center, it is already after 10:00 am when I continue east. Just a few kilometers further is "The Wall". A sculptor who works with wood has exhibited finely crafted scenes from Australian life and history in an elongated building here. On wood panels about 4 meters high and probably around 30-40 meters long, you can see completely different things. People, workers, animals. The back offers more of these motifs with even more detailed workmanship. Some are super smooth and recognizable forms. Human faces, hands, folds of a coat – all super plastic and you can hardly believe it is wood. Admission is $15, not expensive, and it is funny that there are several notices hanging here that defiant children (along with their parents) will be immediately removed. Photography is prohibited. The artist (born in 1979) predominantly uses Huon Pine for his work. At the exit, there are still original tools such as a shovel, on which a wooden glove is "placed" on the handle. It really looks like fabric made of wood. Fantastic works!

http://thewalltasmania.com.au/

After the usual winding through sections of forest, my drive soon takes me through the so-called Central Highlands. The landscape is vast and there are no more forests to cross, but lots of lakes on both sides. While taking a photo at one of the lakes, some larger flying insect stings me in the right shoulder from behind. The sting is painful, I still catch the creature, fling it away, but cannot see what it is. So, I first rummage through the first aid kit and apply Soventol. The sting burns like hell and I sit in the camper for 10 minutes applying the cool gel to the hard-to-reach spot that I cannot see.

At some point, I turn off the Lyell Highway to Taraleah, actually a pretty place with a strange past. Originally intended as quarters for the engineers and workers who initially lived in tents and makeshift accommodations while building a hydroelectric power station, for which they had to clear the rainforest first. Reports describe the toughest working conditions, especially in the cold, where tools froze to pipes. This started here already at the end of the 19th century. In the 1930s, wooden houses were built here for the engineers, churches, shops, pubs – the population had a few thousand residents in the 1980s, most of whom lived off the hydroelectric power station. However, due to economic changes, the place was practically depopulated in the 1990s, and in 2003 it was completely bought by an Australian family for 2 million, who restored the village with its 33 art-deco houses and sold it to an investor for around 11 million in 2016.

Today, there are beautiful wooden houses here, a hotel, and you have a view from the mountain station of the hydroelectric power station down to the wild Nive River.

After 20 minutes, I drive out of the town again, which despite everything seems completely empty. You don't see any people or cars – except for the few tourists who, like me, read the history of the place and the construction of this hydroelectric power plant at the viewpoint.

Now I continue east and I notice that the hills here are dry and brown again, the terrain is flatter, and instead of forests, there are fields around me. The curves are easy to drive and not just going up and down mountains.

Hamilton is on the way, a small idyllic place, more like a village.

I see a small café in a wooden house with coarse wooden furniture in the garden on the left. And since it is now around 2:00 pm, and the more relaxed part of the trip is supposed to begin, I spontaneously decide to take a break. Although I want to be at Seven Mile Beach around 4:00/4:30 pm – that's what I discussed with the lady at the campground – but that should still work despite the break.

Hamilton is a small early Victorian village, roasting in the sun. Many old wooden houses stand along the main street, and one of them is this café called Jackson's Emporium.

Inside, it is a quaint place, with a colorful menu on the wall. They offer homemade cakes, homemade ice cream, and fruit from the garden behind the house.

http://www.hamiltonheritageholidayhomes.com.au/Jacksons/Welcome_To_The_Finest_Emporium.html

I treat myself to vanilla ice cream with fresh berries from the garden and a coffee and find it exceptionally cute here. I have three cookies and a piece of cake packed for me and set off again in pretty hot weather.

So far, I have never needed the air conditioning. I always drive with the windows open. That will continue.

I pass more lakes and an exit to Mt. Field. I am tempted to take the detour but after a few hundred meters, I end up behind a bridge in front of a flashing warning sign indicating an extremely winding road and urging to drive carefully. That's it. I'm not in the mood for these curves that I would also have to drive back. I turn around and drive directly to Hobart, where I arrive in the suburbs and the rush hour traffic is already intense. That's something completely new after 2 weeks.

My navigation system does not react quickly enough and instead of crossing the Tasman Bridge, it tells me to make a U-turn. That in fast-flowing traffic with a camper! I stand at the turn and watch the traffic for a good 10 minutes before I make a full-speed turn, driving over 2 lanes in this narrow area. It honks – but I made it and now drive over the bridge towards the city, or rather towards the airport, where the campground is located.

Due to this delay, I arrive at the campground at 4:50 pm and fortunately the lady is still there. They unusually stay open until 6:00 pm. I take site No. 19, pay $35 for 4 nights each – not exactly cheap, but I have electricity and for the rest of my time in Tasmania, so to speak, a home.

http://www.hobartcaravanpark.com.au/

I walk about 7 minutes to the beach of Seven Mile Beach and sit in this huge empty bay for a while watching the evening sun. Occasionally, you can see and hear a plane take off or land, but generally there is not much going on in Hobart and there will be no flight noise in the next few days to disturb me.

I eat something from my fridge, make myself tea, and organize my pictures. I lie down at 10:00 pm and enjoy the thought that tomorrow I don't have to go anywhere and can sleep as long as I want.