Cycle Tour of Tasmania – February 2015

Day 14 - St Helens to Scottsdale - I make it a hat-trick of punctures on our longest day

That's 4,730', a bit like Ben Nevis on a touring bike

Wednesday 18 February.  It would have been an early start but the caterers were pretty slow off the mark so we didn't get away until 8.00. Our panniers were to be carried for us (see yesterday's post) and it's surprisingly tricky to remember to take everything you need on the day - spares, tools and so on. You'd be cross if you had a puncture if your spare inner tubes were in your panniers in a van somewhere (funny I should say that... read on!)

Mounted on our super-light bikes (!) we left through St Helens's suburbs, soon after which Richard was stopped, looking up at a large bird in a tree to the left, which turned out to be our best sighting of a Wedge-tailed Eagle.

The Wedge-tailed Eagle

Just before Pyengana we came across an Echidna, which Tony and Deborah had seen crossing the road. What I find puzzling is that we normally spotted Echidnas this way - crossing the road - and yet I never saw a single road-kill. Whereas I never saw a wallaby or a possum crossing the road, and there were lots and lots of them sprawled out, lifeless, on the tarmac. An enigma.

During coffee and Kit-Kat at the Pyengana filling station / cafe, I noticed a wooden plaque to the fallen of the two World Wars and was struck by the fact that of the eleven names there were only two surnames - Dobson and Nichols, simultaneously suggesting that this must have been a very tight-knit community and demonstrating the dreadful consequences of conflicts on the other side of the world.

Big ferns (2 metres high)

It began to drizzle as we left, and in fact it rained all the way up the day's longest climb, as we went from just above sea-level to an altitude of 600 m (nearly 2,000'). Along the way were lots of enormous ferns, like bracken on steroids, making you wonder whether you've stepped back in time to the Carboniferous era or earlier.  With a sense of recurring deja vu I noticed my front tyre deflating for the third day in a row, and at the top, where Irene was waiting for Steve and getting very cold, I pumped it up and carried on downhill for a while, into a drier and slightly warmer environment.

Luckily I'd borrowed a spare tube from Tony and stopped to fit it, concluding that my spare from yesterday was probably too small a section. To be honest, I'd probably been a bit blase when packing my spares, because I never get punctures. Now it was becoming a daily chore! Happily it would prove to be the last one (puncture, that is, not inner tube).

Not the pub, just a photogenic old shed!

Not long afterwards we came to a proper pub, at Weldborough. I say a proper pub, but it didn't have a proper welcome. Stopping for a coffee with Steve and Irene, we found the landlady to be cold and severe, and when I asked if I could eat some of my own food she relented only if I went outside with it. Well, I thought, I can eat my own food outside anywhere I like, so I won't be doing it outside your cold pub.

As we were leaving, she lit the fire.

Derby

Lovely house converted from the old town bank

By Derby (pronounced 'Durby' the sun had come out and all was lovely and warm again. More coffee, this time with carrot cake, at the 'Arts' cafe, where there were lots of paintings and other cultural stuff on exhibition everywhere.  Leaving this small town it appeared as though the route would be nice and gentle, but then it started to undulate until a big climb hove into sight - 345 m of Billycock Hill.

Stopping for a brief rest I was watching a bird in the trees which looked unfamiliar. I took some photos but they were against the light, and it was only when I brought them up on the computer and lightened them up that I realised that this was another new bird for me - a Black-faced Cuckoo Shrike.

Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike

Finally, a gut-wrenching climb just before Scottsdale, where I got on to Irene's back wheel as she 'towed' me up to the top, only for us to see a long descent and an equally horrendous second hill to the town itself. I went in front expecting to return the compliment but Irene dropped off on the downhill: for some reason I got stick from John later on, who said I was being un-gallant, but I did my best honest, Irene!

I arrived at the hotel in a state of complete knackeredness, to find that the bags had all been left around the back, but mine weren't there. After a brief panic it turned out that Ken had taken mine, thinking we'd be room-sharing when in fact we all had our own individual (tiny) single room. Ken was relieved as he wasn't sure how he was going to swing a cat.

Another early dinner and early night. Tomorrow we head west for Launceston, Tasmania's second city. 61 miles today, grand total so far 496.

Cycle Tour of Tasmania – February 2015

Day 13 - Bicheno to St Helens - A good soaking and another puncture thrown in for good measure

Dennis, the Tasmanian Devil. Or is it Duncan...?

Tuesday 17 February.  Not quite a queue for the bathroom but with four sharing our room it came close! Breakfast was served in the room, but before you get excited we're talking cereals and milk, plus toast. A quick inventory revealed that I still haven't bothered my spare top, spare shorts, longs or long-sleeved top, so perhaps there's scope to cut out even more weight next time!

The day started grey, and before we set off it began to drizzle, so I put on arm- and leg-warmers, a waterproof top, and to everyone else's intense amusement, Tesco plastic carrier bags over my socks and inside my shoes. With non-waterproof shoes these can keep the water out for some time. But not for an entire day.

Off we all set, into the drizzle. Within 10 minutes or so we came upon the Natureworld Wildlife Park. There were mixed feelings as to whether to visit, but I was keen (I thought it might stop raining whilst we were there, haha!) so I quickly went in and asked whether they would do a group discount. Straight away I got a reduction from $24 to $20 but even that wasn't enough to persuade the majority, so in the end only five of us stayed (still at $20) - me, Ken, Valerie, Tony and Deborah, while the rest soldiered on.

Deborah makes a new friend

The rather odd Cape Barren Goose - a distant relative of other geese, despite its similar appearance

Magpie Goose

Rod Hull

They missed a real treat - an excellent wildlife park, with lots of Eastern Grey Kangaroos (all wondering what I'd got in my plastic bag, expecting it to be food. I can't remember what it was now, but I do know what it wasn't, and that's Kangaroo food). There was a Wombat, Bennett's Wallabies, Pademelons, lots of birds, some loose like the Cape Barren Geese, others in aviaries including Cockatoos, parakeets, doves and pheasants. There were snakes, an emu, and a magpie goose, but the highlight was to be feeding the Tasmanian Devils at 10 am.

There had to be a Joey somewhere

Lowland Copperheads - venomous, potentially fatal

Lady Amherst's Pheasan

The two Devils, imaginatively named Dennis and Duncan, were adolescent males, almost full grown. 34 teeth, all functioning incisors, and a bite strength stronger, pound for pound, than any other animal known to man, including the Great White Shark. They will eat anything, but seem to be particularly fond of Wallabies and road kill that absolutely stinks. Once they get their teeth into something they do not let go. Ever. They can eat a third of their bodyweight in one meal, which is like you or me eating a 50 lb steak in one go. Make that medium rare for me. They are marsupials, giving birth to around a dozen pea-sized young, which make their way to the pouch (or marsupium, to use its scientific name) where there are only four teats. The first four to grab a place are assured of shelter and sustenance. The rest perish. I was tempted to say a bit like estate agency but perhaps not!

He ain't gonna let go ever - until he's eaten this delicious portion of possum tail

After we'd seen everything and had a coffee, we set off again, almost two hours behind the others, into drizzle which got steadily worse and worse. Then my front tyre punctured again! We pulled in and noticed that we were being watched by a nearby Wallaby. It appears that yesterday's replacement inner tube, which had been repaired, decided to attach itself to the inside of the tyre via some of the patch adhesive, so it was on with my last spare and get going again.

Still grey at Scamander

On the next section the drizzle turned to torrential rain, bouncing off the road. Hence no photos of this bit, as I'm not good at photography when I'm getting a good soaking. At Scamander we stopped at a filling station / cafe and had sandwiches, custard tarts and coffee, and as we were about to set off the rain cleared away, giving us a pleasant final run in to St Helens where we soon found the Bayside Inn.

The marina at St Helens. Not exactly Monte Carlo

HOLD THE FRONT PAGE! Another big scoop for the St Helens Examiner 

To say it's the biggest town on the North-East coast, there isn't an awful lot to St Helens, and I reckon it has the world's smallest marina. The hotel restaurant started serving dinner at 6 pm, and it was like the opening day of the January sales - everyone, it seems, wanted their dinner as soon as possible. I was feeling a bit under the weather, which wasn't helped by the biggest helping of chicken linguine I've ever seen. I almost needed a porter's trolley to get it from the serving hatch to the table, and much of it remained uneaten.

Just one more James Boag's draught...

During the meal we were entertained by several young Japanese children who were in turn entertaining themselves with one of those arcade machines with the crane and grab handle, the prizes being chocolate bars. They managed to accumulate quite a stash, but at what cost I shudder to think.

L to R - John H, Richard, Helen. Should we have a caption competition? Submit your suggestions and I'll publish the best ones (or all of them)

So ended our wettest day, with another 47 miles on the clock, 435 altogether.

We were concerned about the longest day - tomorrow - to Scottsdale, with some serious climbing on the way. With this in mind, when Richard got to the hotel in St Helens he set about trying to arrange for our panniers to be carried so that we could travel light. And so it was that the post man agreed to take them about half way, then put them on the bus for the rest of the way, at a total of $2 (about £1) per bag. Everyone was very happy with his efforts!

Cycle Tour of Tasmania – February 2015

Day 12 - Triabunna to Bicheno. I get a talking-to from the Police and we find a real Penguin!

Bicheno

Monday 16 February.  As you may recall, the bar closed at 7 pm yesterday evening. Despite the fact that the Tandar is a motel, it turns out they don't do breakfast either. So we returned en masse to the eat-in takeaway, which suited most, although as they only did a cooked breakfast I wasn't too keen. Then I made the mistake of ordering sausage and ended up being the last one to be served for the second time in under 24 hours.

Opposite the Take-away. Somebody needs to get out more

Not far from Triabunna

At the entrance to a walking holiday centre. Perhaps these belonged to the naughty visitors

I set off (last) with Tony and Deborah, the day looking promising with a broken sky and following breeze. Once again I stopped several times to look at birds (Eastern Rosella, Scarlet Robin, Noisy Miner, Kookaburra) and then, after 16 miles, I got a front puncture. I don't get punctures very often but it was just after I'd stood up out of the saddle to give my bum a rest, and the front wheel had dropped off the edge of the tarmac. Whether that caused the flat, or whether a flat caused the wobble, I'm not sure.

Scarlet Robin

Eastern Rosella

Noisy Miner

By the time I'd changed the inner tube (it only took five or ten minutes) I must have been well behind everyone, but I reckoned I'd catch up in Swansea (which came after the junction to Pontypool). Thinking Richard might be worried, I sent him a text, which he read after I'd told him about it!

Swansea

The road now ran close to the sea and was very scenic, then led to Swansea, where everyone had found a decent cafe for a spot of lunch. A flat white, a banana and a citrus tart later and I was off again, along with John, Valerie and Ken. The weather was warm and sunny with a gentle tailwind. A Swamp Harrier attracted my attention, as did a freshly road-killed possum.

What you can't see (or hear) are all the singing frogs

Another of Richard's minor detours took us on to a side road which crossed a medium sized stream on a concrete bridge which was only a few inches above water level. It occurred to me that if it had rained much more two days ago we'd be turning back to the main road at this point! I stopped under a tree to renew my suncream as it was really sunny (and also to have a delicious cherry-coconut-chocolate bar, then, back on the main road, the road kicked uphill for a long climb.

At one point a stream ran close to the road on the left and I heard a loud splash as I got near, but didn't get to see what had caused it, sadly. Over the top there was a great viewpoint on the descent overlooking Oyster Bay and some vineyards. I spoke to a young man who'd just arrived in Tassie on the overnight plane from Perth, and was on his way to do a wilderness walk in the Freycinet National Park.

Soon afterwards I was overtaken by a Police car which stopped just in front of me. The Officer got out and waved me to stop, then in a friendly kind of way told me that drivers had 'complained' that there were two groups of cyclists on the road and that they had 'come across them just around bends'. I resisted the urge to suggest that as we weren't doing anything wrong, complaints was a bit of a strong word: he seemed friendly enough and he just asked me to ensure that everyone in our group was cycling safely (which I knew they would be anyway) and we parted on very friendly terms. But I couldn't help wondering what kind of driver would actually report to police the fact that there are cyclists on the road. Blimey, there'll be walkers on footpaths next!

I've just remembered - the biggest irony was that there are signs on that stretch of road warning motorists to 'Expect the Unexpected' around the next bend!

The Pondering Frog Ice Cream cafe. I think they're looking for a house-sitter next June - if you're interested go to http://ponderingfrog.com.au/contact/ 

Soon after was the best ice-cream stop ever - the Pondering Frog - in just the right place and with the most unbelievably delicious ice-cream. Some of the Canadian cycling group were there so I told them that the Police had told me that they were the troublemakers!

The last few miles to Bicheno were into quite a headwind, which slowed things around. At the Wintersun Motel we found that four of us had to share one room, which was a bit tight. Richard got the camp bed, and drying clothes would have been a problem had it not been for (a) the dry weather and (b) a rotary clothes line in the garden.

The laundry met with Val's approval this time

I couldn't resist a photo of this

After an evening meal at the Sea Life Centre restaurant we walked back in the gloaming along the rocky beach (great big slabs of granite, getting trickier to negotiate as it got darker) and then found ourselves at a Penguin nesting site. These are Little Penguins: you could hear the chicks in the burrows at the top of the beach (and under the edges of the nearby car park) calling for their parents to hurry up and feed them. But mum and dad were, in most cases, reluctant to come ashore until it was later and darker. We waited, seeing nothing for a while, then as we decided to leave, Tony and Deborah found an adult bird hiding in some bushes right next to the path - so we got to see a real Little Penguin at last.

Little Penguin (courtesy of Google Images)

An eventful day. 59 miles, running total 389 miles.

Cycle Tour of Tasmania – February 2015

Day 11 - Hobart to Triabunna with a proper cafe stop on the way!

Sunday 15 February.  Having replaced the sheared bolt yesterday there were - hopefully - no worries about seat post collapse. As we were about to start, Sue discovered that one of her tyres was flat, so there was a short delay whilst husband John fixed it. We made our way back to the Tasman Bridge, along Bathurst Street and some off-road cycle paths, and this time Irene went last and walked over again. Not only is the bridge cycle 'path' narrow, it has a 3 cm wide groove along the right hand edge, which could catch a tyre and throw a rider of the bike, and there are projecting bits of structure which, if you're not paying attention, will take your shoulder off! Definitely not impressed.

We all waited on the far side in a little suburban avenue, then found our way out of town along a surprisingly hilly route which soon passed under the Tasmanian Highway before we turned left on to the Coal Valley 'Vineyard' Tourist Route. This turned out to be one of the busiest roads so far.

Waiting for my elevenses

At Richmond there was an excellent cafe serving Devonshire Teas (TWO scones with all the trimmings). I went for buttered toast and a strawberry & custard tart plus a coffee. Time went by as we sat outside enjoying the sunshine. Everyone else had been served. I enquired about my order, and it seemed that they'd given it to someone else, so would bring another straight away. More time passed, so I went to enquire again, and they'd done the same thing by serving it to a complete stranger inside the cafe! I was beginning to suffer from paranoia, when finally it arrived. All taken in good humour of course. Grr.

It's coming! Wait for me!

Despite the number of vineyards the scenery up until now had seemed more British than on previous days, and this continued after Richmond. We passed a Go-Kart track with a race in progress, though viewing opportunities were limited.

Once on the A3 I quickly turned left as per Richard's instructions on to a 4 km stretch of old road. I could see that the riders in front (including Richard!) had overlooked it and continued on the main road. I was hoping to see some wildlife on this quiet stretch, but was disappointed as there wasn't much apart from fallen trees which almost blocked the road at times.

Back on the A3 the road curved upwards in a long climb up to 315 m or so. We came across other cyclists doing the same route - almost a new experience in Tasmania. It turned out that some were on another organised tour: several were Canadian. They had a support vehicle with spare bikes, food and all their luggage, so I couldn't decide whether to feel superior or just jealous.

This photo for Val, who was born in Downham (Lancashire)

The climb was followed by a short descent and then a long level section into a strong headwind. Steve, who usually climbed a bit slower than me, came past at this point so I draughted him for a few miles to get a bit of a rest.

Another serious ascent followed, up to over 350 m, followed by a long, gentle descent, through Buckland (which consisted of nothing more than a filling station / cafe / store. The lady serving had a great sense of humour, ribbing me mercilessly for my pronunciation of 'mug', which she mimicked quite well.

The River Prosser's in there on the left somewhere

The bridge at Orford

23 km to go, some downs, some ups, but always into that grinding headwind. Really interesting scenery as we reached the River Prosser, which seemed to disappear into a deep gorge, reappear as a wide, lazy river, then there was a large weir, before we arrived at Orford, where the river was crossed by a long bridge.  Two of the other cycling group passed me as I was taking a photo, and in about 3 km I'd re-caught them and their two companions despite my burden of panniers. Suitably inspired, I went on to catch Helen and Ken before we finally arrived at Triabunna and the Tandar Motel.

Never a good sign when the cemetery is so near the Medical Centre. Triabunna

The rooms were luxurious - a large double bed each and lots of space - but the bar closed at 7 pm and there were no evening meals. We found a 'take-away' where, despite its title, you could eat in, whilst others went for the local fish & chips. It seemed an incredibly sleepy place during what I would have thought was the late part of the tourist season - quite odd. When I asked the bar manager why they closed at 7 pm he replied that none of the locals visit the bar after that time. Well they wouldn't, would they, if they know that's when he closes!  All very odd.

Quite a hard day - 57 miles, making a running total of 330.

Cycle Tour of Tasmania – February 2015

Day 10 - Hobart in the rain

Lots of colonial-style buildings in the state capital

Saturday 14 February was scheduled as a 'rest day' to explore Hobart, and with perfect timing it rained most of the day. At least there would be opportunities to shelter, which you don't get whilst out on the bike.

Salamanca market is a big open air affair down near the harbour. Hundreds of stalls selling lots of things from unashamed rubbish to nicely crafted jewellery, lots of handicrafts, art, food of all sorts, plus entertainment in the form of a live band or two and a couple of buskers. I had a wander round but to be honest, open air markets aren't the kind of thing to float my boat. What was more interesting was the collection of vintage and 'special interest' cars in the adjacent park. Not many, but the red MG 1300 reminded me of John Cleese manically thrashing the bonnet of a similar car during an episode of Fawlty Towers; the Alvis with its straight-6 engine had me wondering how anyone managed to balance all three SU carburettors, and the JPS Lotus Europa was just sublime.

For our younger readers, this is the MG1300...

...and this is the Lotus Europa. No prizes for guessing which one I prefer

Beaujangles Cafe in the central arcade was ideal for a light lunch, then off to the Tasmania Museum for an afternoon shelter from the rain. Helen was there and recommended it highly. Lots of natural history displays, including a room about the extinct (or is it?) Tasmanian Tiger, known as the Thylacine. I also liked the architectural work around the entrance and staircase.

Lovely designs

The Thylacine is thought to have been extinct for decades, but some folks aren't convinced

Then a gentle amble around the port...

Old...

...new

Rhapsody of the Seas in Hobart Harbour

I got back and fitted my shiny new seat bolt to the bike. Our evening meal was problematical again, as tonight was Valentines Day (yes, I DID send some flowers to Val. Virtual flowers I know, but that way I could send more and they were in better condition when they arrived). We managed to find a table for four (me, Richard, John H and Valerie) at a nearby Italian restaurant which was very good.

(Was it here, or somewhere else, where I saw an advertising sign which read "SPECIAL OFFER - 20% off your meal price on Valentine's Day! 4 persons minimum." Kinda defeats the object, don't you think?)

I'm a hopeless romantic. These are the flowers I sent to Val. ALL of them. Via my iPhone ;-)

Tomorrow we turn north and head up the east coast to Triabunna.

PS To avoid any confusion, Valerie on the cycle tour is not the same person as my good lady wife Val, who bravely stayed at home during my three-week sojourn to the Antipodes. Just in case you were wondering.