POIGNANT PORT SORELL

Hawley Beach

Hi there, I’m sorry but you are in for a little bit of retrospective writing this time.  We are now well and truly back on the mainland but I have a little unfinished business, so to speak, with the Tasmanian story.

Firstly, the beautiful little town of Port Sorell – this was our last hoorah in the Apple Isle and we were somewhat unsettled while we were there, sort of kicking around a bit aimlessly before boarding the Spirit to return to the mainland, or as the Taswegians like to call it “The North Island”.

We had lots of time to reflect on our southern stay and I have to say, neither of us was really all that keen to leave.  Now that we have been back on the mainland for a couple of weeks, we can only say that we miss the place considerably.

Anyway, I digress – Port Sorell and surrounds was delightful.  The caravan park was spacious to say the least, seemingly frantically busy in the summer months and delightfully available during the colder months.  Having said that, we did have the company of several Tasmanian couples, all of whom travel around the island during the winter months.  Port Sorell adjoins another small town called Hawley Beach, this sits right on the mouth of the Mersey River and Bass Straight.  The weather while we were there was mixed, but mostly presented as very still days which gave rise to more of the amazing reflective quality of the Tasmanian waters.

Stunning in its Simplicity

Property prices there were a little higher than we had seen elsewhere on the island and there was a big new development there sporting fairly ugly new homes (only ugly to us I suspect), shopping centres and medical complexes.  It seems that many folk live there and commute to Devonport for work.  It had in our humble opinion spoiled what must have been a pretty and quiet corner before the mighty dollar came to live there.

While we waited for our ship to come in, so to speak, we took several drives around the surrounding countryside.  One of these trips took us to the quaint and pretty little town of Latrobe.  The town was pretty in the extreme and just full of old and historically flavoured buildings.  The Cherry Cafe was a must visit for a cherry lover like myself – this establishment sold all things cherry – jams, chutneys, relishes, wines, pickles, liqueurs and all manner of ‘stuff’ decorated with cherries.  This is when being in a caravan is a downer (albeit economically positive) as I just couldn’t buy any of the beautiful big glass cherries they sold there.  Damn!  I imagine, DD however, is pretty pleased that I was unable to scratch that particular itch.  We did of course, taste test the cherry ice-cream while we were there – now that was very good.

We took a nostalgic drive into Devonport to purchase a jump start battery pack which DD deemed we needed as the old one refuses to charge – it seemed tho’ the lad decided the prices were unsuitable for his wallet and we had a nice visit there but returned empty handed. 

The countryside in that region was some of the prettiest we had seen.  Emerald green grass carpeted hills which rolled lazily into the grey blue waters of Bass Straight.  The paddocks were liberally dotted with sleek black and white cows many with tiny tottering calves at heel.  Fluffy orange sheep meandered with frolicking lambs and woolly alpacas with supercilious attitudes grazed the luscious grasses.  Mother Nature and man combined to create a rich patchwork of colours where the freshly ploughed potato fields glowed with deep chocolate brown, rich reds, rust and purple. Sitting in royal splendour beyond the fields the Cradle Mountain and her maids-in-waiting overlooked the pastoral splendour.  Knowing we were leaving the mountain and her maids behind made the whole scene even more blindingly beautiful.

I have to say I was just a tad nervous about the trip across Bass Straight in t he middle of winter – I need have had no worries however.  The trip across was very sedate with swells of 1 to 2 metres.  There was a promotion on board celebrating 28 years of operation – an all you can eat Buffet for $28 – we availed ourselves of this and DD was delighted to discover that the buffet included as many fresh prawns as he could eat – and he did, eat them that is.  The food was good and as we had all night, we took our time over a leisurely meal and a couple of drinkies.

The gaming room beckoned, we entered, it took our money off us and we left sadly depleted.  On the advice of our mate Lee, we had booked a cabin (with a porthole) and duly took ourselves off for a snooze.  We both took a Quell just in case.  I was absolutely fine, but DD felt the need to take another during the night when the rocking of the bed caused him to feel just a mite ‘off’.  I actually enjoyed being ‘rocked in the cradle’ and it was surprising too, just how well we could see out of the porthole considering it was a dark and rainy night.

Patchwork At Its Best

The cabins, if you are ever thinking of doing this trip, were very good and quite comfortable; perhaps not really necessary for a day trip, but certainly a good idea at night.  The cost of the cabin was $100 per head.

We deliberately took the Saturday night cruise in order to arrive in Melbourne in the quiet of a Sunday morning.  This proved to be a good idea indeed, but I will regale you with all of that at some other time.

In the meantime, smell the roses while you can – they may be dead and gone tomorrow! Stephanie.

All Aboard