Dear all,
Monday 5th January.
Today’s adventure began at the Tasmanian Devil UnZoo in
Taranna. The first Tasmanian Devil feeding was at 10:00am, and what a
performance it was. Two devils were the stars of the show, demonstrating why
their species has survived for millennia: sheer determination, impressive jaw
strength, and the ability to make adorable noises while fighting over a chunk
of wallaby. The “cute noises” were somewhere between a grumble, a snort, and a
disgruntled toddler. Charles Darwin never heard such things, but he would have
approved.
The UnZoo concept is thoroughly modern: animals roam freely, and
humans behave themselves. Mostly. It had all the usual Australian
suspects—kangaroos, wallabies, birds with opinions—but the devils stole the
show. They exceeded expectations so thoroughly that we briefly considered
adopting one, before remembering they can bite through metal.
On the way to the Freycinet Peninsula, we stopped at the Spiky
Bridge, a famously odd relic just south of Swansea. Built in the 1840s by
convicts, the bridge’s jagged stone parapets were supposedly designed to stop
cattle from tumbling over the sides. Another theory is that the stonemasons
were simply told to “use up the leftover rocks,” which feels very on‑brand for
19th‑century government efficiency. Either way, it remains one of Tasmania’s
more charismatic pieces of road infrastructure.
From there we drove north to Dolphin Sands. Our afternoon stop was
the Melshell Oyster Shack, where surprisingly we ordered BBQ Scallops as we were
anticipating a major oyster day ahead. The scallops were excellent, the Rosé
was cold, and the breezy view across the water made us think seriously about
moving to Tasmania and becoming beach hermits.
Finally, we returned to our secret beach hideaway, Driftwater
Cottage, tucked away amid the sand dunes. The light softened, the wind
quietened, and the place felt like it had been designed specifically to lower
blood pressure. A simple day, really: devils in the morning, scallops in the
afternoon, and sand dunes in the evening. Tasmania continues to deliver.
Tuesday 6th January was a full-on seafood day, starting
with a 45-minute drive to Freycinet Peninsula’s Oyster Bay Tours. We suited up
in waterproof waders and stepped out into the sea looking like a cheerful,
oversized toddlers. Out at the oyster beds we met the babies—tiny 1 cm specks
of ambition—and spent about 40 minutes in the sea learning how they’re farmed. We
saw oysters of all shapes and sizes, but the real showstopper was a 12‑year‑old
oyster roughly the size of a paperback novel. Apparently, in the wild they can
grow up to a metre long, which raises the question: at what point does an
oyster stop being an oyster and start being a piece of furniture?
Back on shore, we shucked a dozen oysters (each one a small
triumph), followed by a dozen mussels from the same farm. All washed down with
a crisp glass of white wine, because one must stay hydrated while performing
strenuous maritime labour. We then returned to the Oyster Shack for a platter
of prawns—because restraint is for people who don’t holiday on the East Coast.
Suitably fortified, we drove to Bicheno for a quick stop at the
famous Blowhole, which was in a contemplative mood. The tide was too low for
any dramatic eruptions, but a short stroll across the granite rocks was
refreshing. To round out our seafood‑themed pilgrimage, we visited the world‑famous
Bicheno Lobster Shack—a title they may or may not have given themselves,
but who are we to argue? Lobster rolls and a salt‑and‑pepper squid salad came
home with us, forming the final chapter of a day dedicated almost entirely to
eating things that once lived in the ocean. Back at our own little beach shack,
we enjoyed the feast.
Wednesday, 7th January
We headed
to Freycinet National Park, home of pink granite mountains and famously
photogenic beaches. Our target was the Wineglass Bay Beach Walk & Hazards
Beach Circuit, an 11km walking loop of roughly four hours, depending on
fitness, enthusiasm, and stops to admire the views. The track began with
a steady climb to the Wineglass Bay lookout, where the reward is that classic
crescent of white sand and turquoise water. Apparently, the bay’s name has
nothing to do with wine and everything to do with 19th‑century whaling—when the
sheltered waters supposedly turned the colour of claret. A charming image for
the tourism brochures.
From the lookout we descended to the beach itself, crossed the
isthmus, and continued along Hazards Beach, which stretches out in a long,
golden arc beneath the granite peaks. The weather was glorious – the Tasmanian
Summer had finally arrived – and it was a very hot day. By the final
kilometres, Katie had misplaced the will to live, but she soldiered on with
admirable stoicism and very little complaining, while I pretended to be fresh
as a daisy.
After completing the circuit, we drove to the Cape Tourville
Lighthouse, perched dramatically above the Tasman Sea. Built in 1971, it’s one
of the more modern lighthouses in Tasmania, but earns full marks for its
stunning scenery—endless ocean views in one direction and beautiful Wineglass
Bay beach in the other. The wind was bracing and Katie refused to climb any
more steps, so we made a quick retreat to the car. On the way home we made a
strategic stop at Devil’s Corner Winery, where a couple of glasses of Rosé
restored spirits, electrolytes, and general goodwill towards humanity.
The next day, Thursday 8th January, we left
early for Launceston, deposited the car at the hotel, and embarked on a
full‑day winery tour of the Tamar Valley, one of Australia’s oldest wine
regions. The first vines were planted here in the 1830s, though the modern
industry didn’t take off until the 1950s, when someone realised the cool
climate was perfect for sparkling wine and smugness.
Our stops included: Winterbrook — boutique and charming; Small
Wonder – lunch platter with lovely view; Iron Pot Bay — named after a
nearby island that once hosted a convict‑built lighthouse; and Westella — grand
old homestead turned cellar door. We purchased several bottles along the way
which resulted in a case of happy Tasmanian memories being shipped home.
We returned to the hotel at 5pm for a restorative lie‑down before
venturing to Du Cane for a quick pizza dinner. In a shocking twist, we did not
have wine. The Tamar Valley had already taken care of that.
On Friday, 9th January we explored the Cataract
Gorge, Launceston’s pride and joy, from multiple angles. Discovered by
Europeans in 1804, the gorge is a dramatic cleft of dolerite cliffs and
improbably calm water. First, we cruised on it with the Tamar Gorge Cruise, a
90-minute trip up and into the gorge itself, admiring the dramatic cliffs and
19th century steel bridge. Next the Gorge Scenic Chairlift across
the gorge which claims to be the longest single‑span chairlift in the world. That
may not be technically true, but it certainly feels long enough when you’re
dangling over the river with your legs swinging. Once across the gorge, we
hiked steeply upwards to the Eagles Eyrie Lookout, a climb that rewarded us
with sweeping views looking down on the gorge from an improbably high vantage
point.
That evening we dined at Stillwater, widely considered
Launceston’s best restaurant. It was indeed a very good meal, with a dignified
level of understatement. Katie was very impressed and is already planning a
return visit.
On Saturday 10th January we farewelled
Launceston and headed south toward Richmond, home to that famous
bridge—the one featured in every Tasmanian calendar since calendars were
invented. Built by convicts in 1823, Richmond Bridge is Australia’s oldest
surviving large stone arch bridge, which makes it both historically significant
and surprisingly sturdy considering the day’s winds were trying very
hard to test 200 years of engineering.
Unfortunately, Tasmania decided to showcase her dramatic side. The
weather turned on us with gale‑force enthusiasm and teeming rain. So much for
the Tasmanian Summer. Our visit became a brisk dash: out of the car, confirm
bridge still exists, back into the car before we blew into the Coal River.
From there it was straight on to Hobart for one last night
on the Apple Isle. That afternoon we visited the Cascades Female
Factory—Australia’s most deceptively named institution. Despite sounding like a
Victorian-era sewing co‑op, it was in fact a women’s prison, where over 7,000
female convicts were “processed” between 1828 and 1856. The stories were
sobering, the history compelling, and the architecture … well, it’s mainly just
walls, but they are very historical walls.
Needing something a little lighter, emotionally and hydration‑wise,
we headed to Cascade Brewery for a tour and tasting. Founded in 1824, Cascade
is Australia’s oldest operating brewery and conveniently located at the foot of
Mount Wellington—presumably so the beer can run downhill faster. The tasting
session was educational in its own special way, and afterwards we settled into
the Brewery Bar for dinner. Great food, great atmosphere, and a pleasant amount
of contentment.
Next morning we were up suitably early for the flight back to
Brisbane. It was a terrific holiday and Tasmania was completely awesome. There
was history, there were walks, there was seafood and there was wine, so much
wine. We experienced all four seasons in our fortnight, including the full
Tasmanian summer, but even weather tantrums have a certain charm in Tassie. A
return visit is definitely on the cards.
Back in Brisbane, Katie focused on the Australian Open tennis,
watching as many matches as is humanly possible. On 24th January we
eased into the late‑summer Brisbane social calendar with an Australia Day
BBQ at Carolyn & John Biddles, joined by Sue and Brad Rasmussen. It was
a very relaxed and convivial sort of evening, with a bit more tennis-watching
thrown in for good measure.
The following day, 25th January, our friend Libby
hosted a farewell long lunch for her upcoming move out of Mortlake Road.
It was the kind of lunch where time quietly dissolves, and nobody checks the
clock. Bernie and I arrived wearing the same shirt, to much hilarity from the
rest of the group. Disturbingly, it is the second time this has happened, suggesting
either a deep personal connection or a small shirt ecosystem. Paul has now
bought one as well, which does not bode well for future gatherings. Anyway, it
was a very lovely long lunch and a bit sad as none of us want to see Libby
leaving the hood.
The following day, 26th January, we were back at the
table again, this time having been invited to lunch with our neighbours on both
sides — the Goulds and the Poulsens. This officially confirmed the weekend as a
Long Weekend of Very Long Lunches, something Brisbane appears well
designed to support.
On 30th January, it was time for our quarterly Winosaurs
wine tasting at Alan and Liz Raggatt’s house. As always, it was a lively
night with a solid turnout from the street, increasingly confident tasting
notes, and debates that became more passionate as the bottles emptied. Nobody
left in an ambulance, which is always a good outcome, and we wobbled home after
an entertaining night.
We caught up with Ian and Cathy Muir for a nice dinner on 1st
February. They are renovating their Jindalee house while living in it, which is
not for the faint‑hearted. While
progress has been made, getting tradies to turn up when promised remains an
ongoing challenge. Katie has been pontificating madly about how the current
inability to find an actual builder or tradie in town doesn’t bode well for the
Brisbane government’s plan to construct four new stadiums and associated
infrastructure in under six years for the upcoming 2032 Brisbane Olympics. As
an example, the new building at the end of our street is potentially the
world’s slowest build, with a daily average of one builder on site, according
to Katie, sticking tiles on the façade one at a time. It is excruciatingly
slow.
On 6th February, we made time for a little culture and
visited The Art of Banksy exhibition in Queen Street Mall. I knew
very little about Banksy beforehand and found it fascinating. Afterwards, Katie
and I turned it into a date night with dinner at Pompette, the French
restaurant at Queens Wharf, which delivered excellent food in very civilised
surroundings.
Friday 13th February took us to the newly reopened Mt
Coot‑tha Summit Restaurant for dinner with Nathan and Sigrid Groenhaut. The
last time we’d eaten there was back in 1998 with Katie’s parents, Ken and Pam,
and an 18‑month‑old Matthew. After being closed and slowly rotting away for
more than 15 years, the restaurant has finally been restored and looked
spectacular, with great food and even better views. Nathan and Sigrid are
heading off to the USA, so this was our last dinner out with them before a
farewell party on the Sunday. Heavy rain forced everyone inside and things got
a little steamy.
On 21th February, we had another dinner out, this time at
Short Grain in Fortitude Valley with Ian Whitton and Liz Redfern, who
were up from Melbourne for the weekend. It is Katie’s favourite restaurant and
we seem to be there every second month. As always, it was superb food and
lovely company. We spent the afternoon of 28th February at my sister
Lisa’s house admiring the new house / mansion they’ve bought next door to their
existing property. Afterwards, we collected Indian takeaway from Kenmore and
headed to Ian and Cathy Muir’s again — renovations still progressing steadily.
Derek, Katie, Matt, Jessie, Molly & Pippa
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