Arthur River was a delight! Every morning, Maggie and I would walk along the tannin river to where it met the ocean, passing the hopeful (and sometimes successful) salmon fishermen and investigating what had been dumped onto the endless beach overnight. I drove out past The Edge of the World (yes! it is called that) towards Nelson Bay. I am surprised by the local planning laws (or lack of these) since there are beach shacks everywhere ... and although this isn't a National Park, there seems to be very little oversight of what is often unsightly and few regulations about where and what dwellings can be erected.
I walked along a path (Maggie locked in the van) to a beach where there were some beautiful petroglyphs. They were mainly circles chipped into the stone although there were some other shapes. It was a lovely area but not a comfortable place to stay still since there were battalions of march flies (or something similar) that were baying for a bite or three! I almost jogged back to the van ... that's how bad they were!
Driving the Tarkine drive was delightful, with shady gullies and lots of tree ferns, tall gums, beech and sassafras. I did a few walks and investigated some waterfalls and sinkholes, although I couldn't do any of the longer walks since it was a bit much for Maggie to be stuck in the van for that long.
After leaving the north-west, I headed back east and stopped for the night at Forest. Where, you ask? And that's probably a reasonable question. Forest is a little village which has a football oval but not a football team, basketball courts but, you guessed it, no team, a shop, a pub that's now closed, a petrol station that's now closed and very little else. But every Sunday at 4pm, the Blackberry Inn is open for drinks and a raffle or two. And you can stay on the edge of the oval for $5 a night (or $30 a week if you're REALLY keen). I had a hoot having a beer or two with the locals (I'd timed it right ... it was Sunday!), learning all about the rules and regulations involved in growing poppies, why only foreigners (this means Victorians) drink wanky beers like pale ale and what should and should not be on a meat tray in a raffle!
Fact for the day: Tasmania produces more than 50% of the world's supply of poppies for the production of morphine and codeine.
With a couple of detours here and there, I headed for Deloraine. What a great little town. The main street is home to a multitude of art galleries, craft shops and little boutique places that I couldn't afford. I visited a salmon farm, walked to some falls, visited some of the amazing artists and then went to Yarns, Artwork in Silk. These were four panels, each one describing a season with references to the buildings, history and activities in the Meander Valley. The mixture of painted silk, applique and quilting produced four panels that were alive with movement and colour. I took a lot of photos but they really don't do credit to the years of work and the cleverness of the design.
Leaving Deloraine a couple of days later, I decided to travel the A5 past the Great Lake and then down to the south. Unfortunately, it was also the day it decided to drizzle, with the clouds descending lower and lower, fog blanketing the valleys. So my magnificent views turned into atmospheric, vague glimpses of pencil pines in the distance and every photo seemed to have drops and drips. But it was beautiful, all the same.
And I made my way to Bothwell. This little place is the site of the first golf course in Australia (not really on my list of amazing and interesting places) but also some beautiful old buildings, mostly built by convicts, and an incredible cemetery which is worth the visit. Old, old graves with some tragic histories and some heart-warming stories. There were convicts who had married into the family that 'owned' them. Children dying in their first 12 months, year after heart-breaking year. And (on a lighter note) there were rabbits ... so Maggie was happy.
Leaving Bothwell, I found a fantastic camp, just up the road at Hamilton. It had everything ... birds, a little creek running next to the van, no-one else there and toilets and shower just up the hill. Perfect! Until disaster struck! Maggie was playing in the creek when she yelped and came out on three legs, blood pouring from her front right foot. And it wouldn't stop bleeding! And she wouldn't stop crying! So I was in a panic trying to find a vet anywhere near to me (Google really let me down on that search) who was (a) open and (b) had an appointment before February. A pretty hard ask ... so I packed up the van and started to drive. I got to New Norfolk and happened to be passing a vet so I ran in (might have shed a tear or two) and begged for an appointment and ... he (Jason) had just had a cancellation! Phew! So a torn nail and possibly dislocated toe was the verdict and some drugs and enforced rest (NO BALLS!) the treatment. It's a small world - he asked me if I knew Katherine Adams from Mansfield who used to work in that same clinic!
