North by Northeast

The northeast corner of Tasmania is one of the most beautiful places in the world. The Bay of Fires is an absolutely spectacular place. The water is a turquoise shade of blue I have never seen, and its beaches are of fine white sand.

But what sets it apart are the large rocks along the shore which are covered in a bright orange lichen. It has a reputation for being spectacular, and, as LK said, it did not disappoint.

We visited different sections of the Bay on two days, and it is unbelievable to me that in nearly every instance we were the only people on the beach. Imagine having this little piece of heaven all to yourself. Fantastic.

On Friday I read up about other places to visit in the northeast and decided we could pop over to Mt Columba Falls, have lunch in Pyengara and still have a nice afternoon at the Bay of Fires. I had failed to realize that the Falls came at the end of some steep, winding roads and it would take longer than the tourist sites had said it would. Let's just say that a certain LK said, "These falls better be worth it," after we'd been driving the twisting road for what seemed too long.

Luckily, they were. You get to the base of the falls with a 10-minute downhill walk through drop-dead beautiful rainforest. It was full of eucalyptus, sassafras and man ferns. Jaki laughed at that last term, but it is the local name for the dicksonia antarcticae, the tree fern.

The falls were pretty, but we've seen a picture of them taken in the winter when more than 50,000 gallons of water go over the edge each minute. Sounds like a great reason for a mid-year return some time.

You can see some pix of them and the Bay of Fires here.

The ride back to Hobart went along much of the east coast of the state, but it was a drizzly, overcast day and not ideal for sightseeing. However, we did discover a great bakehouse along the way so not all was lost.

We got back to Hobart in time for a quick trip to Salamanca Markets (OK, LK and Jaki to the stalls; Robert and me to the Irish pub). And now we are getting ready to launch cocktail hour on our last night in Tasmania.

The trip has confirmed one thing for me. LK and I are going to love it here.

Sweet(water) Basil

We are in the stunningly beautiful northeast corner of Tasmania. So why is there a picture of John Cleese as Basil Fawlty here instead of the postcard-perfect shot of the Bay of Fires?

Welcome to the Sweetwater Villas.

About a decade ago, Cleese did a series of training videos aimed at making people better managers. Unfortunately the guy who runs this place must have rented Fawlty Towers by mistake and not realized that Basil Fawlty was the epitome of everything a manager could do wrong.

Let me give you an example. When we checked in yesterday, our greeting was a look. Not a hello, not a g'day. Nope, Basil jr left it up to us to say hello and welcome ourselves to his establishment.

When we completed the registration form, Basil jr pointed to a question I had missed. "Are you a smoker? Yes or No". Well, I told him I am not a smoker but there is a smoker in or party. "Well they can't smoke in the room," he snapped. "They'll have to go out on the balcony."

Which makes this place exactly like every other place we have been in, only none of them pissed us off when they asked that smokers sit outside. Basil jr also managed to fit in a few other Don't Do This and That's before we left to go to the room.

Inside, the spirit of Basil lived as well. Perhaps there is no friendlier room in a self-contained unit than the kitchen. So Basil jr used it to leave little notes for us. "Washing Up is not housekeeping's responsibility. It is yours!" was the friendly message above the sink.

And in the container with sachets of instant coffee, tea and sugar. Here Basil managed to start out nicely. "Tea, coffee and sugar are complimentary" his note began. But he quickly returned to form by adding, "If you run out, you supply your own or purchase from the office at 50 cents per sachet."

Actually, since I am mocking him, I have to tell you that the note actually said 50 cents per satchel, but we all know how rude it is to make fun of vocabulary mistakes. The poor man probably has a small dictionary.

LK wanted to check out the laundry room this morning as we headed out to do some sightseeing. She was checking to see how much the machines cost (of course, this is the first place this entire trip that is not providing them for free!) and there was Basil jr, doing the hotel laundry.

He pointed to the sign that said the laundry was closed to guests from 8am to 1pm. "The laundry is closed to guests until 1pm," he said to LK. She showed unusually strong willpower - for her - to only snarl at him that she could see that but was only checking to see how much it cost. She didn't even bother to ask him why a hotel would set rules that meant the staff had priority over the guests. But that was probably because she already knew the answer.

When we came back from a walk along the beach today, Robert and Jaki showed how much Basil had gotten under their skin by reminding us that we were forbidden to go into the rooms with sand on our feet. Damn, I had noticed the rule about fishermen having to clean their catch at water's edge and completely ignored the sandy foot edict.

I feel a fair share of guilt about this. When LK booked places, we ended up in charming cottages with lovely views and hands-off owners. When I booked, I got us into Sweetwater Villas, which are on muddy, not sweet, water and give villa a new definition - namely, square cinder-block rooms. And Basil jr.

I think after this, LK will be happy to be the one who arranges our accommodation in the future. She might even offer to do the same for Basil jr. Out front of the units is a sign saying Sweetwater Villas is for sale because the managers want to retire. Won't he be surprised when he has leisure time and discovers not every hotel is run like Fawlty Towers.

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PS Lots to say and show about this fantastic place, but need hours to upload the pics so Bay of Fires in the next post.

Dress Code

I know I have written about it before, but I need to write another post about my uniform. Since I retired, I have pretty much lived in t-shirts, shorts and, depending on my mood, either flip-flops or sneakers. When I am in the mood, I accessorize with a baseball cap.

When we flew in from Adelaide the other day, LK said to me that she was a little surprised that I wore a t-shirt and shorts for the plane ride. "I thought you might have put on a golf shirt with a collar," she said.

I explained to her that people simply do not get dressed up to take a plane ride nowadays.

But today my uniform failed to pass muster. We went to the Cascade Brewery to take the tour. But they won't let you in if you don't have long pants. And, to top that off, they won't let people wearing flip-flops or sandals on the premises, either. Something about safety in the workplace, they claimed, but I have my doubts.

Nonetheless, there is one thing of which I am certain. Today I wasn't dressed well enough to get inside a beer factory. Funny enough, in a way I am a little proud of that.

I should add that Robert and Jaki were also on Mr Blackwell's Worst Dressed for the Beer Factory Tour List. Only LK was wearing both long pants and shoes and, of course, she was the only one who didn't care one way or the other if she got to see how beer is made.

Mind you, if it had been a factory showing how diamonds are cut, polished and set, she would have told us to find a way to kill an hour while she went on the tour. But watching boiling pots of malt and barley was never going to entice her.

The good news, though, is that the grounds of Cascade Brewery are still a fantastic place to wander around, even if you can't smell the yeast. By the time I took this picture, we were already in a good mood despite not taking the tour.

The brewery has lovely gardens, and we all strolled around enjoying the bright sunshine of a late summer day in Hobart. OK, we were killing time before we went to sample the beers in the visitor center, but it sounds better to say we were admiring the plants.

They have a little cafe there and picnic tables outside, so we ordered lunch. Well, and another beer, too, and we had a most enjoyable time at a place that had pretty much told us to piss off when we said we were there for the tour.

They even had some cool stuff on display like the old bottles they used when they sold ginger beer and dandelion wine.

And LK was particularly smitten with the picture of Fatty Armstrong they had posted. Fatty worked at Cascade around 1900.

She took a picture of Fatty's picture and couldn't wait to show it to me. I don't know what this means, but deep in my heart I am hoping that something has snapped and LK now gets turned on by guys with three or more chins. Here's hoping.

After the brewery we went out to our house at Kingston Beach. We wanted Robert to see the house and to get his input and thoughts about the renovations we are considering. Robert and Jaki worked hard measuring and diagramming, while LK talked with our 90-year-old tenant to make sure she wasn't upset by a carload of strangers lobbing into her house armed with tape measures and pencils.

I contributed as best I could, which more or less meant staying out of everyone else's way.

After all that, we drove up high above Hobart. The Mt Nelson Signal Station has a drop-dead panoramic view of the area and it is stunning to see. LK took a Flip video so you could get the sense of it, and when we get a connection that works better I will upload it to YouTube. Until then, here's a sample:


Tomorrow we pack the car and head north. First stop, lunch at Launceston. Final destination, the Bay of Fires in time for sunset. Should be great.

The Windy City

"Why would you want to move to Hobart where it's so cold?" many of our friends in Sydney asked.

"The winds will drive you crazy," warned my friend John (who probably isn't my friend anymore since I forgot to call him before we left Sydney).

We laughed at them. And now we are in Hobart where it's cool and the winds are always blowing.

But it's not bad, believe me. When I say cool I mean in the 60s and the winds are really only strong when you are either A) down near the water or B) up high in the mountains, both of which we did yesterday.

I see on the Internet that Sydney had its hottest night in 13 years yesterday. Which prompts me to ask the question, "Why would anyone want to live in such an uncomfortable city? And don't you wish the winds - FROM TASMANIA - would arrive quickly to cool the place down?"

We're doing the tourist thing in our new hometown this week. We cannot get into our house until they find a facility for our elderly tenant, and so we're in a hotel down near the waterfront.

Yesterday we drove the winding road along the waterfront from the city to Kingston Beach to show Robert and Jaki the landscape at our new home. We watched some kids learning surf lifesaving on the beach and then within a few miles we were high in the heavily wooded hills going to Huonville. Stopped to show them Sleeping Beauty Mountain, and just about got blown over.

Back to town for a couple of hours of laziness before walking down to Mure's for a great seafood dinner last night.

Today we will check out the Cascade Brewery tour and inspect our house in Kingston Beach to get Robert's ideas about renovating it once we have possession again.

The sun is shining. The temperature is going up to the 70s. And we're loving it.

Leaving Adelaide

Our last day in South Australia was a bit of this and that.

We had a late breakfast in the Dovecote Cottage and I was washing the dishes when the woman who owns the place came over to collect the rest of the money due. "It's nice to see a man doing the washing up," she said. I sniffed and told her I do it all the time." I started to tell her it's become a traditional role for the men in the family, but she had walked away before I could add anything else.

We had a few hours to kill before our flight so I had mapped out a plan to visit two of the top wineries - Peter Lehmann and Penfolds. I think Lehmann makes the very best red wines in the country, and I wanted Robert and Jaki to have a taste. The woman at the cellar door was super friendly and was ready to pour all 40+ wines they had if we wished. It was only 11, so we stuck with just a couple of the top reds.

Up the road to one of the leading wine producers in the country, Penfolds. Penfolds makes a range of wines from low-priced to ultra high-priced, and even at the bargain end of the range you usually get a good drop. Penfolds is also now owned by a beer company, Fosters, which owns dozens of wine brands, including the Beringer label in the US.

It may be the sign of a bloated corporation, or it could be the sign of an employee who just didn't have a clue, but either way our experience at Penfolds was 180 degrees south of that at Peter Lehmann. Jaki and I went to the tasting bar to try the wines. There was another couple getting a taste of something or other from the woman behind the bar, so I took the time to read the tasting list - which showed me quite clearly that Penfolds wasn't about to let anyone taste their better wines as Peter Lehmann does.

Anyhow, I could have read a lot more because the woman pouring the tastings didn't come over to us once. She chatted with the other couple, left the bar to get something to read to them, read it to them, laughed and discussed the wine they were drinking, and once nodded in our direction. I think that was to show that she knew we were there but she didn't care.

After a very patient wait, Jaki and left without once sampling the wine. And the annoying thing is that Fosters makes about 1 billion bucks a year off its wine brands and no one is ever going to care that people who actually support its products were treated shabbily. Make that, who once supported its products. Believe me, there is more than enough great wine in the world that I can ignore Penfolds as easily as their employee ignored me.

Anyhow, that was our last stop and we were on the road to the Adelaide Airport with Honor leading the way and LK overseeing our route. All was well until we were within a mile or so of the airport. That's when I went straight through an intersection when LK had been saying to turn right.

Strangely, neither LK, Jaki or Robert said much. But I could feel the eyes rolling in the back seat. Anyhow, Honor plotted yet another course to make up for my directional deficiencies, we arrived at the airport and caught the plane to Melbourne where we transferred to Hobart.

We're home, Linda said as we landed, which felt a bit odd to hear for the first time. Especially since we won't have a house to move into until our tenant vacates. Nonetheless, we are in our new hometown. More about Hobart next time.

Backtracking

We spent last night in the Barossa Valley. This shot from Bethany cannot quite capture the scale and beauty of the valley that you see when you actually stand there. Of course, it doesn't help that some fat guy is blocking half the picture.

Honor the GPS performed very well getting us here along a scenic route yesterday. LK quibbled with her a bit, but on the whole I have high hopes the two of them will learn to get along for the good of the team - especially since we are exploring Tasmania and New Zealand in the next part of our adventure.

I have been the designated driver this trip and even I must admit I have fallen into a very odd habit of going past wherever we should be and having to backtrack. On Friday I decided we could let Honor and LK both have the day off and I plotted a simple route to a couple of wineries a few miles from the cottage.

We got to the first one easily enough, and it was just a quick jog over to the next. Fifteen minutes later when we got to the ocean, I had to admit I had missed my turn.

Then on Saturday we went back to the Salopian Inn for dinner. We had been there once and driven past it earlier that day, so no need to plot a course. And by golly we arrived easily. Going home was a bit of a different story.

I was more or less on autopilot since we had driven to the cottage many times in the past few days. Sure, it had been in daylight, but how would that be a problem? My passengers obviously were of the same mind, because none of them noticed that the trip back was taking lots longer than the one out.

I suspected I had missed the street when I saw a sign for a Camel Farm, something I was pretty sure I hadn't seen earlier in the trip. So I did the obvious. I kept driving as if nothing was wrong.

When we reached an area that everyone knew we had never seen before, it was time to turn back. It was the longest 10 minutes I have ever driven.

Yesterday we located the Dovecote Cottage in Tanunda, where we are staying. It is on a very quiet back street, with only a few other properties. It was still being cleaned so we drove off in search of lunch, after which we decided to ditch our bags in the cottage and have a wander.

It was Jaki who first pointed out that I had driven past the cottage.

And then we went in search of the Sculpture Garden, a pretty spot up here. Never did find it, but it was only a couple of miles of backtracking to get back to where I knew where we were.

I am coming to the conclusion that after 10 days of homelessness, I am becoming a man without direction.

Hobart tonight.

McLaren Vale

One thing about the folks here in McLaren Vale, they aren't bashful about recommending things for you to do.

When we checked in Thursday, Jacinta, the owner of the cottage, told us we really should have lunch at the Salopian Inn - which we did. Food was so good we booked to go back on Saturday, our last night here.

And while we were at the restaurant, the manager told us we really should drive down to Sellicks Beach on the Southern Ocean and have a drink at the Victory Hotel.

After lunch, we went into town to get some supplies for the cottage and ended up wandering into a small shop in that specializes in Italian wine. If that sounds like opening a store selling Vermont cheddar in Paris, you'd be just about right. But the woman who owned the shop was fun to talk to, which was good since she talked a lot. An awful lot.

Anyhow, before we left she told us we absolutely had to visit a couple of wineries Friday, and so we set out to visit Scarpantoni's and Alpha Box and Dice. Scarpantoni's was OK, but since we have no home to ship a carton to right now we grabbed just a few bottles to drink during our time here.

Our next stop was Alpha Box and Dice. Well, technically our next stop was several miles away from Alpha Box and Dice since we had given Honor the day off and I got lost. It took LK time to figure out a new route to recover from my mistake, but we eventually made it and once we got to this place it turned out to be a lot of fun.

The tasting room is an old shed that has been decorated by graphic designers and artists with a sense of humor. There's actually more emphasis on decorations than wine until you belly up to the small bar for the tasting. There winemaker Justin Lane has put together some really interesting Italian-variety wines to taste inside this shed overlaid with all the trappings of an out-of-control ad agency.

Much of the cellar door is great fun. That picture on the right is a great example. Apparently Justin has been ragged on because he is making Italian varietals and doesn't have a long family tradition behind his efforts. That photo of an Italian-looking gentleman says simply, "We don't know this man. He contributed nothing to this place." And that is that for his critics.

After Alpha Box & Dice, we went to d'Arenberg's, probably the top winery in the area. We went primarily because our friend David - who really knows his wines - recommended it as the best of the bunch when he was down here a couple of years ago.

Last night Andrew, Jacinta's husband, came by and recommended that we go to the farmers market in Willunga first thing in the morning. Which we did, and then hotfooted it over to Sellick's Beach. It was too early - even for us - to have a drink at the Victory Hotel, so we decided to put our feet in the Southern Ocean. That's me standing in there the top of this post, and these were some beachcombers I saw there.

After walking in the ocean, we went to Samuel's Gorge and Oliver's, two wineries which Andrew had recommended. Both had some really good wine, and at Oliver's the cellar door people - who were incredibly friendly - recommended that we have lunch at the cafe on the grounds.

Which, of course, we did.

So we're back in the cottage for a lazy afternoon before heading back to the Salopian Inn. I am pretty sure the staff will recommend stuff for us to eat. And the ladies at Oliver's have already recommended a grenache we should order.

We've had a great couple of days here, and - as you can probably tell - the only challenge was getting here. Once we arrived, we only had to follow someone else's recommendation.