Taking a walk through central Hobart

 

Tasman Bridge across the Derwent River

I have been into Hobart CBD on several occasions. It is an easy bus ride from the east side, over the Derwent River on the graceful Tasman Bridge, past the Botanic Gardens, turn right past the few hi-rise buildings and in 15 minutes the bus deposits you in the colonial heart of downtown Hobart.

I do not come to buy things, not even to window shop (well maybe a little bit of window shopping) but I come to wander the streets and admire the architecture and soak up the atmosphere.

Hobart has retained many of the original colonial Georgian buildings, each a work of art, standing proud and tall a credit to the craftsmanship of the stone masons of long ago.

The jewel in the crown of these buildings is the Town Hall. Impressive and graceful it was built in 1864. The transportation of convicts from England had ceased in 1853 and Hobart wanted to turn its back on its tainted convict past. The Town Hall made a statement when it opened in 1866 it symbolized the hope of future greatness for the city.

Hobart Town Hall

Hobart Town Hall

 

Walking past the Post Office building and into the Elizabeth Street shopping Mall the beautifully renovated colonial buildings now house the multinational stores you can find everywhere around Australia.

Post Office building

Post office clock

Elizabeth Street Mall

Colonial buildings along the Mall

Flower stall in the Mall

Elizabeth Street Mall

Locals out shopping

Hobart CBD

Council offices

Heart of Hobart

The Mall

Further down Elizabeth Street on the fringes of the CBD I discover an old-fashioned shop run by the CWA (Country Women’s Association). The shelves are stocked with homemade jams, chutney and preserves. Hand knitted beanies and baby clothes jostle with home-baked cakes fresh from country kitchens and an array of craft work all presided over by two friendly CWA volunteers who look wholesome and healthy as though they had just arrived from the farm.

CWA shop

Friendly volunteer staff in the CWA shop

Next door a quaint, small café looked very inviting and enticed me in with an aroma of coffee and fresh-baked bread. I placed my order, smoked Tasmanian salmon, poached egg and a potato rosti on a bed of rocket and of course a cup of coffee. Then I climb the steep, narrow stairs to the upper level and sit at my table eavesdropping on 4 business people on the next table as they discuss sales strategies.  

Time for lunch

Old Fashioned cafe

The steep stairs

Lunch

 

Re-energized with food and caffeine I explore the arcades, a tangle of covered alleyways that join from street to street going in all directions. I browse through them, yes window shopping, Elizabeth Arcade, Wellington Walk, Centre point, Cat and Fiddle Arcade (now where did that name come from?).

Cat and Fiddle Arcade

Wellington Walk

Inside the Arcade

Colourful displays in the Arcade

Time passes and eventually I come to the end and out onto a street with no idea where I am. I do not want to go back through the arcades so stand looking at a street map, turning it this way and that trying to get my bearings.

I think I have previously mentioned I am very directionally challenged.

Well within minutes a couple come over to help and point me in the right direction for Elizabeth Street and the buses.

I like that attitude in a city, people have time to stop and help. Travelling on a crowded bus I have had a younger person offer me their seat and seen other people both male and female get up for elderly people. Many passengers say “thank you” to the bus drivers as they get off. A man opening a door into a store for his partner also holds it open for me and gives me a smile as I pass him. People seem to walk slower; more people say “Hello” and smile. Just little things but an accumulation of these positive things give this city of Hobart a good feeling for me, I like this city, I enjoy discovering its secrets, it is a pedestrian friendly city, walking gives time to appreciate the beauty of your surroundings, of the autumn leaves and how they are now giving way to the stark, bare branches of winter.

Winter is here but the bare branches look beautiful against a blue sky.

Time is slipping by. We have been here 5 weeks and only 3 left now. Still some things to do before we fly back to the Goldcoast.

 

Hobart harbour photo essay

Like most capital cities the explorers and pioneers chose the position for ease of access. In the days of sail boats as the main transport that meant a good safe harbour and a reliable source of water from a river.

The Derwent is deep and wide, almost 3 kilometres wide near the estuary and is the widest in Tasmania.

The Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race is an annual ocean yacht race, considered to be
one of the most difficult in the world. It starts at Sydney Harbour on Boxing
Day and finishes a few days later in Hobart, approximately 1,170 kilometres (630
nautical miles) away. Since the inaugural race in 1945, the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race has become one
of the top three offshore yacht races in the world and it now attracts weekend
racers and sleek maxi yachts from all around the globe.

The finish is at the Constitution Dock and thousands gather to cheer the yachts into harbour after the gruelling and some times deadly race, lives have been lost in storms during the race.

But at this time of the year the main vessels are the fishing fleet preparing to head out again for the lucrative crayfish catch.

I spent a very interesting day wandering around the wharves, talking to the fishermen and taking lots of photos.

This is another part of Hobart.

 

 

 

Lingering Look at Windows : Convicts views

The windows at Port Arthur Penal Colony say,

“You are staying here until you have served your sentence.”

Escaping was not an option..
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The ruins of the Catholic church

The only window in the prisoners chapel

Even when derelict the windows are a bleak out look

It’s all about the bars

The  founders of a new colony,

whatever Utopia of human virtue and happiness they  might originally project,

have invariably recognized it among their earliest  practical necessities

 to allot a portion of the virgin soil as a cemetery,

 and  another portion as the site of a prison.
Nathaniel  Hawthorne

Each week on Thursday Dawn of “the day after” asks that we post photos of windows we have come across. Having this weekly challenge opens your eyes to the amazing type and style of windows you can find. See what you can find, you may like to show them off in this challenge

Tree Tuesday : Mt Field National Park

 

Swamp gum towering to 90 metres

Jack dwarfed by the swamp gum

The fog enveloped us as we drove along the Derwent Valley, the rich, fertile agricultural area. The road followed the banks of the Derwent River and the brochures extolled the views. None of the scenery could be seen today. We briefly stopped at New Norfolk, found a café to have a pie and coffee to warm us up, then back into the car and pushed on for Mt Field assuring ourselves that misty photos would be atmospheric.

Mt Field National Park is one of Tasmania’s most loved national parks. The park has a wide variety of scenic features and wildlife and offers a great range of facilities for day visitors. Few other national parks in Australia offer such a diversity in vegetation, ranging from tall swamp gum forests and massive tree ferns at the base of the mountain, through rainforest along the Lake Dobson Road, to alpine vegetation at the higher elevations.

Five minutes before we turned into the interpretation centre the fog lifted and the sun bathed the area in its golden light. How lucky we are.

No misty, atmospheric photos but we were walking through a land of majestic giants, tree ferns added their unique presence and moss and lichen draped and dripped over every thing. Being winter and quite cool we had this awe-inspiring place to our selves. The sign said it would be a 25 minute round walk to the water fall. We took an hour…

So come with us to walk among the giants of the tree world. Listen to the dripping of moisture, the song of birds and the rustling of the leaves. Smell the distinctive musty smell of decay and marvel at natures beauty.

Walking among the tall trees

Strange shapes draped in moss

Moss drapes all the branches

A fallen giant

Moss covered giants

Fungus

Tall trees walk

Towering tree ferns Dicksonia Antartica

Fungus

Inquisitive wallaby

 

Mount Field is the location of what must be the most photographed waterfall in Tasmania – Russell Falls. Its three elegant tiers, framed by lush vegetation, have attracted visitors for well over a hundred years.

In 1885 Russell Falls became Tasmania’s first nature reserve, while Mount Field was declared a national park in 1916.

With very little rain falling for a long time the falls were only a delicate version of what they must be in a rainy season, but surrounded by the tree ferns and vegetation they made a beautiful picture.

Russell Falls

Further up the mountain is Lake Dobson and the alpine region but that will have to wait for another visit. The sun is on the horizon and time to head back home.

Rainbow Ride.

Reblogged from jacksjottings:

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RAINBOW RIDE.

I know I am fortunate. Why am I so lucky or am I blessed? I honestly believe it is karma. Karma is a fact in this life, I have experience it in my life. Karma flowing from one life to the next is beyond my experience. I have no knowledge of past lives so I will remain an agnostic on that issue.

Read more… 792 more words

I love this description, from Jack, of a really interesting day we shared together. Come and share it with us and meet the lovely hitch-hiker we gave a lift to, and the glorious sunset and rainbow.

Exploring the convict past

This is the Penitentiary at Port Arthur Penal Colony, a major tourist destination in Tasmania.

The convict past of Australia started here in 1830 as a timber-getting camp using convict labour to produce sawn logs for government projects. In 1833 it became a punishment station for hardened and repeat offenders from around other States. The conditions for convicts were harsh.

I’d heard the stories of Port Arthur. The cramped conditions, the horrific punishments given for any misdemeanour, on a treadmill for 8 hours, 100 lashes of the cat o’ nine tails, solitary confinement in total darkness. I was expecting a grim, dingy collection of dusty overwhelming relics and dilapidated ruins. A harsh and unforgiving atmosphere. A feeling of despair.

In reality the place was strangely beautiful. Maybe the sun created a happiness I hadn’t expected. The extensive lawns sweeping between the buildings a vibrant green backdrop for the impressively large buildings, the warm, subtle golden hue of the sandstone showing the scratches and pock-marks from the picks and tools of the convict builders and every where the magnificent trees clothed in the colours of autumn, oaks, elms, poplars reminiscent of England, the Mother country to many of the convicts.

The start of the Port Arthur experience is a 40 minute orientation walk with Jamie. The stories and details he tells give a different picture, taking us back to the 1800′s and how life was then for the people here, both the convicts, the soldiers and the free citizens working and living here. Another side of this colony he put forward was that being here could be better than back in England, yes it was harsh and the work was hard but, they had 3 meals a day, their clothing was supplied and they had a roof over their head and were taught a trade that would be useful once they earn their freedom.

Many convicts did serve their sentence to be given their ticket of leave and then become free citizens. Many Australians can trace their ancestry back to these early convicts. In the early 1900′s it was considered a skeleton in the cupboard to be hidden and not talked about, but now it is a badge of pride to have this in your history. A sign of being a “fair dinkum Aussie”.

Could this be what has shaped the larrikin character and the  ”she’ll be right mate” attitude of the Australian?

A building befitting the rank and position of commandant was built in 1833

Stone steps up to the front veranda of the commandant’s house

Impressive entrance to the commandant’s house

Commandant’s office

Bedroom commandant’s house

Dining room commandant’s house

Kitchen in the Commandants house

The Commandant’s house was built on a hill overlooking the harbour and between this house and the convict’s area a very solid guard-house was built. The soldier’s quarters were in this building and the towers were manned 24 hours a day.

Guard tower built between the commandant’s house and the convict buildings, I think it has a Roman garrison look about it.

The main prison block, the Penitentiary is the photo at the top of this post. It was a 4 story building. The bottom 2 levels housed convicts of bad character in 136 cells, the top floor had 480 better behaved convicts and they had bunks to sleep in. The third floor was an industrial area for training convicts in various trades. This building had been destroyed by fire and has been left as a ruin.

The building in the photo below has been partially restored and is the “separate prison, asylum and church”  Convicts were sent here as punishment. They were kept in total isolation and no sound was allowed, the warders even wore rags on their boots so they could not be heard coming. When they went to church on Sundays they wore masks and had to look at the floor all the time. For further punishment they would be put into cells with no light, no bed, no blankets and only bread and water and not let out for up to 3 weeks. I stepped inside one of these claustrophobic cells with absolutely no light, complete and enfolding blackness, and could feel the horror that would engulf me as the door was closed.  Many prisoners were broken in both mind and spirit in here and so they went to the asylum to spend the rest of their days.

When I walked around this building I could feel the horror of the system that until then I had not felt.

The asylum, church and separate prison for solitary confinement

One of the cell blocks

Very confined, cramped space in the cells

Inside the church confined in standing room, no seats

Pink building is the asylum, behind it the separate prison

The policy of grinding rogues into honest men

In stark contrast to the convict areas and well away from them a cluster of cottages housed the military and free men and their families. Parties, regattas and literary evenings were common. Beautiful gardens were created and children played and attended school within the settlement. What a place of contrasts and contradictions, but this is the start of Australia.

Cottage of a free man

Gardens in the free community

Impressive ruins of the Catholic church situated near the free community cottages.

Beautiful oak trees

The beauty of autumn foliage

Many prisoners died here the primary cause being industrial accidents and respiratory diseases. A small island called the Isle of the Dead in the harbour was used as a cemetery and between 1833 and 1877  around 1100 people were buried here. They also included military and civil officers and their families. The convicts were not given any head stones or acknowledgment of their final resting place.

Isle of the dead

The Penal Colony closed in 1877 and many of its buildings were dismantled or destroyed by bush fires, others were sold. The area gradually became the centre of a small town and it was renamed Carnarvon in an attempt to erase the hated convict stain.

By the 1920′s the draw of the Penal Colony as a tourist attraction had been recognized and the town was renamed Port Arthur and the tourism encouraged.

It was an amazing day, a real eye opener into the history of the convicts. So many stories I could not put them all in this post. We spent 6-7 hours totally absorbed in this amazing place and it only cost $27 for a pension pass, this included the 40 minute interpretation walk and a 20 minute cruise to the Isle of the Dead, and this would also enable us to go back for a second day. Great value.

Travel Theme : Pathways into the convict past of Tasmania

Today I headed south from Hobart on the “convict trail” that leads me back into the 1800′s and into the horrific reality that was the penal system set up to receive the criminals from the over-flowing English goals.

The Tasman Peninsular was the chosen site to build an unescapable prison to house the worst of the murderers and re-offenders. The site was ideal because the only way in was via a very narrow causeway. To prevent escape by this path a line of 18 savage dogs were chained.

 

 

 

Path to the dog lines

 

If the prisoner tried to escape this is what they would find waiting for them

No prisoner was known to escape and get past the dogs

Description of dogs given in 1837

 

We have slowly driven along the peninsular. The weather, again, was perfect and we managed to safely pass the dog lines and find a bed for the night as tomorrow we will be going inside the notorious Port Arthur Penal Colony.

I was reminded of Ailsa’s travel theme when I walked along this board-walk pathway today.

This is just a short post as we are on the road at the moment and I will tell you more when we get back to base.

In the mean-time click here to follow more pathways and byways that other bloggers have been down.

 

 

 

Out and About Budget Style

Another perfect day, the sun was shining the air was crisp and clear. I felt like exploring, but with no car the alternative was to use the local buses.

So armed with information from the Metro Shop, timetables and of course my camera I sallied forth.

Seven Mile Beach sounds interesting. It is a half hour drive, out through the suburbs and into the country. I am the only passenger on the bus and enjoy the front seat view and chatting to the driver/chauffeur. As a child he lived in this area and told me some interesting details.

The bus would be back in an hour, excellent time for a walk along the beach.

7 Mile Beach

 

Beautiful reflections

Ripples in the sand

It was a beautiful beach to walk along and I found some interesting shells. Notice how dry the hills look. Tasmania is the second driest capital city and at the moment they need rain, but I am pleased it isn’t raining today.

At the end of the beach is an all in one shop/take away/ garage and I stopped for a coffee. Sitting in the sun I watched the locals walking by with their dogs.

Then it was back to Hobart.

Next place I planned to find was Risdon Cove.

This is the historical site of the first landing of Europeans in Tasmania in 1803. It was quite difficult to find out any details about it. Being so important to the settling of Australia I was expecting to find interesting artefacts, monuments and information boards.

I had 45 minutes before the bus left, time for another coffee and a muffin.

This bus was full, I was surprised. Not really sure where the destination was I thought I would stay on till I either saw a monument or arrived at the end of the bus route, assuming a cove would be a dead-end.

Wrong….

When every one else had got off the bus I asked the driver about Risdon Cove.

“Oh I don’t actually go right past, but I can put you off at the round-about and you can walk approximately a kilometre to the site. It’s owned by the Aboriginals now” he said.

Well he put me off at the round-about which was in the middle of no-where and pointed out which road to walk along. I had to hurry to get across 2 lanes of heavy traffic and walked along the side of the road wondering what the drivers rushing by in their insulated world on wheels would make of this old lady wandering along. No one stopped to ask.

The road wound around a valley with bush clad slopes on either side. I couldn’t see very far ahead. Should I keep going or turn back? Would I see anything when I got there? I almost gave up, then I spotted a sign with a very prominent Aboriginal flag displayed. YES, I had arrived, but arrived at what? A building with children at play, another building that looked like a meeting hall. No sign of a museum and information centre I had read about in an old Lonely Planet book. Then I noticed the signs, they all told of the Aboriginal side of the “invasion” of the white man. There is two sides to every story and the Aboriginals were massacred in Tasmania and deserve recognition. But also the settlers should have acknowledgment at such a historical site.

I followed the track past a beautiful stream, the herons and ducks stalked the fish and the reflections created a tranquil atmosphere. Over a bridge. the monument to John Bowen who landed here with a group of convicts and soldiers in 1803 is surrounded by posters of Aboriginal protests and the handing over of the land in 1995. The historic landing-place is covered in weeds and deteriorating. I walked up the hill to the place the first house was built and could only see a portion of the foundations and a few bricks strewn around.

It was an interesting experience. I was on my own in this historic place and I could feel and visualize the past. The strangeness for both cultures of the other parties. Even today with the sound of the traffic roaring by on the road below it has a feeling of remoteness. The views across the Derwent river where Hobart now stands, in 1803 would be bush and gum trees.

Destination around the back of the hill

 

Can you see the white herons?

Dinner time for the herons

 

Monument to John Bowen surrounded by Aboriginal posters

 

Historic landing stage, very neglected, as a statement by the Aboriginals

 

The place were Restdown, the name given to the first house built on this site 1833

 

These foundations are all that is left of the original first building

 

Imagine what this would look like 200 years ago before Hobart was built

 

Poster of the hand over of the land 1995

 

This is a controversial place and I walked back along the road to catch the bus with very mixed feelings. To me this place even with all its neglect and desolation was beautiful, it had a spiritual aura. The large number of water birds in the unpolluted stream, the reflections of the trees giving a feeling of peace. It touched me more than the pristine museums with the exhibits laid out under glass and carefully labelled.

It was an interesting day and the best part? It only cost me $3-20 for my concession day pass and the price of 2 coffees and a muffin. That is budget travelling.

I checked it out on Google, the history is certainly controversial. You can read a version of it here 

 

 

 

Weekly Photo Challenge : Escape = Freedom

The definition I think of for escape is “to get away”. To leave your day-to-day life, in your safe and comfortable harbour, and set sail for places unknown.

So this is my interpretation of this weeks photo challenge. Click here to see how other bloggers escape

In 2010 that opportunity came when we bought Matilda, our ticket to freedom, our licence to escape and go where ever the wind would blow us.

Leaving home March 2010 in Matilda

 

Australia here we come….

Matilda is our home, our transport and our ticket to adventure. We have meandered around Australia for 3 years now. Spending short spells back home then off again. My gypsy soul loves this lifestyle. The people we meet, the beautiful and very varied scenery, the endless photo opportunities. Life never gets boring.

The road less travelled

Freedom camping on the banks of rivers

Waking up to glorious sunrises

 

Cooking over an open fire and eating under the stars

Waking up to an ethereal, misty morning

 

Sunsets over lakes

The many sunsets are perfect endings to the day spent discovering this amazing country I call home, Australia.

We are so lucky to be able to travel in safety and with freedom in this land. It is such a huge and diverse country that we will never run out of places to explore.

 

 

 

 

Saturday is Salamanca Market day

          Saturday dawned fine and sunny, the rain had cleared a

perfect day to visit Salamanca markets.

But first to take the dogs for their morning run along the beach.

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“Set on Hobart’s historic waterfront, Salamanca Market is  Australia’s biggest, brightest and best outdoor market. Every Saturday, the Georgian warehouses of Salamanca Place look down on a bustle of colour and music, as visitors and locals come to meet, eat and pick up a bargain or two. Market stalls and vendors sell everything from hot baked potatoes to antiquarian books, from hand-carved craft in Tasmania’s specialty timbers to sheepskin boots. The fresh fruit and vegetable stalls are simply superb – this is the place to grab the makings of a perfect Tasmanian picnic. Buskers entertain the crowds – on a typical day you might hear blues guitar, barbershop quartets, Irish harp, classical violin and the music of the Andes. Open 8:30am to 3pm, the market is an outstanding cultural experience”

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Well that is what the web page tells you.

It was on my list of must do while I am here. I love all types of markets, craft markets, farmers markets, flea markets, car boot sales they all have an appeal and charm that I cannot resist. Salamanca Markets are said to be the biggest in Australia with over 300 stalls, spread out over one kilometre, surrounded by mature plane trees, that at this time of the year are clad in glorious autumn foliage, in front of the beautiful sandstone, Georgian warehouses that also house craft shops, art galleries, restaurants, pubs and coffee shops.

I hopped aboard the local bus in anticipation of an interesting and photogenic few hours.

As I followed the crowds all heading in the direction of the markets it started to spit with rain.

Oh no! The morning had been so fine and with a clear blue sky I had expected a sunny day. I had not brought an umbrella with me.

The rain increased and I discovered that the awnings outside the art galleries and restaurants  had heaters under them. So I stood and dried off and warmed up with a crowd of other people who had also forgotten to bring umbrellas.

Gradually the rain stopped. The distinctive sound of bagpipes from nearby  drew me out from the heat of the awning. A very energetic and talented mother and daughter were giving a spirited display of sword dancing to the drone of the pipes.

So my market experience started.

The market is huge. Despite the rain the crowds were large. I can only imagine how crowded they would be in the tourist season of December to March. I enjoyed the people watching, listening to buskers, admiring the many and varied stalls, walking through the warehouses looking at the art and craft, some paintings I liked, some I really wondered if any one would buy them. I wandered around eating hot chips from a paper bag. The sun stayed hidden behind threatening grey clouds but the rain stayed away for the rest of the day.

Every one sheltering till the rain stops

As the rain stops it is time for a chat

More sausages

The Georgian ware houses in the back ground

Love all things lavender

Fresh colourful vegies

Have you heard of Super Woman?

Here comes Wonder Woman

Ah hot soup, perfect to warm you up

Irish jig music, but it is cold for thr fingers

Do I really need this?

So much to choose from

Every one enjoys a sausage in a bun

Beautiful, gentle guitar music

The stalls stretch on and on

 I did enjoy the markets. Even on a grey and overcast day,  with every one dressed for the cold it did not dampen spirits and the music and buzz created that distinctive atmosphere that I so love about markets.

I did not see all the stalls, so I have promised myself that I will visit again and try to go on a sunny day.

I walked back to the bus through the historic St. David’s park. The autumn leaves are falling rapidly now and soon the bare branches of winter will be here and all that glorious autumn colour will just be a memory in my photos.

Historic St. David’s park

Autumn leaves