Feb. 19 Day 4 Cartgena to Minca

Weak wifi tonight so no pictures again.

We got up early to another lovely rooftop breakfast and then packed our bags for our trip to Minca.  Filipe outdid himself with a history lesson, commentary for the towns and landscapes we were travelling through and a cumbia soundtrack.  We passed through fields of brown grass as apparently El Nina had extended their dry season.  This was followed by lots of mangroves where Wendy identified white egrets and finally mountains that almost sprung out of nowhere, turning the road into a series of switchbacks as we headed up to our mountain hotel where the environment was rainforest. 
 We went through the largest coastal city in Columbia, Barranquila, where the national football team played matches and many towns with cinderblock and steel roofed buildings for living and the roadside markets that reminded us of the Philippines.
 Our hotel had a balcony overlooking the forest with hummingbird feeders clustered with dozens of the little critters.  In Canada we only have the ruby-throated one but these were all different colours and constantly flittering about. 
 We took a walk through the town which was more touristy than I expected.  Many non-Columbians were about and bars and restaurants were plentiful.  The motorbike is the main mode of transport here, which meant that pedestrians had to be even more vigilant than usual. 
 Most of the group signed up to take a yoga class and so we followed our instructor, Alex, on a walk into the jungle to his studio.  He was tall, Russian and looked like a yoga teacher with his beard, height and ponytail.  One of our group referred to him as the "Rasputin of yoga" which made us laugh because it was so true.  His studio was an open stage facing a mountain view and it was awesome being there and hearing jungle noises and seeing the sun set.  I should not have gone, however, as I had forgotten about my double-pinched nerve and many poses would aggrivate it.  Several times Alex encouraged me to bend more and assume positions and I just had to tell him "No!", as I did not want  a recurrence of the blinding pain I experienced when the injury was fresh.  At least my incompetence made the others feel better about their performance. 
 After yoga we headed to a bar with local beer and decent food.  There was a dog hanging around our table who ended up having half a burger and a decent amount of quesadilla for his troubles.
 After dinner we walked back, unfurled our mosquito net, got some reading done and went to sleep.

Feb. 18 - Day 3

Travellers in front of the fort.

Feb. 18 Day 3
 At 7 we went up to the rooftop patio for breakfast.  There was the fruit, cereal and eggs that you would expect but interestingly they had rice, chicken stew and lentils.  Everything was nice and luxurious.
 At 8:30 we hopped on our bus and met Elvaro, our guide for the day.  He was the master of the dramatic pause and answered all questions with a flourish.  We started at the huge fort that defended the city from British pirates.  It was made of a mixture of limestone and coral, which could be seen in all of the walls.  Our guide went through all of the design features that confounded the Cartagenian enemies.  He credited the fort's success to the Italian designers as they had fought off the Ottomans and so knew how to put together a solid fort.

A typical aisle of the market.

Next we headed to an actual local market, which was haphazard and buzzing with activity.  There were tons of fresh fish, fruit and vegetables from stall that were all built of their own design.  Men were running around pushing shopping carts with bumpers to shift merchandise.  Some stalls had huge pots of bubbling food and the concrete floor was strewn with garbage and discarded bit of produce.  Our guide informed us that the whole place was going to be torn down in a few years to make way for a resort and so many stalls were closed down while the owners waited for the expected government settlement upon demolition rather than sell their unwanted stall to someone else.  There were no other tourists here and it was by far the most authentic-feeling place we have seen in Cartagena.
We got on the bus to head back to the old city.  Every time we boarded everyone sighed at being back in the air conditioning as Cartagena is very hot and humid pretty much always.  We had a walking tour through Getsemani, which was the working class area of the old city but has now gentrified but with smaller houses.  He talked about the various battles for freedom and the significant slave trade.  Apparently much Peruvian and Mexican gold was held here before heading back to Spain and was used to build major structures in town, so someone quipped, "so the Mexicans really did pay for this wall to be built."
 After the tour we tipped and said goodbye to our city guide.  Meg cornered him to find out where to buy a raincoat and was given an address a short ride from the old city.  We stocked up on cash at an ATM as Filipe warned us that at all of our other stops in Columbia ATMs and restaurants accepting Visa would be hard to find.  We had a nice lunch of filled pastries with mango and corozo juice.  We then hailed a cab and headed to the address the guide had given Meg.
 The cab let us off at a large market filled with various tables.  We wandered around for awhile with all of the vendors hailing us and showing off their wares.  when we asked about raincoats they frowned and sometimes gave a name to ask for but nothing really worked.  we crossed the street to a fancy mall but they just suggested that we go back to the market.  Finally we found a place that had one plastic poncho under a covered rack, perhaps the last one in Columbia.  Meg got talking to the girl who found it for us and she has just been working there for a month with her aunt after she left Venezuela, where she had been studying law.  Meg gave her our contact info and we left with the poncho and a pair of flip-flops for Wendy.
 The market was about a block away from the large, sandy beach that outlines modern Cartagena.  It was a near-endless line of umbrellas and lounging chairs occasionally broken by lava boulder breakwaters.  We were offered chairs, drinks and water toys but the most persistent vendors were the massage women who would come around and grab you hand, feeling the muscles of your arm and rubbing some cream into your skin.
 We took a cab back to the old city and hit the museum of modern art again.  It was not opening from siesta until 3pm which gave us 45 minutes to hang out in the square.  Meg got brave and bought some fruit from a colourfully dressed woman who let us take her photo with the fruit purchase.  When we first entered the city  we saw some of these traditionally dressed women nd one yelled at the car ahead of us and walked away from it, probably because the passengers were taking her picture without paying or asking.  These women were all very tough looking and could probably take most tourists in a fair fight if they didn't pay for their photos.
 Finally the museum was open and we saw modernist, cubist stuff in the first room.  The next featured a local artist who was more quirky in his art and had a lot of carvings of large women doing everyday tasks.  Upstairs was a wild diorama with lots of toys babies falling out of the sky and Mandrake the Magician showing a book to upset-looking women with strings coming out of their heads and connecting to plastic bugs at the bottom of the work.  There was some other nice stuff too and the building was a wonderful old something or other that opened onto the city wall overlooking the harbour.
 We walked back to the hotel and grabbed some gelato along the way.  Meg pined over a chess set at a local vendor but decided to wait before purchasing it.  Back in the room I found that the unlock code for our phone didn't work for the SIM card Meg had purchased in the market but I was able to message Freedom and get it fixed.  Then Meg napped and  I typed this.
 We went out to a pricey but tasty restaurant with inattentive waiters with bluetooth clips on their ears.  Meg had to ask three times for hot water for her tea until I asked once and she got it.  We also had a good talk with our fellow traveller Andrea who had just spent two weeks in Patagonia on a trip similar to the one we were planning and so got some good advice and saw some nice pictures.  Meg was definitely into the idea of frolicking with penguins on an island close to the bottom of Argentina.
 On the way back from dinner Meg decided to buy her chess set but all the shops on that street had closed for the night.  As we got ready for bed we found an old episode of Game of Thrones on the tv and so were in good spirits when we went to sleep.

Day 2 - Cartagena

Feb. 17 Day 2 - Blogger has decided that it won't let me post pictures today so it's just text.
 We woke up well-rested and headed up the rickety, steep stairs to our rooftop breakfast.  The view was excellent and the boy serving us was careful to get every utensil in the right place.  The food was good and we tried to use our limited Spanish with the staff.  When Meg tipped the cook she was also very she about receiving the money.
 Back in our rooms we watched a Chilean morning program and repacked our backpacks.  We dropped our stuff off at our new hotel(we arrived a day before our trip group started so that we could get a direct flight) and tried to find money.  After two machines said they couldn't contact our bank we saw a bank crowded with tourists, a good sign.  Success!
 Next it was off to the Museum of Cartagena in the Palace of the Inquisition.  It's a small museum that informed us that it was under renovation and lost a lot of its collection in the troubled 90s.  There were about 4 rooms per floor with the first one focusing on human rights and the inquisition and the second on the history of the city.  Each room had one explanation in English but we had to use our terrible interpretive skills to figure out what the artifacts were.  The models on the second floor were nice and the huge park area of the museums with stocks and gallows were weird but not a whole lot to see here.
 The Museum of Modern Art was our next stop but it didn't open until 4pm on Sundays , to accommodate church and siesta time we figured.  Now we were hunting lunch and landed in a small place offering a vegetarian lunch.  The two helpers in the restaurant couldn't tell us what it was or how much it cost so that chef had to come out and set things straight.   This place seemed more authentic than our previous restaurant, serving us vegetable rice with beans and fried bananas.  The hot sauce de la casa was excellent and no one was disappointed with their grub.
 Meg was up for a nap at this point but the hotel still wasn't ready for us so we walked to the playa.  It was outside the city walls with tall waves smashing on large volcanic boulders.  We walked through a little park where two people were sleeping under bushes nd a statue devoted to gannets (alcatraz in Spanish).  We walked back along the city wall, which seemed low for a defensive wall but maybe had lost height over time, and began to feel the heat. 
 Back at the hotel, the rooms were ready and so we settled in before our G Adventures launch meeting on the rooftop patio at 6 pm.  We arrived and met our guide and 14 co-tourists.  We were expecting to amongst the oldest in the group but were more in the middle.  In the middle of Filipe's presentation fireworks started going off behind him, which was a nice touch.  Most of the group had been travelling for a week already and we were the replacements.  It amused them that they lost, then gained a Canadian couple and a Swiss woman. 
 We walked to a restaurant and found the people we spoke to as being pleasant with many people being seasoned travellers.  We had a mojito made from corozo, a local tart berry, which went down really well.  We had been drinking the tap water but our guide advised that we switch to bottled.  Confusingly he was fine with the sliced fruit sold on the street, which is usually listed as one of the first things you are not supposed to touch.  So far our stomachs are alright.
 Back from the restaurant it was straight to bed as we were to have an early start the next day.

Day 1 Toronto to Cartagena

Wendy suggested that I get these up quickly.  Our laptop has a small memory and came with a crappy read-only version of Word so I'm using Wordpad which doesn't have editing tools.  Placing it quickly trumps placing it edited three months later.
Feb. 16 Day 1
 After many exhausting days of getting our house packed up and signed over to our leasees we thanked Derek and Hayley for letting us crash at their place and driving us to the airport.  Lineups were short and Wendy(Owen's sister) was at the gate.  The only stress came when I checked my g-mail and found that I had booked a hotel in Patagonia for Feb. 17 instead of March 17 and worked on correcting that problem.
 On the plane, the woman sitting next to us was willing to trade seats with Wendy so we got to sit together.  The only bad things about it was that we were last row so our seats had no reclinability.  After a few hours we needed to stretch our legs and so met up with our new friend, blue-coiffed Sticky.  She works with an agency dealing with drug addiction so had lots to talk about with Wendy and Meg and also was the bassist in Weeping Tile, amongst other projects so lots more to chat about.  The whole flight was pretty painless and they handed out Kitkats with lunch.
 Cartagena customs was overstaffed as it appeared that half of the officers were just texting on their phones.  That was because one officer took our $90 entry fee and the other looked at the receipt for that fee and then stamped our passports.  Wendy had left her customs slip on the plane but the woman taking the slips didn't want to find a new blank one for her and so changed the family of two slip (Meg and mine) to a family of 3 slip. 
 The instructions for getting a cab were clearly posted, which gave us some relief and two of our co-travellers on our Peru trip were car-jacked upon their arrival.  The taxi took us mainly along the coast until we went through a gate through some only city walls into the old city of Cartagena, UNESCO heritage site.  Our first impression was that it was a labyrinth of one-way and closed streets with vendors walking everywhere and taxis honking at stopped vehicles and potential customers.  Our hotel had basic, clean rooms and setup with a wonderful courtyard area filled with palm trees, flowers and disassembled scaffolding.  
 Meg needed a nap so Wendy and I went out exploring.  The sidewalks were narrow and sometimes blocked, forcing us onto the roads where the traffic was busy but slow-moving.  We saw a park where these yellow-breasted birds flew like bats as they tried to eat big bugs.  There were beggars that offered you a candy presumably in exchange for a handout.  Vendors constantly offered you their wares but left you alone once you said no, which made the process much less threatening than when we travelled in Egypt and Morocco.  Most of the restaurants offered pizza and many had touts promoting them, which in our experience has meant mediocre, overpriced food.  We saw plants along the street completely covered in cages, which I suppose would protect them but cancelled out any beautification value. 

Prisons for plants.

We saw some dancers by the city wall that were always finishing up their routine when we peeked over to see what they were up to.  There was a market where stall after stall displayed cookies and candy and many of the candies looked like multi-coloured sea urchins.

 Back at the hotel we woke Meg up and got advice from the guy at the front desk.  Yes we could drink the tap water (although this is much debated online), no we could not put toilet paper in the toilet and the place to experience Columbian food was the Plaza de Santa Dominga, so off we went. 
 The plaza was a large one across from a church ad was set up with outdoor tables and roaming touts.  We looked for options around the square but all of the tables were served by one pizza joint.  We then went to a seafood restaurant that overlooked the square and watched to fun.  There were musicians circulating with guitars and accordions offering to serenade tables.  All of the people receiving their services looked happy so I don't think they forced themselves on anyone.  There seemed to be a code as when one band started up the others took a break so there was rarely more than one song going on at a time.  There was an amatuerish belly dancer and a very good group of break dancers who put on shows in the middle of the square for about 5 minutes and then went around to the tables with a hat.  We were glad to be above the square as there was a constant flow of vendors selling knick knacks, noisemakers and glow sticks circulating amongst the tables.  There were also two Spider Mans and a Bat Man but they just seemed to be hanging around.  The other attraction in the square was a reclining statue of a large naked woman whose buttocks were shiny from being rubbed.  This seemed to be THE photo spot on the square. Our food was overpriced and just okay (are rock lobsters always dry of did they cook it wrong?).  Our waiter was ethically sketchy as he insisted that the SV 10% on our bill wasn't for service but was a tax.  He also told us the line wasn't working for Visa and so we needed to pay cash.  Hmmm.
 We were wiped, so we strolled back early and went to bed, glad for the air conditioning.

The square: half diners and half entrepreneurs.

The intrepid travellers.

We're off again, woohoo!

We’re about ready to travel again and so we’re resurrecting our blog!  I see that last time we got just over a month into our year-long trip before the postings stopped.  Hopefully we’ll do better this time, but no promises!

Our basic 6-month itinerary is Columbia, Chile/Argentina, Easter Island, Tahiti, Australia, Indonesia, Bhutan, India, Sri Lanka, North Korea (maybe), South Korea, Japan, Canada.

Everything past Tahiti is flexible, we’d love to meet up with fellow travellers so let us know if you want to meet up along our route or if we can change ours to see you!

Can you pick out Meg and I from this group?

Everest base camp, Tibetan side!

At this point we are reminded how many roots we have put down in our daily lives that need to be dealt with before we can escape for any length of time.  Shots and insurance need to be taken care of.  House, car, cat, and services all need to be dealt with and they don’t always work out easily.  As I write this, we still haven’t rented out our house (6-month lease and furnished are both drawbacks) and are living in a kind of flux as half of our belongings are in storage.  When we returned last time, we thought we’d purge so many of our possessions as we’d lived without them just fine for a year.  Having a basement with shelving does mean that ones fills it up with stuff that you hope will be of some use in the distant future.  It’s a good thing I’m on leave as dealing with all of this and working at the same time would suck!

Anyway, please let us know if you’re travelling near us and we’ll make an effort to keep the blog in better shape this time around.

This is a link to all of the videos we posted from our last trip!

Tasmania's Top Treasures Traversed!

Sunday Nov. 6– Freycinet National Park- Tasmanian Treasure- “Top Ten” Beach

Unfortunately, the brats also got up early and made as much noise as possible doing this. They were leaving as we got up and good riddance. We had breakfast and said goodbye to the group of women, as none of us were spending another night there.

Our objective today was to hike the most popular trail, the Wineglass Bay lookout path. We drove to the trail-head and started our hike behind several busloads of South East Asian tourists, fortunately adults this time. For a popular trail it was surprisingly challenging, with a long ascension along stone steps. There were a few stopping points to look back and the trail wisely forked so that you came and went along different ways. We walked for about half and hour and then hit an area of trail work with the workers on break, watching the hikers trying to catch their breath.

Wineglass Bay close up, brave swimmers in cold water.

The lookout itself had only a small space for gazing out, due to the renovation. More people were quickly going up and having their pictures taken than actually looking around, but I guess that's par for the course. The view was so perfect it was like gazing at a postcard, on a sunny day. Actually, it was a bit too sunny as the summer-like temperatures made for quite sweaty climbing when great elevations are concerned.

We headed down from the lookout to the beach and were preceded by some kids who had chosen to hike the trail barefoot and were probably regretting it, as after the lookout it was clear but rocky and rough. We were also passed by some teenaged boys running past at full speed, obviously some Aussie coming-of-age ritual that we dared not interfere with.

Mom and Joey, unfazed by the paparazzi.

At the beach, some people were swimming, which looked great when you're sweaty from a long hike, but they generally splashed around for a bit and got out, as just a few sunny days does not a warm sea make. The beach was quite deserving of its apparent “top 10 in the world” reputation that everyone kept quoting. The water was a clear blue and the sand was pure white and it made a nice arc along the coast, Australia truly spoils one (ho hum, another perfect beach) after a while. We walked around the rocks at the end of the beach, had a rest and took photos. On our way out, a wallaby with a joey in pouch was poised by the beach while everyone gathered around, snapping shots. So, being good tourists, we did too.

Slowly we started making our way back up the steep slope in the heat of the day. It was long but we were grateful for the downward slope. We headed back to the hostel, grabbed our gear and were on our way to Launceston. We stopped again at Friendly Beach to check out the view of that long piece of sand and then hit the road.

View of Friendly Beach, almost completely deserted.

We ignored the GPS and set our own route along what looked like a more substantial route from our map. Fat chance. The road was the worst one yet, in really rough shape, and kept getting narrower and narrower. Fortunately we met few locals coming the other way, as they tended to barrel along at full tilt. We crawled along the narrow switch-backing roads along cliff faces with dodgy-looking guardrails, sounding the horn around corners to avoid a full head-on collision.

Eventually our elevation lessened, the road straightened and our pace hastened. Meg slept through the worst part thanks to her motion sickness pills, but still took a painfully slow shift behind the wheel.

Ghastly Ghosts of Launceston Town...

We arrived at our comfortable, quiet hostel, the Launceston Backpackers, in Launceston. The evening was full of excitement such as shopping, laundry and food preparation and eating. Then we headed downtown for our much anticipated Ghost Tour.

The walk was a little intimidating, as the town had a rough look to it and walking along the main pedestrian area left us almost completely on our own on a Sunday night. We made it safely and caught some cool public art along the way. They had these huge brightly-coloured fibreglass cushions that said things when you sat down heavily on them. There was probably a spot to record for the cushions nearby, as most of the sounds were kids giggling and making vaguely rude noises.

We showed up at the starting place, a hotel/pub, plenty early and had fancy coffees while we waited. We looked hopefully at everyone who stopped there and eventually were rewarded when a cluster of people gathered and a small, round woman crossed the street and announced herself as being our guide. We were a small group, with ourselves, a family on vacation, a couple from Queensland and a friend of the guide who was getting a freebie. The tour was pretty cool, taking us into basements and dark corners just off lane-ways. The whole thing ended in an old garage which used to be a stable. This area had sound effects and dummies to add to the atmosphere as well as a nice bookend to the first story we heard. There were rolling mannequin heads and a banging coffin, all sorts of good stuff. Many stories were good, and many were just odd, unresolved things that actually sounded like they might have happened. An offshoot of the tour was that it got us walking around a different part of the downtown and we got to see some really nice streets with well-maintained buildings, rose gardens, and nice homes. The town had some lovely architecture! Who knew?

The walk back was dark but ultimately uneventful and it was bedtime by then, so we slept and slept well.

Monday – CLIMBING THE CATARACT/ RASBERRY FARM TREATS

We got up, ate packed and headed out to the Cataract Gorge, a natural scenic spot right in the city. In packing, we were much disturbed by finding that some of the laundry we left on the line the previous night had been shat upon by some nasty Tassie birds. Lacking a gun, all we could do was hand-clean them and drape them over the backseat to dry. After parking the car we hiked up a fairly steep trail that followed the narrow river cutting through the park area to the lake. There were some nice views from the highest point of the trail. We continued on through a developed park area with a pool and across a narrow bridge to return along the other side. It's a great place for the locals, with many people using it for jogging or to visit the adjoining botanical gardens. It was nice for a tourist destination, but far from spectacular. We amused ourselves by poking about in some shallow caves and figuring out the route of the old walkway, which was much closer to the water and much more vulnerable to the floods described at info points along the walk.

We drove for a few hours, stopping off at a raspberry farm Cousin Pam had suggested, for lunch. This was a busy tourist spot along a rural road that had tasty food and a lush setting to while away an afternoon while sipping a raspberry fizz and indulging in raspberry shortcake. However, we had a fair distance to go, so we hastily returned to the car, heading towards Cradle Mountain/Lake St. Clair National Park. In typical Tasmanian fashion, the roads became narrower, twistier, and rougher as we headed away from major centres. We took a nice break in a small town (can't remember the name) to pick up some groceries, as the guide book warned us that there were few supplies at the mountain and what there was was way overpriced. It turned out to be quite a nice town that had decided a few years ago to become the “town of murals” and had dozens of them around the town. This attraction had made it a bit of a tourist destination, so buildings were spruced up, and a visitors centre rented audio guides to the paintings. The murals on the buildings around the supermarket were certainly well done and depicted various aspects of Tasmanian history.

Cradle Mountain- Dove Lake Loop

After another hour of progressively more dangerous roads, we arrived at Cradle Mountain. We checked into our hostel which was an empty dorm building in a Discovery Holiday Parks Campground with shared facilities. We made a quick stop to the visitors' centre and then headed up to the most scenic short hike in the park, the Dove Lake loop. The drive up was along a road often only wide enough for one car,where you were constantly sounding your horn. At one point we had to reverse to let a bus come the other way. We drove past some ranger stations and little lakes and the road ended at the parking lot for our trail. We entered our route into a logbook so that they could find us if we collapsed into the foliage and set out. It was about 4 pm so we had just enough time to hike the loop before sundown. It was very well blazed, with wooden walkways over the marshy bits and stairs to aid going up and down. Early on there was a short side trail that took you to a rocky outcrop that provided great views over the water and up into the mountains. It rains 7 out of 10 days in the area, so we were lucky to have this clear, sunny afternoon to have our hike. The loop was an easy walk,but with the ever-shifting perspectives of mountains on water as well as the slowly lengthening shadows it was well worthwhile. The famous Overland Trek in the park goes from the Dove Lake area up into the mountains for 7-9 days and out at the other end of the park. We would have loved to have done it but it still got plenty cold at night and we had no proper gear, so the loop was fine. We met a few people along the way, but not many, and everyone was friendly. There were warnings to stay on the trail, as some plants were so delicate that it would take them 30 years to recover from being stepped on. Most people respected this, but a French family ahead of us was going all over the place. It's bad enough for adults to be ignorant, but modelling it with children is much worse and was the only downer of the hike.

Cradle Mountain and Dove Lake on our only clear day.

We returned just when we should have and drove back in the gathering dusk. We cooked up a decent meal in our kitchen only to be later offered a free meal from a tour group using the second kitchen who cooked way too much food. The group's arrival meant that we no longer had the whole building to ourselves, but the group must have been on a fairly busy pace, and they all conked out early.

Tuesday – Cradle Mountain- Misty Hiking

We got up in the grey drizzle and headed out after breakfast. It was a 3 hour loop trail that we almost completely had to ourselves. About half of it was along wooden walkways as otherwise we'd have been tramping through marsh the whole way. The trail started in an open field and then followed a waterfall under low bush. It emerged at a lake's edge which we saw later was under spectacular mountains but we could barely make out the other shore through the mist. We scaled a small hill and started the trail back. The walkways were in much worse shape and in several places we had to teeter along the remaining support beams from rotted paths to cross small marshes. We passed a few small lakes and then headed back along new walkways until the loop was completed.

We headed back to the cabin and it was hard to warm up as the power was on a switch that didn't click on until 5 pm. After a busy lunch with many others in the kitchen lunch Meg went into nap mode and I headed out to try the park's shuttle system and a few of the remaining trails. I took the bus out to the same starting point as before but this time I headed back towards the interpretation centre along a 10km walkway. I had just missed a bus and so had to wait 10 minutes for the next one and was still the only one on it. The driver was really nice and talked about all of the places in Australia he had worked at and that the walkway covered up unsightly water and power lines and so was multiply useful. The walkway made for a fast 10k, it took only 90 minutes to cover it. I had it almost all to myself, only encountering a half dozen people close to the centre. The trail went through some nice countryside and it was pleasant to watch the mist slowly lift as the day went on. It went over a few hills and could have been navigated by a wheelchair as long as the thing had good brakes. The walk also took me by a discontinued trail that just followed a muddy stream up over a hill.

At the interpretation centre there was an environment trail which just put mildly informative stations around an uninteresting path. A short path led to the road via a nice waterfall view and the “Enchanted Walk” trail followed a stream up and down from the woods with nice plastic crawl houses with activities for kids. The nicest trail was set off from the rest where you took some steps into a valley and it was like entering another world. The light was dim and the trees were all covered with moss, much of it hanging off the branches. The trail continued for about ten minutes and ended at a large waterfall and then picked up on the discontinued trail, which was a thin unblazed line into the woods.

More typical Cradle Mountain weather.

Back at the centre it was past closing time so I took the bus back to the main office and walked back to the cabin. Meg had slept well and the power had come back on so all was well. The kitchen was again full of people but we managed to reheat and eat. They all seemed to be part of visiting groups except for a German woman who was travelling on her own and we compared notes with her while we ate.

Finally, it's November! Welcome to Tasmania!

Tuesday, November 1– Tasmania at the end of the world (at one time)

Grumpily, we got up and had to take a long time getting out of there as they have serious plant and animal restrictions entering Tasmania and they check your engine and trunk for smuggled goods. We then motored down to Hobart, Meg doing some napping but both of us bleary-eyed and cranky. The GPS got us close but couldn't tell us the exact location of the restaurant where we were to meet Pamela (Carolyn's twin sister). We looked around the site of the MONA (Museum of Old and New art) and it said it was closed, so we drove down the road just looking for places to eat. This was the sort of random operation that seems like a good idea when you're over-tired. More sensibly, we called Pamela and organized an alternative destination in downtown Hobart.

We had heard that the roads in Tasmania were small and hazardous, like the ones off the beaten track places in New Zealand, but the main road into Hobart was fine. We found the main tourist strip, which reminded me of the Halifax waterfront. Lots of old buildings preserved in a row with mostly touristy shops and a nice cobblestone pedestrian plaza. We found a good bookshop to wait at and then spotted Pamela and went to a fancy place for lunch. The restaurant was attached to a store that was apparently responsible for keeping salmon on the Tasmanian agenda, so we picked some up for dinner. The restaurant provided us with a delicious lunch, very gourmet, and then we took the 45 minute trip out of town to Pamela's shack.

“Shack” was her word, it was a cottage to us, being compact and less than a minute away from a beach. We arrived there and then had a delightful nap in a bed thick with soft sheets and comforters. After a solid nap, there wasn't enough daylight to start anything ambitious, so we went for a walk along her beach while she pointed out some landmarks. It was beautiful and unfortunately far too cold for a dip. The air in Tasmania is supposed to be the freshest in the world. We got a good lungful and it helped us to wake up. One disturbing aspect of our walk was a sign warning us that the land used to be used by the army and there was the possibility of unexploded ordinance. Not surprisingly, we kept to the path!

Back at the shack, we watched the Melbourne Cup and the winner was my second choice, quite thrilling. I'd never seen a race with more than 20 horses sharing the field, very crowded. Pamela cooked the salmon along with a few other fancy restaurant worthy dishes and we had an excellent meal with good wine and a fine view of the sunset. Being on the water, her place was designed to take full advantage of the scenery, so the place is largely window.

In spite of our nap, we were well ready for bed, thus we slept.

Wednesday – Witnessing History at Ye old Hobart Woman’s Prison

We woke up in our delicious bed and felt almost human again. We took our time over breakfast, planning our tourist moves for the day. We decided to go for a dramatic history presentation, “Louisa's Walk” (being big fans of this kind of thing- something we share with our nephew Eli).

History via two actors, pretty good way to spend an afternoon.

We got to the brewery where the tour originated and saw a woman in period costume hanging around outside with two people, we were in the right place. The venue was outdoors mostly in the grounds of the woman’s prison, using existing benches and the trees and bridges- the piece was written by the two actors who preformed all the roles and props were carried in a basket by the actress- very simple yet effective. This was the story of a young woman who came to London from Ireland and was arrested for stealing a loaf of bread. She played the lead character and another guy played all of the male parts. We followed her as she was taken from her children, moved onto a prison ship on the Thames, shipped to Tasmania, put in a local prison, did forced labour with cruel punishments, worked as a servant in the home of an abusive man, served in the home of someone a little better and got married. Meg called one of the male characters a cruel bastard and the actor defended himself in character (“I gots a job and I'm just doin' it.”). With the rain holding off and a nice small group, it was a really good look at the history of the island from an angle we were unfamiliar with.

Next, we drove back into the city and showed up at a restored old movie theatre just in time to catch “The Hunter”. This was shot and set in Tasmania (around Cradle Mountain- where we were heading) starring Willem Dafoe as a contract hunter looking for the last Tasmanian Tiger. It was atmospheric and a great tourist ad for the place but wasn't really a satisfying film.

We drove back to Pamela's place and the narrow winding roads began to wreak havoc on Meg's belly. We took a quick look at the attractive community of Opossum Bay but then sped home so that Meg could be on stable ground.

Pamela heated up some wonderful scallop pies for dinner and we had a good chat afterwards. I got to bed at a reasonable time but Meg and Pamela got talking family and so stayed up much later than they should have.

In the footsteps of the original inhabitants...

Thurs. - Their late night meant that we got off to yet another slow start. Meg took her Gravol so that we were safe going up to Opossum Bay. We drove until the road ended and Pamela told us of the . Planned golf course that she was supporting that would be built on the open land (she is a keen golfer-not sure that plans would be approved as it appears to be native land and thus pretty controversial, especially given the history of aboriginal genocide in Tasmania). We walked along the beach and looked at the layers of shells spilling out from the eroded sides of the dunes (these shell middens would be evidence of ancient aboriginal settlements). We started up into a field and then decided we wanted to stroll somewhere with more of a beach. We drove to South Arm, where there was a pull-off spot from the road that led to a short path to a long, sandy beach with views of the local islands. We went for a walk along there, enjoying the sand and wishing once again that it was swimming weather.

Pamela needed to sleep, as she was on night shift. We drove into town looking to pick up a copy of Meg’s book for Pamela. Said book was historical fiction from an Aboriginal perspective on the elimination of Aboriginals (a.k.a. genocide,ed.) from Tasmania called Dr. Wooreddy's Prescription for Enduring the End of the World. The bookshop told us it was out of print, so we hit several used book stores. This was dangerous, as we were always trying to avoid books, as we were inclined to pick them up, but they were heavy and took up space. Meg picked up a copy of Enid Blyton's “The Naughtiest Girl Becomes a Monitor”, a classic that I know our readers will be lining up to peruse when we get back. The mission of finding the book was unsuccessful (ABE Books solved this problem later) but it gave us an excuse to wander around downtown Hobart. We stuck to the historical area, which was very similar to Halifax with its mix of fancy shops on the streets and more raggedy ones down alleyways. Lots of hills, too.

We hit a grocery store on the way back as we were on for dinner that night, our famous pasta puttanesca. We cooked, Pamela returned and we fed her and all was fine. We went to bed early as the next day would involve much travelling.

Friday – Port Arthur Prison ...where Star Fleet would have exiled Khan (where the worst of the penal colony criminals were locked up)

We got up not too early and ate a simple breakfast while we packed up. Pamela returned from her shift and we said proper goodbyes to a fine host.

Our destination of the day was Port Arthur, the infamous penal colony that the criminals who were repeat offenders went. It looks close to Hobart on a map but really is quite far and the road kept getting narrower and twistier as we continued along it. We were amused on our travels by a local Tasman Peninsula radio show with a man reading off long lists of small events in an affected tone. He went on at length about going to a local lady's house for a dinner party, using a thesaurus of superlatives about her green salad. He then provided an avalanche of praise for a particularly large banana she brought out, amusing us greatly.

Marveling at "Tessellated Pavement", a natural stony grid.

We stopped along the way at a series of land formations along the coast. A short walk from a rutted parking lot led us to the shore of the tessellated pavement site, a rocky shore area where the stone had broken into a series of near-perfect rectangles. There were signs along the path explaining the natural phenomenon. We drove a little way further to a coastal lookout and then assured ourselves that we would have time to see the others on the way back, as they were just off the road.

Our radio station had now resumed --with overtly enthusiastic descriptions of fairly tedious events (a tax workshop in a community hall basement does not fall under my definition of “an afternoon not to be missed”), but it helped us to pass time as we got onto road where two cars would have to slow down to pass each other. We had arrived at Port Arthur.

Our hosteling cards got us a good discount and we sat down to a decent, if overpriced lunch of soup. With our tickets they gave us each a playing card, which was to be used in the first display. They started you off through a room with mannequins depicting the process prisoners went through, from England to cramped quarters on a ship to lousy conditions in Tasmania. Each playing card corresponded to a convict's story, so you followed yours through (mine was weak and died in a labour camp, sounded like he really was a habitual thief). The information was good and a theatre ran a 15 minute loop going through the parts of the camp with description from those responsible for them.

We caught the film on the way out, as it was time for our guided tour when we spotted the theatre. The guy giving it was a real pro, as we were a large group of about 50 and he needed no amplification to be heard. He went through the areas and history of the camp, which had a section for “normal” townspeople to serve as role models for the prisoners. You had to wonder about some of our fellow tourists, as there were some kids getting bored and the parents had them play loud games right next to the guide, rather than steering them away.

The guide gave us good general information and then we headed off on our own. We went to the quiet prison, where they used psychological warfare to try to break the prisoners. Their cells were reminiscent of monks', not too bad at first sight. The thing was, they were alone in them all the time with only an hour of exercise a day where they paced around a small courtyard with bags over their heads, forbidden to speak. They were to be called only by their numbers. The chapel was set up so that each prisoner stood in a space where they could only see the priest. There were stories about how they would use the singing of hymns to communicate as it was the only time they had noise to cover up conversation.

Meg at prison church - keep away from the other worshipers!

Prison isolation cells, very much like a Kubrick film.

Information was abundant. They had databases for finding relatives (of which one was mine- the latest trend- Australians used to be ashamed of having convict ancestors, now we're proud, ed.), many profiles, explanations of the applied prison rehab theory (which came from an American prison model, always the leaders in making imprisonment even worse), and another movie. We moved on to the hospital, which was little more than a shell of a building. We walked through the guard's area to the commandant’s house. This house had details about what all of the wardens did and how they lived. Many weren't happy to be there and focused more on their gardens than their jobs at Port Arthur. Next was the main prison building, which is under renovation and held together with giant clamps. There was more information there, including how one punishment was to chain prisoners to giant climbers (like evil stair-masters) that ran water mills for 8 hour shifts. If one fell or slowed down during a shift , one could be crushed or killed.

We hurried over to the ferry for our complimentary boat ride. This took us around an island which hosted a boys' reformatory and a smaller one which was a cemetery. The guide tried hard to make it interesting but Meg still had a fine nap (and Owen had a beer).

After that we had to get a move on if we were to make it to our hostel before dark. We walked by the Canadian Cottage (built of materials donated from Canada, not something to be proud of, under the circumstances) and caught the movie on our way out. In retrospect, there's a lot to see there, so spending the night there would have been the thing to do. We hastily skipped the Tasman peninsula sights and just barrelled on. This was a very narrow, twisty road and Meg slept through a lot of it to avoid carsickness. There were very few towns there so we sometimes lost track of where we were, as we turned off the GPS after it kept detouring us onto tiny country roads. Several coastal spots had really nice views, particularly around Catherine Island, but we had to motor on.

We pulled into the peninsula drive just as the sun was going down and we hit Coles Bay with light fading. The Iluka Holiday Centre office was supposed to be closed at 6pm but there was still someone there so we got checked in without difficulty. We reheated the leftover pasta sauce and planned what we wanted to do. A group of women were there having an annual getaway with tons of food, wine and a birthday cake. They were friendly, and out for a good time, yet considerate of other guests. They had lots of experience in the park and so were quite a valuable resource in deciding what to do. We slept pretty well that night.

Sat. Barefoot on the Beach/ Tricky Trekking up Mount Amos...

We got up feeling pretty good and decided to go for a run before breakfast. We'd read about Friendly Beach, a very long stretch of sand 15 minutes back up the road. We drove there to find that it was part of the Park and required a permit, but there was no way to get our hostel discount so we risked it and went ahead anyway. The road soon turned to dirt and headed steeply downhill to a parking lot. Several cars were there already and a cluster of people were watching some surfers do their thing. We ran past them and had pure sand except for one small rocky point for a good 45 minute run. Running barefoot on sand give a low impact run with beach views and wave-dodging to boot. A fine way to start the day.

The rangers didn't catch us so we drove back to the hostel and had breakfast. Meg had decided that she needed a day off, so she lollygagged around the place while I went off to enjoy nature. From our conversations of the night before, I decided to take the Mt. Amos path. It was steep and not too long and was supposed to have some amazing views at the top. When I got my permit they said the day was perfect, as any rain at all closes the trail, but there was no chance of precipitation that day. The drive to the trail-head was treacherous as the road was very narrow but people coming the other way would just speed around corners and expect the other vehicle to shove over.

A long way up...

Wineglass bay, mountaintop view.  Better than your beach?

At the start of the path was a “last chance” water tap and a trek registration book so that they could go hunting for your corpse it you didn't return on time. I was very soon on my own, as few people take this route. I met one couple close to the start of the trail and that was it until I got to the top. The trail was steep but well-blazed for about 15 minutes and then a sign warned you that it got much worse after that point. From then on there was precious little shade and you were hiking over rock face that was often set at a steep angle. The blazes were few and far between and several times I thought I'd have to turn around due to lack of path. A few times the arrows pointed straight up smooth rock face and I chose to ignore them and use a nearby crack in the rock to go up. Still, there were sections where you were hugging the cliff-face and putting up one limb at a time, hoping that something less strenuous was around the corner. I often had to try spotting arrows in the distance and work towards them. In the end, I made it to the top, where an initial summit gave great views back towards the peninsula. I noticed how much of the coastline was sandy beach, including a long one near town that I hadn't noticed.

On more steep, 5 minute climb and the summit was reached, with great views in all directions, including the famous Wineglass Bay. As I sat up there eating my lunch, I heard a couple below me checking out viewpoints. I hadn't noticed them behind me on the way up so either they were quick climbers or they knew of another path. They moved off before I finished chewing so I'll never know.

I had lots of time coming down, so I was cautious as I knew this was where most injuries happened. I slid on my backside on the steepest bits, always keeping a tree or rock or something to break my fall between me and the bottom of the hill. It went fairly quickly, as it didn't require as much effort and the arrows were easier to follow. Towards the bottom I met a family going up and they were only slightly discouraged by my description of what they were about to tackle. Other than that, I met no one else and was very glad to return to the parking lot and refill my bottle. Definitely, it was the most difficult short hike I'd ever done and I felt tired but satisfied at having completed it with no more damage than a scuff on the back of my hiking shorts.

Lighthouse view along the peninsula, nice n ' rocky.

I was saving the main trail for Meg to enjoy the next day, so I decided to check out the other sights in the area before returning. To get to the lighthouse I had to turn off the road to one even narrower, and I took it slowly, honking around corners and going up slopes that made the car strain. The lighthouse itself had an easy, wheelchair-accessible boardwalk that took about 30 minutes to walk around. It had a great view of The Hazards, the collective name for the short mountains at the beginning of the peninsula. I was able to look out to sea and see something grey splashing around and a pack of kayakers paddling around a rocky island. The lighthouse itself was nothing special, but the views up and down the coast were. I finished my sandwich and enjoyed them.

On the way back there was another stop at Sleepy Cove. This was a slightly longer trail that went by a cove with bright blue water and came out at a rocky beach where the rocks had been strangely hollowed by erosion. A nice walk but nothing special.

I drove back along the narrow roads to meet Meg back at the hostel. She wasn't there and the weekend women had no idea where she went. I checked the laundry area and then gave up and headed down to the beach I had noticed from Mt. Amos. There was a wharf and a long beach with lots of people hanging out and a few kids braving the cold water for a splash. Meg met me here and we picked up some beer from the local (overpriced) shop and headed back to the hostel to hang out, this being a down day for her and I had earned a break.

As we sat around, a very loud group of South East Asian youth came to the hostel and got lunch amidst much shouting and few of the younger males trying to impress everyone by shouting over everyone else. They went away on a tour and we spoke to a French fellow (with an Asterix moustache)who lived there and would look at you if you spoke to him and then say nothing for awhile. Meg started talking to this guy from Queensland (who fulfilled many of the Victoria stereotypes about Queenslanders) drinking port from a box. He bragged about not paying park fees and complained about how the park ripped him off at Cradle Mountain (giving information that we later found to be completely untrue). He then went on about the Aboriginals in Cairns, how they raped and robbed everyone and could never be arrested because they all looked the same. I cruelly left Meg alone with the guy but she soon slipped away herself and when I looked into the TV room he was sharing his port with the French guy.

We spent the end of the afternoon lazing about and then got dinner together around the loud group of youth, who had returned and still didn't appear to have a supervisor. After eating we went for a walk on the beach to watch the sun set. After that we had some of our own (superior) port and worked on the computer until bedtime. Sleep was difficult that evening as the youth were up late in the common room shouting and banging. Meg spoke to them once and then a second time ordered them all to go to bed and surprisingly they did. They were loud in their bedrooms but eventually went to sleep.