Weekend at Bicheno

We have just spent a lovely three nights on Tasmania's stunning East Coast. Some weeks ago we booked a room at the Beachfront Hotel in Bicheno and then saw last Friday that rain was forecast for the entire weekend. Fortunately the rain didn't really arrive until Sunday.

We arrived in Bicheno on Friday afternoon and after checking in drove to the Blowhole. It was 21 degrees, the ocean was a spectacular blue-green and the sky was clear. What a beautiful day!

The views from our room

At the Blowhole

On Saturday morning, fearing rain was on the way, we headed early to East Coast Natureworld, just a few kilometres from town, and a sanctuary for injured, sick or orphaned animals, birds and reptiles. Despite a roaring gale we enjoyed wandering through the park and seeing a great selection of Tasmanian animals. We were two of over fifty visitors that morning and the hours just flew by.

Wedge Tailed Eagle

Jim feeding a Forrester Kangaroo

with Cape Barren Geese in the background

Echidna

Emu

Quoll

Tasmanian Devils

Our guide was passionate about his work

and provided us with fascinating information about the Devils

Albino Wallaby

... and my personal favourite - the wombat!

On Sunday we drove to Coles Bay but unfortunately the Hazards in Freycinet National Park were covered in thick fog, so we continued on to Swansea and lunched at the historic Bark Mill Tavern.

It rained all Sunday night and on Monday we had breakfast at the wonderful Blue Edge Bakery in Bicheno before heading home. Despite the weather, it was a fabulous weekend!

 

Let it snow!

 And snow, it did. Last Tuesday night as we were driving to our regular HASH pub meal, I noticed the raindrops on the windscreen were a little heavy, like sleet. Whilst at the pub, one of our friends showed us a video his daughter had just sent of his granddaughters catching snowflakes in their backyard at Prospect Vale. And by the time we arrived home, it was lightly snowing at Riverside.

We went to bed not realising what lay ahead. At 12.45pm I woke and looked outside. It was snowing, really snowing! I woke Jim and grabbed the camera and we both stood under the open garage doors and took photos.

The next time I woke it was still dark and when I glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table I realised we had a blackout, so I got up to light the fire. It was around 5.30am and the light was slowly dawning outside. Our property was a sea of thick, white snow.

I have never lived anywhere where it snowed. And since we are told the last snow event in Launceston took place in the 1970s, we consider ourselves very fortunate to have had this experience! It was an exciting 24 hours, one I'll never forget.

Aussie Animals - collectively

We've all heard of a flock of birds, a colony of bats and a herd of elephants. But did you know our own Australian animals have some pretty interesting collective names:

Bask of crocodiles

Company of king parrots

Convocation of wedge-tailed eagles

Lounge of blue-tongued lizards

Mob of kangaroos

Ostentation of peacocks

Paddle of platypus

Parade of echidnas

Parliament of barn owls

Smack of jellyfish

Wedge of black swans

Wisdom of wombats

As nobody seems to know what we call a group of koalas, I'd like to suggest a Cuddle of koalas!

Giant Sea Creature!

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, its a SIPHONOPHORE, a living organism that floats on the ocean and resembles a giant piece of string. It is closely related to the jellyfish, with the Portuguese man o'war a well-known variety.

This particular Apolemia siphonophore is estimated to have a diameter of nearly 15 metres and is about 47 metres long; longer than the blue whale.

It was recently photographed off the coast of Western Australia and is possibly the largest specimen ever recorded.

Isn't it beautiful!

Animals and the Coronavirus

This week seven animals at the Bronx Zoo in New York City, have fallen ill and one of them, a beautiful four-year-old Malayan tiger named Nadia has been diagnosed with coronavirus.

This is the first time an animal in the US has been infected with the disease, but also the first time a tiger has been infected, anywhere. The other infected animals are Nadia's sister Azul, two Amur tigers and three African lions. They were all in contact with the same zoo worker and exhibited symptoms including dry coughs, some wheezing and loss of appetite.

The zoo worker is doing okay. Let's hope we can say the same for these beautiful animals.

Weekend at Craggy Peaks

It is 1.15am. I lie in bed, watching the gum trees as they sway menacingly back and forth. The wind roars, gusting up to 48 kms per hour, and now and then the cabin shudders, as if it will rise from its foundations. An hour ago an aluminium chair on the veranda took flight and I wonder if and where we might find it in daylight. Naturally I can’t sleep.


We are at Craggy Peaks, a little over 100 kilometres from home, between the Midlands and the East Coast. The view from our cabin is spectacular; the craggy peaks of Stacks Bluff majestic against a backdrop of bright blue sky.

Our party of thirty is here for the weekend to celebrate 30 years of our HASH group. Some of us have only been a part of this group for less than a decade but we enjoy the camaraderie and the walks. On this special occasion we partake in a delicious three course meal with wine amid the company of old friends and new, an open fire and Haydn’s melodious guitar music.

But prior to this, the day presents us with sunshine and nary a breeze. From our balcony I wave to Steve as he wanders through the bush, camera in hand. Then, from the corner of my eye, I spy a Kelpie racing through the undergrowth and realise, with horror, she is in pursuit of a wallaby. I yell out to Steve who immediately goes to the wallaby's rescue.

After breakfast we begin with a few holes of golf on the course below us. We navigate around the wallaby and wombat poo covered fairways, showing our expertise or otherwise in this fun but frustrating game. Morning tea is served on the veranda of the cabin in which Terry, Steve, Mark and Dick are staying. We bring chairs and mugs and enjoy coffee and fruit buns in the sun.

Then 'Burkie' announces a short (with optional long), flat walk through the bush, after lunch. Of course, the walk isn't short - eight kilometres – and neither is it flat. But it is wonderful to be outdoors on such a beautiful day in this picturesque setting.

First, we hike up and up a narrow rocky track, through thick brush, at times hauling ourselves over fallen trees, until we reach a disused road. Relieved to be at the halfway point, we start out on this alternate way back, only to find that recent rains have flooded the road in sections, forcing us to bypass into the thick and mushy brush at the sides.

Then we reach the creek, previously a dry creek bed - but not today. Some of us attempt to cross downstream via fallen logs, others walk through the water with shoes on, whilst others still remove their shoes and socks, pull their jeans up to their knees, and wade knee-deep over slippery stones through freezing water to the other side.

Drying off as best we can, we venture on, downhill this time. Eventually we see the golf course, and rejoice. But our relief is short-lived as we discover the bridge that crosses this creek is now but a skeleton, with only three planks remaining. Fortunately, Terry, who is little more agile than some, offers his hand and one by one he guides us across.

At last we see our cabins through the tall gums, and exhausted, make a final effort to reach the comfort of a chair and a well-deserved drink.


It is now 2.15am. The wind still howls and the trees still sway and I am disinclined to return to bed. I think I’ll have another cuppa.