14th of August - up through the middle to Launceston

Now we are nearing the end of our Journey, and the day chronicled in this post is the penultimate of my whole trip, and the last I would spend with Ally before she would head off to her uni business.

Australia's oldest bridge

Much of the day was spent travelling north from Hobart through the middle of Tasmania, stopping, as was our wont, at any interesting localities we happened to pass on the way. The first stop we made was at a town called Richmond, which by all accounts was a very pretty spot with many beautiful and quaint cottages. It also boasts the oldest bridge in Australia - one built by convicts in 1823, and another reminder of that aspect of our country's past.

Also at this town, we stopped at a bakery for a mid-morning snack, and I finally was able to indulge in what Ally had been assuring me was a typically Tasmanian delicacy, and one which I had so far failed to locate on our travels, namely a curried Scallop pie.

I'm sure the discerning reader will agree it sounds quite an unusual culinary combination, and while I must admit it is probably not to everybody's taste, I found it rather palatable.

Oatlands Windmill

The next stop on our long road back north was the rather peculiarly (and, as it turns out, aptly) named Oatlands. This town's attraction is a large windmill, reminiscent of many seen in the Netherlands, and it seemed the area was rather proud of its milling and grain producing heritage, as there were all manner of authentically produced and milled items to buy at the local shop.

Unfortunately time did not permit a lengthy sojourn, and we were not able (again) to take the tour of the building, so there is little else I can say about it at this time. The reason for our haste was we had one last major attraction to visit before the southern winter sun vanished and left it an impossibility. We hurried from the windmill north to Launceston and, after locating the Hostel I had hastily (and cheaply) booked for myself on the way there, and dropping off my luggage, we headed to Launceston's premiere natural attraction - Cataract gorge.

Cateract Gorge

Much is said about the gorge, and how fabulous it is to have such a thing of natural beauty so close to such a suburban hub. We enjoyed it in the last rays of the sun, taking the chairlift across it one way, on the other side of which we stopped at a kiosk to make a quick lunch of wedges, pies and soup, which the Ostentation of Peacocks which strolled the gardens and walking paths on that side of the gorge presently and insistently tried to beg and steal from our very hands. Returning to the other side of the gorge and our car, we crossed via an adventurous and exciting, narrow, shaky, hanging wooden bridge.

Finally I was dropped off at my hostel by Ally and miss V--, and I proceeded to head in to the city to discover what kind of night life one could expect on a Sunday night. My rambles through its streets could lead one to assume I had taken up my pub challenge again, as I visited four on this evening, before settling on one Royal Oak, where an irish style music session kept me entertained until I stumbled back to my hostel and in to bed.