Devonport to Cradle Mountain

This blog post is recounted somewhat delayed, as I could only summon enough energy last night after a long, tiring day to make the briefest of notes on the events of the activities we had undertaken.
The exhaustion was only heightened by the fact that neither of us were able to rest particularly comfortably on the small, hard beds of our cabin, although thankfully the weather for the crossing was rather calm and there was not too much rocking heaving.

Coming in to Devonport

Ally and I got up early too, and were not able to get ourselves to sleep again, so instead we gathered our luggage and headed out to the lounge, then the deck to watch the approach of Tasmania. A brief soujourn on deck, however, proved rather chilly, and we quickly retired to the lounge to await our arrival, and the announcement that we could return to our car.
Luckily, when this announcement came, we did not find ourselves languishing in our vehicle nearly as long as on embarkment, and were driving through the streets of Devonport within half an hour of entering the car.
Our first stop was the local tourist information centre, where I received some very helpful information as to what I could do on my last day (when Alison would already be off at her placement), and we were given good advice as to which cafe to avail ourselves on for breakfast. The "Laneway", as it was called, served us with a very satisfying breakfast, with eggs, bacon, toast and waffles, and Ally even assures me the soy flat white she ordered was Melbourne Quality.

Tasmanian Dairy Country

Promptly following breakfast (with an immediate interlude at KMart to gather some items we had irresponsibly neglected to bring, such as pants) we hastened to our first tourist destination for the day (with a second interlude to photograph some photogenic cows and ducks standing by an idyllic, mirrorlike pond before a breathtaking mountain backdrop) which was King Solomon's Caves. Between the two interludes, we also made an extended detour to view the local hydro-electric dam, known as "devil's gate", which was quite a sight to behold. These distractions aside, however, as I stated, we took ourselves directly to King Solomon's caves without delay.

Devil's gate dam

Normally a person visiting the Moles Creek area of Tasmania would be spoiled for choice if they were inclined toward visiting underground places, however the region has recently experienced an embarrassment of rain, resulting in the caves and their respective visitor centers being damaged by floods, leaving the aforementioned caves one of the few still open to visitors. This proved not to be too great a tragedy for us, as the cave we visited was amply impressive. The tour guide, too, was particularly knowledgeable and informative (if a little too anxious not to offend), and despite my previous interest in geology and caves, I am happy to say I was granted some new wisdom, however slight, on the subject. The reader may be interested to note the reason it was given its moniker - apparently its first explorers, upon seeing the crystals in the limestone glistening in the light of their lanterns, incorrectly assumed the cave to be filled with expensive diamonds.

It's hard to take a good picture in a cave

After duly enjoying the splendour of the cave, we sought out lunch in nearby Railton, a town which is resplendant with topiaries, via the town of Sheffield, which is similarly blessed with a slew of murals. We made a perfectly adequate meal of a pie and a burger at the local take-away shop, and continued on our way in direction of Cradle Mountain.

Wooden bridge over clear water

On this final leg for the day, Tasmania very vaingloriously flaunted as much of its admittedly spectacular scenery in as short a space as possible. From green, rolling hillsides, then eucalyptus forests, quaint wooden bridges over swiftly babbling mountain streams took us through rainforests, then stark highlands of scrub and skeletal trees and finally the mountains which seemed to be trying to compete with the Swiss Alps in their ostentation.

Highlands with me in a tree

As if to abash us, we were even audaciously given a welcoming committee of dear little Pademelons, seemingly waiting for us to arrive at our cabin.

Welcoming committee

We did not tarry here for long, however, as the light would soon begin to fade, and we still planned to view the spectacular Cradle Mountain itself from Dove Lake, as the weather the next day promised to be less than ideal for this task. And so we drove on, up toward the titular mountain, and again I found myself humbled, with the breathtaking peak bearing majestically before me, reflected in the glassy surface of the lake once we arrived there. We spent some time at the shores, basking in its glory, before finally returning to our cabin (the welcoming committee, we noticed, was now nowhere to be seen), to retire for the night.

Cradle Mountain