The convict trail

I’m sitting in the near dark of the hostel dining room in Hobart as I type this so it may be briefer than most.

I stayed last night in a place about 20 minutes outside of Launceston, in East Tamor. The strange thing was having to drive back through the city to get on the highway to Hobart but given the distances to be covered in Tasmania it wasn’t so much of a problem. The places further away from town where the newest. They were all neat little houses set in semi rural countryside but with access to some pretty decent shopping centres (I stopped in one place and filled up the car for $1.21 a litre) but as I got got closer in the houses became older. Now they were all neat red brick and tile and reminded me again of English villages, even down to the little green, wooden bus stops on the side of the road.

The rain and the temperature also maintained the thought that it was actually England but despite the conditions there were still families out walking together, parents pushing a stroller and kids riding alongside on bikes. I guess they are hardy people down this way by necessity but it still makes me glad to live on the Gold Coast.

As I reached Perth (the other one) patches of blue sky began to appear and then there was the most amazing rainbow. I tried to take photos of it but I doubt that my meagre skills will do it justice. The rainbow stayed with me for quite a while as the weather fought between sun and cloud and driving rain. I’m glad that the heater in the Grey Ghost works.

The other thing that the rain does, besides fogging up my windows, is provide a novel experience of going over a river that actually has water in it. For so long on the Newell Highway the signs purporting to be rivers didn’t really live up to the name.

I even stopped the car at one point, despite the rain, to take photos of a little church that could have been a set from Little House on the Prairie. It seemed to sit all on it’s own but still boasted a Poe like graveyard out front.

One of the things that I wanted to stop and see was the Campbell Town Convict Brick Trail. Sort of a Hollywood walk of fame type of thing, there is a row of bricks embedded in the footpaths of the town. Each one is engraved with the name and details of a convict who was transported to Australia. It’s fascinating to walk along and see the crimes they were convicted of and the penalties imposed.

Campbell Town is also the place were my ancestor, of the memorial fame, was involved in observing the transit of Venus in 1874.

But I can’t leave Campbell Town without mentioning the lunch I had in Cafe100. A huge plate of roast beef and yorkshire pudding that was as good as any I’ve ever tasted. I got to eat it in front of a fireplace in a rustic old building and it only set me back $14.50.

From there I made a brief detour off the main road to drive over the Ross Bridge which was constructed by convict labour in 1836, and is the third oldest bridge still in use in Australia. Maybe not the most impressive bridge by modern standards but something in its day and it put the town of Ross on the map.

From there it was on to Hobart and a fairly unimpressive drive into the city. It was really just a sprawl of old houses and it was only the view of the river on the other side that was of any interest.

Once I was settled in my room I headed out for my first reconnaissance walk. Hobart is not a city of big buildings but it is a city of old buildings. The old buildings are good, they are the history of the city and of the country but my first impression was of the place being slightly rundown. It lacks the feeling of progress that other major cities have and rather has a feeling of being a once thriving large country town that is now resting on it’s laurels. Or at least that is my first impression and subject to change as I spend a couple of days here.

I walked through St David’s Park on my way down to the waterfront and ended up doing more than just passing through. It was once the cemetery, until it feel on hard times, became run down and a haunt for undesirables. One sign even told the tale of criminals evading the police by running into the cemetery and hiding in subsided graves. Anyone willing to do that is not someone I’d like to tangle with. Apparently they managed to reinter most of the remains when it became a park but there are also a number of people still buried there.

Further on I wandered through the shopping precinct of Salamanca Square, a bit deserted on a Sunday afternoon, and past the bland looking Supreme Court building and the Parliament Building. I noticed that only two of the three flag poles were occupied. The State flag flew, the Aboriginal flag flew but there was no Australian flag. Maybe secession is in the air?

I walked briefly along the waterfront but it gets dark and cold early here so I quickly ducked into the information centre, gathered fistfuls of free brochures and walked back to my lodging.

Port Arthur tomorrow and then the next day to wander around Hobart in a more serious way before moving on.

I have decided to cut my Tasmanian sojourn a little shorter than I had planned and am booked back on the ferry on the 20th of July. It’s not that I couldn’t spend an awful long time here and that there isn’t plenty of things to explore but I have to keep my bank balance in mind and also the object of all this. By the 20th I will have more than enough material for my opening chapter in an attempt at getting a literary agent and it is probably more important that I devote time to that end than merely collecting stories that may never see a published light of day.