Touching the past

It was cold and it was damp and what I had come so far to see could hardly be called overwhelming but I found the small stone cairn and the plaque that commemorated my direct ancestor and I was happy.

But lets go back a day.

I woke up Friday morning knowing that I only had a short drive to get to the ferry terminal in Melbourne. It was quite a nice feeling and the drive into the city was along one of the prettiest highways I have seen anywhere. lots of trees and a feeling that they had been there for some time and the road had been placed lovingly among them rather than in the bulldozing way of most such roads.

Bambi performed extremely well, even as the way became rather confusing with all the ring roads and having to swap from one to the other. Luckily the dock is easily accessed without having to hit any of the really densely trafficked parts and the Spirit of Tasmania loomed above some buildings rather sooner than I expected.

Not really knowing how long I was going to take for the trip down I hadn’t booked my tickets so I had to find the ticket office and suffer through a heart stopping moment when the woman said that there was room for me but not for my car. Eventually she took pity on me and gave me a space for a higher vehicle.

The tickets for both me and my car safely in my pocket I left the grey ghost (yes, I’m even giving the car a name now) in the terminal parking area and decided to walk into the city. I had about 6 hours to kill until I could start boarding and even though I have never been impressed with Melbourne before it was still better than sitting in the car.

The walk was eerily familiar. It turns out that I made the exact same walk in February of 2008 when I docked there on the cruise ship. Nothing had changed. My knees may squeak a little more but apart from that it could have been the next day. I even ended up at Crown Casino like I had the last time. Unlike last time though, this time I kept walking because my sole purpose was to find a Commonwealth Bank ATM.

I found the ATM, wandered up and down the banks of the Yarra for a while, feeling the whole time extremely underdressed amongst all the business types in their fancy suits and expensive haircuts, and then walked back to the port. Yep, about as exciting as the last time I was there, which you can read about here http://www.planettrekker.info/2008/02/13/never-enough-to-read/ if you want to know my views on Melbourne.

So I found myself back at the port and staring up at the Spirit of Tasmania, something that simply reinforced the cruise ship flashbacks.

I had been a bit nervous about the whole ‘driving onto the ferry’ thing the whole trip down but it turned out to be pretty simple. I just slotted my car into one of the two lanes and then followed the directions of the guys in the fluoro jackets. The line was pretty long and slow moving but eventually I got to a booth where I flashed my drivers licence as ID and was given my boarding pass and electronic key to the Ocean Recliner lounge. Then it was another long wait until they allowed us to actually drive onto the ship. Each of the three queues of cars was given a turn and bit by bit we all drove up a long ramp and into the stern of the ship. More guys in fluoro jackets pointing out where to go and then it was just a matter of stopping close behind the car in front.

Luckily for me I stopped right beside the stairs to the upper decks which made it easy and safe to get out of the car and even easier to find it when it was time to leave. 

The ship itself was too much like those cruise ships for me to feel comfortable going into much detail, except to say that it had bars and restaurants, a movie theatre showing two movies I have never heard of and a casino. Which did my head in. There was a small area with poker machines and a bored looking guy in a small cage watching people who were already playing the machines. They must have run onboard and gone straight to a stool because they already had the glazed look of inveterate gamblers.

I wandered around for a while, decided there was little of interest to me and sought out my sleeping accommodation.

The Ocean Recliner area could only be accessed by an electronic key (which I have as a souvenir, having neglected to hand it in when I left) which seems odd given that everyone else would have had a cabin and would have laughed to see where I was going to sleep. It was a largish room at the stern that had rows of aeroplane style seats all facing out the back window. Had it been daylight there may have been a view but I did the whole trip in the dark so there wasn’t much benefit. As far as planes go the seat was okay but if you can afford it I would recommend springing for the cabin.

As soon as the ship engines started the whole room started vibrating and didn’t let up until we docked the next morning. We were situated right over the engine and propellers so it was both loud and shaking. Why is it that the only people who seem to be able to sleep through stuff like that are the ones who also seem to snore the loudest? Snorers and families with small kids should be made to pay for a cabin.

But we made it to Devonport and I did get at least 3 or 4 minutes of sleep so it could have been worse.

It was dark out the window when we docked and it was still dark when I drove off the ship. in fact it was still dark at about 8am as I was driving towards Launceston. Admittedly it was overcast and a little rainy but how do these Tasmanians get out of bed in the winter?

The view along the road was English. I could honestly have been driving through the English countryside a lot of the time, apart from the gum trees. There were rolling green hills, hedgerows and trees that were actually a colour other than green. A very pretty drive.

Bambi did me proud again and I arrived in Launceston with no problems, apart from the worlds worst ham and cheese toasted sandwich purchased from a roadhouse on the way.

Launceston was quiet. Too quiet. Something was wrong. then I realised that it was Saturday and that, unlike the Gold Coast, people in other parts of the country had the day off. At least the lack of traffic made it even easier for me to find Royal Park, which was the reason I had made the trip.

I’ll go into my family history a little more when I get to Hobart but I knew that there was a memorial to an ancestor of mine in Royal Park. All I had to do was find it. Luckily the memorial itself has it’s GPS coordinates on it so I simply fed them into my hand held GPS and set off. There was a bit of a problem though. According to the coordinates the memorial should have been in the middle of the Tamar river. Obviously it wasn’t so now I had to search throughout the park and try to locate a small stone pile with a plaque on it.

I found it eventually and to my relief it wasn’t tucked away in some dim and overgrown back corner but rather it bordered a path atop a ridge and had good views on all sides.

I felt rather happy for my ancestor given that it was erected after his death. I took photos from every angle, patted it affectionately and then headed off into the middle of town.

Not the liveliest place on a Saturday afternoon but then I don’t really know what it’s like the rest of the week. There is a feeling of it being a large country town and I wandered up and down the central pedestrian mall, marvelling at the ages of the buildings and the number of shops selling fleeces.  I lunched in a small cafe in the back of an alley that claimed great historical significance and then looked for a place to spend the night. Which is where I am now.

It is already dark on a day that has barely seen 9 hours of daylight and I am starting to feel the effects of a long day, night and day. It’s Hobart tomorrow but I feel I will be back soon to give Launceston it’s due.