April 8 – 11, 2011 – Goodbye Tasmania, Hello Melbourne!

Friday morning brought another departure yet another adventure. We packed, loaded the car and then filled our tummies on the bountiful breakfast buffet at the lodge and bid adieu to the lovely national park. I was dreading our long drive back to Launceston airport because the rental car's seats were so horribly uncomfortable. I think someone took the stuffing out of the front and left side of my seat, replacing it with a metal bar. My body ached just thinking of 4 more hours in this clunker. After a few miles, I picked up my purse from the floor, plopped it in my lap to rummage around for some chapstick, and suddenly shouted, "ewwww!" My lap was soaked as was the bottom of my handbag. What now? I groped the carpet with my hand to find it squishy. Frank, not wanting to stop the car until we needed gas said, "We'll deal with it later, just put your purse on the back seat".

Oh, and dare I mention that when we had placed our wet shoes and socks in the back window to dry 4 days ago we had forgotten to take them out in Hobart. They sat and fermented in the car from Monday until Wednesday, resulting in a very smelly car (as in between men's locker-room & dirty wet dog). I neglected to point out that we drove most of the way to Freycinet with windows wide open to try to air it out in the previous posting. I dreaded the thought of even putting those shoes back on my feet in fear of what may be living in them. But they were all we had for hiking (and mine were brand shiny new and mildewed), so we dealt with it.

After about 2 hours of driving, Frank signaled it was time for an apple and something to drink. I lugged the ice chest off the rear floor into may lap and UGH it's bottom was soaked, as was our guide book and the rental car agency's map book. Come on! Frank pulled over; we got out while he surveyed the problem. We never did figure out what was leaking but realized everything we had placed on the floors was literally soaked through. We had no towels or napkins to dry anything, so he instructed me to place everything on the back seat and pray for some sunshine as we rolled down the windows to get some air circulating through the damp car. Sadly our drive back to Launceston is not very memorable other than car distress and so there isn't much that we recall about the scenery on the way. When we returned, Frank went into the agency to sort out the overpriced, leaky, uncomfortable car while I tried to dry out our stuff and to make room for myself on the (now wet) back seat. He came out smiling, followed by a dour-faced woman who grunted as she touched the carpets, mumbled something to herself, walked around the car inspecting it as if it were a prized trophy, nodded and then got into the driver's seat to take us to the terminal.

Thankfully our flight into Melbourne was a non-event, putting us on the ground in time for Loretta Wise to pick us up on her way home from work. We spent the weekend with her, John and their two sons, Keenan and Jordan. We had met John and Loretta in Sri Lanka at Andy Heger and Melissa Woolf's wedding. We had become fast friends with these two and the Spencers, Scott and Muriel from Brisbane. Friday night we enjoyed a real Aussie Barbeque and then settled in to watch the Collingwood Magpies in Australian Rules footy. John is a former player for the team so it is a very big honor for us to watch Collingwood footy with him at his house. In fact, there is a Collingwood room in the Wise home. What a great night!

Loretta and John had our weekend well planned out. After a nice long walk after breakfast, John and Loretta took us for a bit of a driving tour of their favorite historic areas of Melbourne, we of course drove past the famous Collingwood Magpie grounds before lunching at their favorite pub in Abbotsford called The Retreat Hotel. It oozes old world charm, showcasing beautiful stained glass windows, antique appointments and walls adorned with memorabilia and authentic old photographs. A former historic Australian hotel, this one is now a restaurant, bar, function venue. It is also famous for having been location for the filming of a favorite Aussie TV series, "The Sullivans". John and Loretta gave us a bit of history of the place and while we awaited our food I took a self-guided tour.  Surprisingly, the food was absolutely gourmet quality. My simple dish of corned beef and cabbage was better than any I've ever made or eaten elsewhere.

 

Early Sunday morning, after our walk, Loretta announced plans for the day. She had the day precisely planned out – nearly to the minute. I was really impressed as they loaded us into the car for a trip to Melbourne's famous Queen Victoria Market. My goodness what a market! It is the largest open-air market we have ever seen. Opened in 1878 it features literally everything. We could have spent a weekend here and not seen it all, but what we did see: farm fresh fruits, vegetables, cheeses, meats; and then seafood, baked goods, home goods, arts and crafts, jewelry, clothing, fresh herbs and spices… This was big time sensory overload. We were in and out though within an hour – and could see why we had arrived so early. By 9 AM the crowds were nearly elbow-to-elbow. Frank and I did manage to make a few purchases of kitchen goods and spices, lamenting not having Destiny with us so that we could really stock her up. Gosh I'd love another chance at that market!

We returned to the house, stowed our purchases and then drove into the wine country for an afternoon of wine tasting. I'm not sure if Loretta remembered that I do not drink, or they figured we'd really enjoy this outing since it is a "do not miss" on everyone's travel plans to the Yarra River Valley, but I kept my trap shut and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. Our eyes were not disappointed and neither were Frank, John and Loretta's palettes. At some of the vineyards, gift shops and galleries abutted the tasting rooms, giving me my own distraction to the commentary of the tasters. After the third winery, I could tell that Frank and John felt a little uncomfortable that I was not joining in. Frankly I did too, because one who goes to wineries but just hangs around loitering whilst the others are tasting stands our remarkably. I would be arrogant if I didn't admit feeling jealous and a teeny bit irritable that this was how we were to spend our day, but by the same token I was happy that Frank could finally enjoy this with them since losing his wine-loving partner (me). Fortunately my love affair with wine ended in an ugly break-up which helped ease the pain of being on the outside looking into my favorite candy store. The highlight of the day was a late lunch at Oakridge, a winery featuring one of the best restaurants around. Unluckily, an indoor/outdoor wedding was in full swing at the same time we were booked, which caused a delay of over an hour. Loretta and the boys tasted wine during the wait. I began to snap photos when an ugly storm raised its ghastly head, clawing at the horizon and breaking through throwing fierce gusts of wind and angry torrents of rain at the lively wedding party. Quickly, tables overturned, guests scattered and staff responded en masse, swooping in, gathering up and moving indoors as quickly as the storm had emerged. We were bustled into the restaurant where the sliding glass doors were slid to a close in time for us to only have gotten a bit splattered. Loretta really fretted over this delay in our tightly woven schedule, sending John to expedite our service. Finally seated, because we had already memorized the menu, we immediately placed our food and drink orders. Sadly the food arrived a very long time later, but was so well worth the wait! Because we had spent an inordinate amount of time at Oakwood, we rushed into and out of the tasting room at our last stop, Domaine Chandon, Loretta's favorite. Because Loretta's birthday was close by we purchased a top of the line bottle to give to her as a birthday/thank you gift which we presented later that night.

Back at the Wise household we feasted on fresh seafood and baked goods that John and Loretta had purchased earlier at the market. I felt as though all I had done was eat for the last two weeks and looked forward to taking a break from gourmet on our return.  After dinner we all retired early because Monday morning was a workday for them and a flying out day for us. Early flight back to Sydney and our beloved Destiny.

April 6 – 7 Freycinet National Park (2 of 2)

Thursday morning, we enjoyed an absolute feast for breakfast, packed up a picnic lunch and set off for the long hike around to Hazards Beach and Wineglass Bay. It was a circuitous 12k route that would take the better part of our day.

As we pulled into the car park at the trailhead I saw a wallaby standing between our car and the one just the other side of us. I got out and walked up to the little guy. He didn't move, so I bent down to have a chat with him face to face. He didn't really chat back but Frank was able to snap a cute photo of the moment, while advising me to back away from the animal.

We signed in at the trail hut. By the way, I've not mentioned this before but I like this about Tasmania; there are so many trails and so many hikers that the park service requests (requires actually) that all hikers, walkers, etc., sign the ledger stating name, time at

beginning of hike, name of intended hike, estimated time on the trail and then at the conclusion of the hike a sign-out and time. We have heard of Australia's deadly critters and of the perils of hiking in various areas but have yet to encounter any real danger or to come to harm. Another point of note is that up until just a few years ago, Tasmanian Devils were abundant in Tasmania, particularly on the eastern side. Tragically, since around 1997, they have been all but wiped out from a deadly cancerous disease known as DFTD (devil facial tumor disease). Grave concern has been expressed that they will become extinct within the next 5-10 years, as about 80% of the population has already been affected. No cure has been found and the disease is highly infectious and deadly, but only to Tasmanian Devils. We found this very sad. We continued to be on the lookout for them, but the only ones we encountered were healthy and at the zoo.

So back on track, we started for Hazard's Bay. The first few hours of the hike were on the leeward side; hence the landscape was thorny, brown, absolutely teeming with large black flies and slippery going across the granite. The trail as it were was not so much laid as marked across the granite up steep, natural inclines and down jagged rocks, sending a variety of lizards and dragons skittering.  Thank goodness we have no snake sightings to report. We liked the fact that

for the most part this area is simply marked as opposed to stepped with concrete or wood. I spent quite a lot of effort breathing through my teeth and then vigorously out my nose so that I would not suck in any flies. Because of the lack of wind and moisture on this side they must be attracted to the moisture from our bodies because they were swarming about us. Now I understand the use of corks dangling from hats. Wish I'd had a net around my body. The pesky flies gave us momentum to forge ahead as briskly as possible, slipping and sliding along. I hated rushing through this because the rock formations were utterly unique interestingly stacked like little statues and majestic columns. This area of Tasmania is amazing in that every section reveals completely different landscapes and examples of nature's architecture.

Eventually we came upon a clearing at Lemana Lookout. The view was directed toward Coles Bay, a smaller area of Great Oyster Bay. The water sparkled like millions of crystals set into a lapis colored pool. We took a few minutes to sip water and take in the eye-catching panorama. The trail then wound steeply downward to and along to Hazard's Beach where the water was crystal clear and more of a turquoise at close inspection. We could understand why it is called Hazard's Beach – whether or not this is the intention – while the water is so  alluring and inviting, access to it is flanked by granite boulders and dangerous looking rock formations. We continued onward winding back up the mount, which would eventually lead us to Cook's Beach. More ooh's and ahh's and some relief once again by cool breezes coming off the water. By now, although it was mid morning, the sun was getting HOT. At Cook's Beach there was an optional detour up and over to yet another beach that was not circuitous so rather than trek in and back out for another 1 – 2 hours, we took the overland route across Mount Freycinet that would eventually lead us to Wineglass Bay. This trail finally led us away from buzzing flies into greener and lusher surroundings as we trekked the mountain. We got a little more shade and cooled down a bit, as we neared Wineglass Bay. Finally we wound down hundreds of yards and as many steps to the beautiful bay that we had glimpsed from above the previous day. It is absolutely pristine and painted in more colors of blue than the mind can describe or our pictures can capture.

Several wallabies bounced about as we scouted a good spot

out of the wind for a picnic. Although it was only mid afternoon we began to lose our sun. We donned our jackets and packed up the

supplies, ready for the rigorous climb straight up Mount Mason, one of

The Hazards. Frank and I are more walkers than real hikers. This day

had taken about 50% of whatever I have in me. As I looked up, daunted by this monstrous climb I realized we had opted for the "expert" hike. The vertical steps appeared to be just in front of my face. I thanked goodness we were actually going up instead of down, because hiking down at this grade is more difficult for me than going up. What were we thinking anyway? I kept the self-talk up: "breathe easy, breathe steadily, don't grunt, use your muscles, (what muscles?), focus on one step at a time…" Then out of nowhere a wallaby came bounding toward us. He stopped just in front of me and looked back up the trail to a woman who was making her way down. When she caught up to it, the wallaby commenced his downward journey. I asked her, "friend of yours?" She just laughed and said it adopted her on the trail and seemed to be escorting her down. How cute is that? An hour later we neared the summit and began to hear laughter and conversation. Alas

just another 200 – 300 yards to go to the top! When I looked back down I appreciated the sheer grade of our climb and felt very proud. Frank just felt like sitting and breathing. Once again we had sunlight that warmed our bodies. We knew our way from here and were consoled at the though of being only another 45 minutes away from the hot tub and a

foot rub. Those were my thoughts – Franks ran more along the lines of an ice-cold beer and some pre dinner snacks.

Back at the cabin we fulfilled our wishes and then dressed (up) for dinner in the Bay Restaurant. We absolutely feasted again. The menu read like a gourmet's dream making it difficult to decide what to choose. We settled on the mixed natural Tasmanian oysters for a

starter, then went for Lamb rack (Frank) and Tasmanian salmon (me). The dinner was as outstanding as we had anticipated. Afterwards, we took a moonlight stroll before collapsing into our wonderful bed.

April 6 – 7, 2011 Freycinet National Park (part 1 of 2)

Frank had booked us at the Freycinet Lodge, situated right in the middle of the National Park. The setting is tranquil and entirely surrounded by nature.  Our large cabin was the top-end luxury accommodation, complete with a deep Jacuzzi bath large enough for 4, a beautiful bathroom, kitchenette, sofa, sitting area, and a freestanding king bed. I opened the fridge to place our fruits, cheeses and snacks inside to find a large platter of cheeses, fruits, crackers, breads and nuts. We laughed as we read the personalized welcome note from the resort manager. Accompanying this was a bottle of champagne and chilled flutes. I felt like such a hillbilly bringing my own ice chest filled with snacks. Poor Frank was faced with the challenge of consuming the champagne all by his lonesome.  But right now daylight was burning, so we dropped everything but the hiking supplies and set off for the trails. We drove over to the trailhead and read the descriptions of various hikes.

We chose the Wineglass Bay hike. It begins with a vertical climb that is mostly stepped but steep and rigorous. There are several stopping and lookout points along the way. It is so beautiful that I hardly noticed the steepness. The colors and formations of the rocky cliffs and ledges were just remarkable. Lizards scurried about, bees and flies attacked! The greenery became dry and brittle but those rocks were beautiful. Although the weather was very cool we warmed up quickly and began to shed layers. We kept meeting people on their way down, who would remark to us: “It is well worth it! You’re half-way there!” “Stunning! You’ll love it!”, “Don’t give up – you are nearly there…”. Gosh I was loving this part so I couldn’t wait to see what was next around every bend and curve and outcropping. I was so busy looking, swatting flies and trying to breath that I kept forgetting to take out my camera. At about 2/3 of the way up we came to an inviting wooden-slatted lounge chair. We took a little rest. If I had been 30 or 40 years younger I would have thought I’d gone to heaven seeing all the cool caves and hiding spots in which I could have built a fort! We were like children all over again. Eventually we came to the summit, where a large platform had been erected to give a breathtaking view of Wineglass Bay. We posed for pictures, sat for an apple and some nibbles, explored around the area a bit more and then set off for the trip back down.Going down was amazingly steep and tricky.

I’m wobbling about trying to keep my balance going straight down when a mob of teenage boys came dashing past me on all sides, nearly knocking down a couple of elderly women in front of us. My joy was dashed as I thought, “Little Turds!” After that I snapped to it and decided to just get on with it. We excused ourselves past the older ladies and quickstepped past the flies and lizards hitting the car park in half the time it had taken us to go up. Although the hike was only about 3k, it took us about an hour and a half all together. We felt exhilarated and hungry.

Returning to our cabin, we grabbed our platter and some drinks from the fridge and retired to the back deck for a sundowner. Our cabin was surrounded by a densely forested area teeming with songbirds and other chattering wildlife, as though it was built to be part of the nature around it. Rays of sunlight were streaming down through the canopy giving our little world a sense of heavenly tranquility. Just through the trees we noted a path that led down to a golden sand beach. We sipped, nibbled and enjoyed the sounds of nature with the sun warming our faces through the chilled mountain air.  I could do this for a while.

We pulled ourselves from the dream, tidied up and walked over to the lodge for dinner. We opted for the casual dining room. The specials board featured lots of tempting dishes, including Tasmanian (whole) lobster and Sri Lankan curry. I chose the lobster; Frank the curry. We stuffed ourselves and then took a little stroll. The night air was quite chilly, but so clean and fresh! We decided a soak in our tub was in order. Afterward, Frank donned his robe, grabbed a beer and decided to sit on the back deck for a cool down. I was just getting out when Frank parted curtains and jumped back exclaiming, “Barbara, there are mammals on our deck!” What? Mammals?

I grabbed a robe and ran to the patio doors; peering out into the darkness I saw flashes of big, round eyes and heard scratching, growling and knocking. Frank grabbed a flashlight and shone it out up against the glass. It illuminated four bushy-tailed and very beautiful possums fighting over an errant beer bottle. It was so eerie and they were so pretty that I grabbed my camera for a snapshot before they disbanded. As I eased the glass open, a scrawny claw reached out toward the screen directly in front of my face. I had visions of it shredding the screen with lightening speed and then setting itself upon us and annihilating the contents of our room. (I’d read about these occurrences in the “wildlife warnings” section of our travel guides). I snapped a quick photo and slammed the patio door shut. They started making a really loud ruckus out there, fighting over that beer bottle! Frank turned on the porch light and started yelling at them like a banshee, banging on the gladd door. They scattered and then he threw open the door and dived for the beer bottle. That settled that. By now we were getting cold again, so we dived into bed with the electric blanket.

April 4, 2011 Drive to Hobart/Hobart

Our drive from Cradle Mountain was interesting enough, as we seemed to enter and leave one small village or hamlet after another; some sparsely populated, some abandoned and yet others were more like small outcroppings of a few homes and then nothingness. We could see that this is valuable farm country. Tasmania ranchland generates some of the finest meats and cheeses in this part of the world. Suddenly the landscape turned ugly. If land could be described as eviscerated then this would be it – even more so than what we saw up the mountain. Just on the outskirts of Queenstown we noted, firsthand the effects brought about by the gold mining industry before safeguards and restrictions were put into place.  So now we have seen what lumbering and mining have done to tarnish some of the beauty of Tasmania, but there is so much more to see that is now protected and untarnished. We did spotted lots of wallabies and other wildlife along the drive, which made it particularly enjoyable.

Around mid-day we came upon an inviting sign pointing to a turn off for a town called Tarraleah. What a musical and delightful sounding name! This town is not mentioned in the Lonely Planet. In fact, nothing past Queenstown is mentioned in the Lonely Planet??? It is as though the writers just cut out a chunk of Tasmania along the A10 roadway. Hmmm. It was lunchtime and we felt this town needed to be explored and besides as far as we knew, it was the only town between here and Hobart (several hours away). We took the turn-off to Tarraleah. The short detour revealed the most adorable, quaint and picture perfect village we’ve ever seen. We thought perhaps we had driven onto a movie set. It was too perfect! There was a main road that circled through, past a café, a schoolhouse that is now a hotel, some cottages and a very impressive lodge. We pulled into the only parking lot visible and entered the café. As we browsed the menu, Frank picked up a book that gave a short history of the town. It was created in the late 1800’s as part of the Hydro development off the Derwent River as a settlement for the Hydro engineers and the company directors. Apparently no expense was spared in the endeavor and the result was a luxury settlement and accommodation for the employees. It boomed into an impressive, high-end town until the 1980’s. I suppose after the work was completed the town just died away, although there is no explanation why by 1996 the population had dropped from 1600 to 4 and the town was closed. In 2006 someone, from somewhere came along and infused a large amount of money into purchasing and revitalizing the town; refurbishing the buildings, converting nearly every structure into a resort style setting. Now it is an exclusive getaway for those who want peace and tranquility among nature and basically anything else if you are willing to pay. It’s philosophy somewhat reminds me of Neiman Marcus: if you want it and can afford it you can have it here at Tarraleah. We enjoyed a delicious lunch, browsed the impressive gift shop and walked about admiring the allure of this special place. We were even interested in spending a night here but it was completely booked. So off we drove, ambling toward Hobart in our jalopy.

Landscape continued to impress as we noticed traffic picking up a bit (from 1 or 2 cars every half hour to several cars every 15 minutes or so), as we neared Hobart. Then suddenly we were on a real highway that delivered us into the heart of Hobart town. We had no trouble finding our boutique hotel, which was at towne center and only two blocks from the waterfront. We checked in, dumped our bags and set off to explore this famous seaside town. It was utterly walkable. It is rich in history and charm. We were drawn to the waterfront where we did a little recon for our Tuesday activities and then settled on a recommended Vietnamese restaurant for dinner.

April 2 – 4, 2011 Cradle Mountain, Tasmania

We awoke at the crack of dawn so that we could drive back to Melbourne, return our rental car and get to Tullamarine airport by 11:30. Our flight was to depart Melbourne at 1 PM, arriving Launceston, Tasmania, @ 2 PM, however, it was delayed, and delayed and delayed. We finally departed around 3.  We had booked a rental car at Lo-Cost Auto Rent, one of the very few available. They have no kiosk at the airport, and we had been advised to phone the agency upon arrival, which I did and was advised to phone back when we actually had our checked bags in hand. OK. We called back when our bags arrived on the carousel and after following instructions about where to meet our driver we waited another half hour or so. Finally a woman arrived in a raggedy economy car and bounced us for a good twenty minutes to the offsite rental office. It looked more like a port-a-shed in the Texas backcountry. She then commenced to pull out pages and pages of paperwork for us to complete. Hadn’t I already done this online? She instructed us complete this and that and sign here and there and of course we asked all the WRONG questions, which we would discover all too late. We were tired and just wanted to get underway.  We still had a 3-hour drive to Cradle Mountain. Once the paperwork was finalized she led us right back out to the raggedy little car – ugh – with stained and torn seats and smelling heavily of cigarettes. I mentioned that this looked nothing like the car we had reserved. Her terse response was that it was all that was available given the lateness of our arrival. Lord. She then informed us that the fuel tank was empty and directed us to the gas station that was NOT in our intended direction. I asked myself if I had been praying for patience lately, because this was truly taking up all that I had stored in reserve.

Hungry (no time for lunch), and thirsty and ready for adventure, we stocked up on junk food, water and soda at the small gas station. Frank gasped at the fuel price and I tried not to hyperventilate at the cost of the junk. We were thrilled to be underway. The drive to Cradle Mountain was actually quite enjoyable. Tasmania is beautiful. The roads are slow going yet because of the natural beauty we didn’t really mind. We were going to be very late for our hotel check-in, but no matter because we were prepaid so we just enjoyed the twisting and turning road ahead. Eventually the elevation began to rise as we traversed up the mountain. The beauty turned to horror as we noted the utter devastation of the countryside. Beautiful trees and greenery became knarled stumps, burned out landscape and dead and twisted skeletons of what must have once been majestic trees. Truly it looked holocaustic. What on earth has happened here? We began to dread what awaited us. But then we turned into the Cradle Mountain National Forest. WOW. The scenery began to change and the greenery became denser. Thank goodness! We eventually found our way to the Cradle Mountain Lodge.  When we saw our cabin we put all the annoyance of our trip here behind us. It was perfect. By now the weather had turned quite cold and rainy and although all we really wanted to do was to sit in the spa and then cuddle up by the fireplace in our fluffy robes afterward, we forced ourselves to head back up to the main lodge for dinner. The lodge is magnificent, large, welcoming and cozy at the same time. There were literally dozens of people grouped about sitting on large leather wingchairs and sofas, reading, playing board games and cards, sipping cocktails and warming up beside any number of the many large stone fireplaces. It was historic, grand and homey all at once. The lodge houses a pub and a fine dining venue. We ventured over to the pub for a delicious meal and then attended a slide presentation of the history of Cradle Mountain, including wildlife to be watching out for. We learned that lumber companies in the late 1800’ s/early 1900’s caused the wreckage of the landscape. They took what they wanted and left the rest to ruin. Very sad.  Excited about our hiking prospects we returned to the cabin for a warm-up by our own fire.

On Sunday we enjoyed a large breakfast at the lodge before our day hike. We set off, following the trails on a little brochure we’d picked up at the reception desk. It was very cold out but the sun was shining. Immediately we were struck by the beauty of our surroundings, streams and brooks, waterfalls and boardwalks through the bush made it one of the most picturesque hikes we had ever been on. I was keenly on the lookout for wombats and wallabies. In our slide show tutorial the previous night we were told to watch out these and a variety of wildlife including snakes and leeches, but that there are no kangaroos or koalas on the island of Tasmania. About 15 minutes into our hike we spotted our first wallaby. We saw several dropping of wombat scat – which oddly is perfectly cubed. I took some photos but Frank wasn’t real pleased with my taking pictures of poop so I deleted them. I was truly impressed at their “squareness”, however. So onward we roamed until we found ourselves back at the main lodge about an hour later. That was the scenic, nature hike. We decided to find something a little more challenging so, consulting our notes we took off in search of a longer route.

Eventually we discovered one that promised us a 4 – 5 hour trail and so we took it. It actually led out of the forest into what resembled a field with few trees but with very large clumps of tall grass. Eventually, the trail became much narrower and rutty.  The ruts became very damp, soaking my shoes through so that my toes began to feel cold. After a while, the ruts became running streams and the area so boggy that I was trying to hop from one clump of grassy stuff to another. I kept telling frank this didn’t feel right. Onward he pushed promising that we were on track. After 2 hours my feet were soaked through and I was dirty down one side because I kept falling down. There was no longer a trail, just bog. We were following the rut that had become a stream and it seemed to be wandering in no particular direction. We finally came upon a clump of trees, where we sat for a drink and an apple. I explained to Frank that although I indeed was looking for a bit more challenge, this was no longer very much fun and was far from pretty and interesting.  We were both very cold and damp and now the sun had been obliterated by clouds. Dark clouds were now threatening rain and I surely did not want to be stuck out here in this mess in the rain. He admitted that he wasn’t sure exactly where we were and of course we did not bring our GPS, thinking that we would be on well-laid trails. We were lost. I felt that if we continued ahead we would eventually find our forest again, but we were clearly in the middle of no-where and too far from a forest to spot anything promising. The saving grace is that there were sticks in the ground about every 100 yards with little plastic flags tied around them back the way we had come, so disappointingly, Frank suggested we turn back. I was close to tears at the thought of going back through that awful stuff but we really didn’t have many options at this point. We turned back. Another two hours later, wet and freezing we hit the edge of the trees where we had emerged. We double-checked the signposts to confirm that we were in fact on a marked trail. Hmmm. Mystery why anyone would send people out there! Happily we were back in the protected part of the hiking area and couldn’t to get back to the cabin fast enough.

Once back in the room, we stripped our mud covered clothes tossing them all into the shower. When I got down to my shoes I shrieked! There were leeches sticking out of my shoes, stuck to my shoelaces and one on my hand that had burrowed in through my glove. As I got the shoes off I found blood spots all over my socks, and noticed that there were brown slimy things in the blood. EEK! Leeches were sucking my blood through my socks! I began pulling them off as quickly as I could and only afterward began to realize the pain in my feet. Searing pain. Pain that felt like flaming hot pokers were stabbing me. Frank also had some leeches but not as many because his shoes were leather; mine leather with mesh. He seemed nonplussed by the leech bites (or whatever they are called). I must have been having an allergic reaction because large red welts began to form all over my toes and feet, and the bite marks were very pronounced. I was horrified. We soaked and soaked our socks and shoes and then set all of the wet stuff around the base of our fireplace to dry. There were two leeches still stuck to my laces and as they felt the heat they tried raising themselves up and reaching out, like grisly tentacles. It was grotesque to see these things groping at the air. I seriously thought I was going to be sick. Frank urged me to just go get cleaned up and dressed for dinner. We had reservations in the fine dining restaurant that night.

Later, sitting in wing-backed chairs not far from the fireplace in the large dining room, we enjoyed an amazing 5-star dinner. Our taste buds were so happy that for a short while my stings, bites and burns were all but forgotten. The welt on my finger was an ugly reminder of the trauma earlier endured. We relaxed and enjoyed a lovely dining experience. After our coffee and dessert we ambled out to the reception area where we bumped into the staff member who had presented the previous evening’s slide show. We told him about our experience that afternoon. Shockingly his reaction was admonishment! We were scolded for having ventured out onto forbidden terrain. He went on and on about how dangerous that area was and how fortunate we were not to have encountered deadly snakes and the like. Whu-the??? When we explained to him that the trail markers and signs pointed to it and that there was no warning sign, do not enter sign or circle with a slash through it forbidding entrance to that particular trail he mere shrugged and mumbled something like, well there should have been. Odd fellow.

We returned to our room where I popped into the spa tub to soak my throbbing leech bites. Frank kicked back with a beer and a book. There is no television, radio or internet here. It was a bit too chilly out to sit on our balcony, so he lit a fire and kicked back.

Monday morning, our shoes and socks were still wet so we set them in the back window to dry in the sun. We loaded up on a hearty breakfast and then hit the road. We had a long drive down to Hobart ahead of us.