It’s an odd thing, striking out on a long journey. It never feels very real on day one. We plot and plan for so long that when the day finally arrives, it’s never quite as we have imagined it would be.
The touring kit, probably weighed about 40-45kg all up including the bike. Note the cardboard tube attached to the back rack. It contained our rolled up ‘Restore Pedder’ banner. The tube was completely wrapped up with sticky tape in an effort to stop the cardboard from dissolving in the rain.
We departed Hobart early in the morning of Day 1. It was the 16th March, 2022.
I encountered difficulties with my front shifter upon hitting the first climb up to Glenlusk. I eventually figured out that the new waterbottle holder I had put on the previous day was blocking the path of the front gear mechanism and so it couldn’t shift down to granny gear. Once the waterbottle holder was removed, the issue was mainly solved and we were able to continue.
Pat shot out as soon as we hit the incline, and I was left to my own devices, huffing and puffing, wondering if there was anything in my panniers that could have been left at home. Pat waited for me at the top and we took the winding descent to Molesworth. My greatest regret of the trip ended up being: not picking the overladen blackberry bushes along this section of the road!
We stopped at New Norfolk to get some water, then continued along the course of the Derwent River to Gretna, where we read about the life of the bushranger, Martin Cash. Apparently after he broke out from Port Arthur, he ended up at the inn near Gretna, to have a drink but it wasn’t long before the police arrived. After a shootout in which the police were subdued, Martin went back in the pub, finished the bottle of brandy, then left in a hurry.
The glaciated nature of the Central Plateau is undeniable. 2019.
The Central Plateau of Tasmania is an enormous highlands region bounded by the Great Western Tiers to the north, Lake Rowallan and Lake St Clair to the west, the Lyell Highway to the south and the Midlands Highway to the east. Looking at a geological map of Tasmania, the Central Plateau is arguably the most obvious geological feature.
I personally think of the Central Plateau as the heart of Tasmania, being central and of an elevated position.
Undulating grazing country, between Hollow Tree and Bothwell.
Approaching the Central Plateau from the south leads one to ride through a dry, undulating country that gradually increases in elevation. There was a remarkable section of sealed road from Hollow Tree to Bothwell. This was an arid landscape of brown farmland, mostly dried out pastures giving home to sheep, except for the greener patches where the giant boomsprays operated. There were quite a few abandoned weatherboard houses, most of them in disrepair, remnant artifacts from the 1800s. One house looked either haunted by ghosts or squatters. In hindsight, I’m not sure which.
When we got to Bothwell, we set up camp at the free caravan park by the graveyard.
The gravestones in Bothwell stood nearly as crooked as the branches of two trees that were peculiarly identical.
Bothwell to Steppe was 34km, a distance which took us four hours to ride the next morning. We must have gained about 700-800m in elevation; the ascent with our load was slow and reasonably grueling. We had our morning break at the historic Steppes Household, home to the constable appointed in the 1860s, a household which eventually turned from outpost to post office. There was a cute A frame hut in the garden, which used to belong to Jack Thwaites. It had a Currawong sympol on it and made me want to spend some time inside but alas it was locked. There was also a great art installation near the homestead by Steven Walker; a circle of 12 stones with metal engravings depicting some local animals and plants.
Tassie Devil by the side of the road, on the way to Miena.
From Steppe to Miena we were battling steady headwinds and we drafted behind each other to ease progress. We had left the sheep paddocks behind and were riding through native sub alpine forest dotted with cidergums and underlaid by pink mountainberries. Wallabies darted among the scrub from time to time as we rode past.
At one point we pulled over to take a break by the side of the road, and I started watering a particularly large eucalypt tree. Suddenly, I found myself leaping into the air uncontrollably! I had been bit on the achilles by a rather grumpy bull ant, who was letting me know that I have stood on their nest. The ground was swarming with inchmen so I decided to finish watering the tree from a different location.
The hut of Jack Thwaites, at the Steppes Homestead near Miena.
We passed the dam on the Great Lake with relief, as this meant we were close to our lunch stop. It was 3pm so it took us about 6 hours to ride 64km. This was slow progress indeed. We had a hot beef-shitake-miso-lunch then cruised on.
The following section took us past the shore of the Great Lake, through undulating forest, and a smattering of shacks along the way. Tin roofs and walls, large windows and a healthy wood stack seemed to be common themes. The bush through here was serene. The wind had calmed and there must have been rain earlier as the road was wet and the air smelt as it does after fresh rain.
The final climb up to the Great Lake Lookout wasn’t as bad as we anticipated. It was funny, I seemed to hit a rhythm on the bike which I felt I could sustain for a long time. But when we finally stopped I felt I couldn’t move.
We set up camp on one of the viewing platforms at Pine Lake, among the Pencil Pines, who gave us shelter from the wind.
The pines played their lullabies, leaves whispering in the wind.
To be continued…