[This is the last of five posts in the series Tasmaniacs]
Queenstown is a copper mining town about forty kilometres inland from Strahan in Tasmania’s West Coast Ranges. Tourism Tasmania claims it “was once the richest mining town in the world”, although they give no indication as to when that might have been or for how long. I’m guessing fifteen minutes during the depression of the 1890’s. It is a dubious distinction in any case. Like all mining towns, Queenstown has had its ups and downs, but the general direction has been down for a long time.
We stopped for petrol and a toilet, and didn’t expect much more. After fulfilling our needs, a stroll down the main drag, Orr Street, revealed a surprisingly charming town centre. Handsome Victorian structures intermingled with once grand pubs and hotels, most now closed and decaying, weathered, withered and warn, hinting of glory days long gone. Continue reading 05. Gay Gordons, Top to Bottom
I awoke in the dark before sunrise without the faintest idea where I was. Then I remembered: nowhere. I decided this was okay, since I had nothing to do. I went back to sleep.
Two hours later I awoke to a panoramic view, bright blue skies over the dark blue waters of Strahan’s Macquarie Harbour, wind ripples on its surface crackling the reflected sunshine. I like nowhere.
The thing to do in Strahan is take the award-winning life-changing Gordon River Cruise into the Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park, part of the UN recognised Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. For only $350 we could be in Captain’s Class: a reclining chair by the window, air conditioned comfort, three count ‘em three viewing decks, a hot and cold buffet, and an open bar (!!) for the six hour cruise. Wow!
Wait a minute, does that say a six hour cruise? The Skipper and Gilligan went out for only three hours which ended up being 98 episodes. The idea of being trapped on a stinkpot for that duration made me shudder. I’ve never met an open bar I didn’t like, and this voyage started with a “Welcome Wine” at 8:30 in the morning. There was a fair chance my fellow passengers would throw me overboard by noon. Continue reading 04. Nowhere like Strahan
No one is more eager to get out of a hotel than parents and children sharing a room, no matter their age or stage. I thought we’d be amongst the first to get breakfast when it started at 7 am, but when we arrived at 7:10 am the restaurant was vibrant with energetic children, Moms on the edge, and Dads all too aware of how close their energetic children were putting Mom to the edge.
We found a relatively quiet spot in a windowed corner where the echoes of generational recrimination waned in acoustic insignificance. In preparation for the day’s exertions we gorged ourselves on all sorts of things real mountain climbers wouldn’t touch. And bacon.
We headed back into the park to get good use of the last five hours of our twenty-four hour pass. Regarding the shuttle bus, we adhered to the old adage “Fool me once, fuck you.” Instead, we took the more dangerous and less environmentally friendly option of driving to where we wanted to be so we could leave when we were done. The drive was easy, although it helped that we had toured it by bus the previous day.
Continue reading 03. The Ends of the Earth