Tassie DAY ONE—Finding The Edge of the World

The next morning, the ship docked at 6 am. Tasmania was still dark. As the sun started to rise, we found ourselves in the tiny, picturesque town of Penguin. We watched the sun rise over the water:

Every single person we saw smiled and said hello. The front yards were all beautifully landscaped. People walked along the beach with the dogs. It was quiet, almost no traffic. Caroline has decided to retire here: the perfect retreat for a writer. As a memento of what she’s working for, she picked up Penguin, a small stuffed toy with an incredible personality.

Next we drove through Burnie, another small town but bigger than Penguin, and walked around a pretty little duck pond:

We were driving an ocean road, heading straight towards Table Cape, so we stopped at the scenic outlook to see what we could see. As we parked, nothing but blue ocean lay stretched out in front of us. Caroline said, “Boy, I’d hate to fall of the edge of the world here,” And that’s exactly how I would describe it. The edge of the world.

Nearby stood a lighthouse, so we checked that out next:

Then we found ourselves in the very quiet, tropical Fernglade Reserve, hunting Platypus.

Edging our way south, we kept moving. Tasmanian is truly an island unto its own—unique and diverse and mostly untouched. There are sky-high mountains, towering 1500 meters above sea level, surrounding vast bowls of unfenced, vibrant pasture. Rivers and lakes snake through the landscape, reflecting the peaks and sky. The roads twist and turn up and around the mountains, providing breath-taking views to landscapes I’ve never seen before. In Tasmania, if you’re not looking up at a mountain, you’re looking down at the valleys and forests. Around each corner is a new landscape, literally. One minute you’re driving through thick forests and ferns, the next you could be seeing nothing but plains of burnt-orange grass and bleached-white tree trunks. And just when you think you’ve seen it all, there’s something else.

Next we stopped at Fossil Bluff. At first glance, I thought the bluff earned its name from these awesome rocks:

But once I actually neared the bluff, I could see the real reason:

Fossil Bluff was a nice little discovery—I was surprised at how much I really liked it. I quickly got caught up in beachcombing, not for shells, but for rocks. The waves had polished them all so smoothly, I almost felt like stealing for taking a handful.

After the beach, we took the exit for Guide Falls. I’ve always wanted to see a real waterfall—a big one—so when we walked down the path and saw this pathetic little river cascading over a pathetic two-foot drop, I was disappointed to say the least. But the sound of more water caught my attention, and I was appropriately awe-struck when we continued down the path and saw this:

We left Guide Falls in good spirits and continued our on out way to our accommodation, Cradle Mountain Chateau. Caroline had booked us a room at this 4 and a half star resort, claiming the price was unbelievably low for such a prestigious place, so we were pretty interested to see what we’d find. But first, we stumbled across a cemetery:

And then finally, made it to the resort. The doors are decorated with tourism awards and signs promoting the spa. The foyer is wide and bright with polished wood floors. Our room was large, came with a stocked fridge and bright, clean bathroom, and smelled great. A notebook lists all the available tours and activities available, including twilight canoe trips and lake tours and moonlight animal tours. Very impressive. And best of all, the Chateau is geared toward older people and couples; no screaming kids as in Rydges.

For dinner we forewent the $45 dollar per person buffet and ate in The Grey Gum, planning to stick to entrees and desert for half the price. I ordered seared tuna and Caroline ordered some kind of beef—and there was a moment of hesitation from the waiter when we told him that was all. Should have been a clue.

In the meantime, we were served bread with oil and herbs. It was great, but Caroline jokingly said it was probably a handout because the waiter felt sorry for us, since the only thing we ordered was entrées. Haha.

Five minutes later, the waitress appeared and set our plates down. My ‘seared tuna on a bed of green lentils’ was four slivers of raw fish on half a cup of lentils with some parsley laid on top. Caroline’s beef was raw as well, cut into paper-thin fillets the size of a USB drive. We looked at each other.

My tuna wasn’t bad—actually, it was pretty good. Caroline couldn’t really even taste her ‘dinner’. But we both ate it, and the side of roasted potatoes she’d thankfully ordered, and the bread, and actually we were full. But we’d definitely learned our lesson.

The more expensive a meal is, the smaller it is.