11 October 2012 - Spring Bay Hotel, Triabunna, Tasmania

I often tell myself that the journey is just as important as the destination; today’s journey was certainly one to write home about. The weather forecast suggested that there might be showers and that the moderate winds would decrease during the afternoon.

We joined the many on the Triabunna wharf, queuing to board one of the two tour boats transferring tourists across to Maria Island for the day or more, or for those intending to stay on in the modest accommodation available on shore. We were travelling on the Spirit of Maria, the faster, smaller and newer of the two ferries. Our route was somewhere in the vicinity of eighteen kilometres down the harbour and straight across the Mercury Passage from Orford, to the jetty on the north end of the island, near the fading settlement of Darlington.

The boat sped out across the very choppy water, pounding up and down, keeping everyone securely in their seats rather than sunning themselves on the deck or attempting to make a cup of coffee from the dispenser. The deckhand, the wife of the captain, struggled to tie us up to the wharf, such were the conditions, however once secure, we had more fun reaching the shore. Waves splashed in over the shore end of the jetty and it was only with care that one could dash across the gap and remain dry.

Up above the jetty, I chatted with a chap clad in a fluoro vest who was part of a group undertaking some sort of upgrade on the wharf. “Is it always like this?”, I asked. He told me that it often was at this time of the year, although this was rather extreme. He told me too that the work they had completed last week had all been undermined by the wild sea over the past few days. A little later in the day when I checked the progress of their work, I found no one there at all. They obviously considered the exercise rather pointless, at least for today.

We checked in with the ranger in the old commissariat building and were told that we would do well to centre our activity on the eastern side of the island rather than the west. This was a disappointment given that neither Chris nor I were too interested in the Fossil Cliffs. We had been looking forward to doing the walk to the Painted Cliffs on the western shore, a gentle one to two hour stroll to view the multi-coloured sandstone cliffs which in the brochure looked a little like Hyden’s Wave Rock in Western Australia.

Old reservoir

The ranger suggested that we might enjoy including the Reservoir Circuit into the Fossil Cliff Circuit before returning along the northern end of the island and exploring the historic township of Darlington. Given the howling westerly gales, this seemed to be an excellent idea, so we set off, soon up into a sheltered gully and eucalypt forest. Here we saw and heard many of the promised birds, pardalotes, honey-eaters, Tasmania Native Hens and fantails to name but a few. Arriving at the old convict built dam, we found a log on which to sit and eat our lunch, while watching tree martins and swallows swoop and dive over the surface of the lake. The scene was very peaceful especially after being buffeted by the stormy winds.

We continued on, emerging from the forest by an old quarry and then climbed up over still clear hills, evidence of the farming that was undertaken many years ago and down to the sheltered cliff ledge on the eastern shore where we did indeed see many fossils.

Maria Island has had an interesting history and it is this, as well as the rugged coastline and wildlife that draws the tourist. Mt Maria rises to 709 metres and requires more than a day trip to conquer. Bishop and Clerk, rising to 630 metres is within the reach of a day tripper but leaves no time for further exploration. If the seas rise as some of the scientists warn they will, Maria Island may become two islands because for now these two land masses are tentatively joined by the narrowest of isthmuses. This too requires more than a day trip to discover for one’s self.   

1825 saw the establishment of a convict settlement at Darlington, housing between fifty and two hundred and fifty nine convicts as well as the Commandant, supervising officers, overseers and about fifteen military guards. Initially the island was considered a most appropriate penal location, its rugged coast line and island status making escape impossible, however after several desperate and resourceful escapes,  the station was abandoned and inhabitants moved to Port Arthur, after a mere seven years of operation.

After the closure of the convict settlement, one George Meredith leased the island for the purpose of shore-based, or bay whaling. In 1834, a Mr Seal (rather aptly named don’t you think?) took over the lease of the Darlington whaling station using some of the old convict buildings for storage.

Between 1842 and 1859, Darlington was again a destination for convicts, this time as a probation station. A number of new buildings were erected during this period, and a second  convict station was built at Point Leseur (or Long Point).

Darlington was considered to be one of the most successful of the twenty eight convict stations in Van Dieman’s Land, with superior accommodation provided for both staff and prisoners. The station proved to be productive both agriculturally and industrially. At one time there were three hundred and sixty three acres cultivated in wheat, hops, potatoes, flax, turnips, and miscellaneous vegetables.

After the close of the convict station, the island was leased out for farming and used as a base for fishermen. The Bernacchi period from 1884 to 1900 changed all this, with Diego Bernacchi and his Belgian wife Barbe leasing the island and establishing a wine and silk industry. Darlington was renamed San Diego and at the peak of this era, two hundred and fifty people lived and worked on the island. Within two years of arriving, 180,000 grape vines had been planted along with four hundred mulberry trees to feed the silk worms which were to be purchased from Europe. Other industries such as the production of cement, marble, timber products and a range of fruit and vegetables were to follow. Huge sums of money were poured into the enterprise. Despite the initial prejudice against this “foreign” entrepreneur, Bernacchi was soon embraced as one of Tasmania’s own. However the depression years of the 1890s saw a change in fortunes. Several banks closed and Bernacchi’s fledgling and largely still unproductive enterprise collapsed due to lack of finance.

Through the years 1922 to 1930, there was another boom period for the island. This era, although short, was the most productive in Maria Island’s history. Around six hundred people converged on the sleepy settlement of Darlington to work at what was a massive industrial undertaking for Tasmania, the National Portland Cement Company’s quarry and cement works.

An industrial sized jetty with a gantry crane reached out into deep water. A sixty metre tall slip-formed concrete chimney reached for the sky and large angular buildings housed engines, furnaces, mills and power generating plants. But this was doomed to be yet another short lived exercise. There were many problems importing coal, shipping difficulties and overall problems with the quality of the cement. The company was making a profit of only one shilling per ton initially when it should have been making a pound per ton. The onset of the Great Depression in 1930 was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

In the 1960s the Animals and Birds Protection Board decided that Maria Island would be converted into a wildlife reserve. In 1971 the National Parks and Wildlife Service was formed and one year later, Maria Island was officially declared a National Park.

Cape Barren Geese

On arrival we had been delighted to see the dozens of Cape Barren Geese grazing upon the open grasslands. They were not at all concerned by our presence although did become a little aggressive when Chris tried to get up close and personal with an adult who was protecting her chicks.

I had checked out the island and its attractions on-line a couple of days before, trying to ascertain whether we should bother with a visit. Many accounts raved about the mobs of wombats grazing on the open fields, sounding like those we saw at the Narawntapu National Park just east of Devonport, although far more numerous. Alas today we saw absolutely none; perhaps they feel the same way as us about the wind.

The Tasmanian Devils were also lying low, but this is to be expected. They are a timid creature and were more likely peering out at us as we made our way up through the heavier bush. We have seen reports on the television over the past few years about the hideous Devil Facial Tumour Disease which has been decimating the already threatened species, perhaps even 80% already wiped out. As part of the project to save these curious creatures, who do look marginally more attractive without their facial tumours, the wildlife service has been attempting to establish isolated healthy populations in areas protected from the diseased devils. Maria Island has proved to be such an appropriate place and in November 2012 about a dozen devils were released onto the island with further staged introductions planned over a two year period.

I have since learned on line that in April 2013, the government service engaged in this project announced that there were signs of breeding devils. This is course good news for their otherwise dwindling populations. For those who do not know about these animals, they are the largest surviving carnivorous marsupial. They have a stocky muscular build, pungent odour, extremely loud and disturbing screech, keen sense of smell and ferocity when feeding. The devils large head and neck allow it to generate amongst the strongest bite per unit body mass of any extant mammal land predator and its hunts prey and scavenges carrion as well as eating household products if humans are living nearby. Don’t they just sound like the most attractive pet?

As we fought our way across the top of the island, we passed the airstrip which today would have been a death trap for any attempted landing craft. We paused at the fenced cemetery and attempted to decipher the inscriptions on the old grave stones. The last person to be buried on the island was Rosa Adkins, who had arrived on the island in 1890 with her husband of twenty years. Thomas was Works Manager of the first cement works and died that same year while preparing a sample of cement for the 1890 Melbourne Exhibition.  Rosa however was a survivor, and aided by her seven children, became a pastoralist and also ran the boarding house on the island. She died at about 100 years of age.

The ferry for home attempting to dock

While wandering through the open heritage buildings of the Darlington town remains, I learned a most curious fact. In 1846 five Maori chiefs were transported to Maria Island for rebellion. Hohepa Te Umeroa from the Wanganui area died on the island of tuberculosis and was also buried on the island while his fellow rebels were eventually pardoned and returned home. Te Umeroa’s remains were finally repatriated to New Zealand in 1988.

Despite the fact we were precluded from exploring more of the island than we would have, had the weather been better, the five hours passed quickly and soon we were all huddled back in the old commissariat building waiting for the ferry to arrive. The wind had not abated one bit, in fact seemed even worse. Great waves washed over the wharf and when the ferry did arrive, it took some time to fasten it securely to the wharf. Even then it lurched and bucked and it was quite an effort to get passenger or freight on board. We were all then asked to remain firmly seated all the way back, hang on tight and pray. (That last bit is a lie.) It was quite a trip back and one I am sure the tour operators would have preferred to have cancelled however they could hardly leave us on the island; our sandwiches and apples were all eaten and I was longing for a hot drink. I for one was happy to be back on terra firma but had definitely had an excellent day.