Today could have been one of those days travellers could do without, offering neither education nor rest, neither pleasure nor thrills. On the scale of one to ten of travel joys, it was not very far up there but was better than expected.
We were up and away early, plunging into
Hobart’s traffic rush, making the quarter hour trip twice that long, however we
still arrived at Barry Cooper’s Auto
Repairs before the scheduled time. We were advised the work could take most
of the day and so we set off with our backpacks down Elizabeth Street into the
city, a distance of a little less than two kilometres, enjoying the eclectic
mix of restaurants and early morning cafes along the way as we passed through
North Hobart. The Elizabeth Street Mall was still very quiet. We wandered
through a couple of side malls looking in vain for a McDonalds apart from a
small counter affair in a small food hall. Finally we gave up and walked on
down to the Information Centre where we learned where both the Scottish
restaurant and the library were, stopping by the Centro transport office to
enquire after bus routes and fare structures. The one decent size MacDonalds
was back up the hill on the edge of North Hobart; there we found this rather
out of the way place and sat over the worst cup of coffee we have ever had in
our favourite El Cheapo café. Serves us right, I guess, for not patronising a
real café although we are not likely to change at this stage in our lives.
Still, we lingered, pouring over our maps and
discussing travel options over the next few days, and taking into account the
urgency we have been feeling has been dealt with by a rescheduling of our
return ferry trip to the mainland. Finally we made our way to the State Library
where we found, to our immense delight, a small museum tucked away on the
ground floor; the Allport Library and Museum of Fine Art.
This is an extraordinary collection of fine and
rare books, colonial works of art, eighteenth and early nineteenth century
furniture, silver glass, fine china and objets d’art, all donated by Henry
Allport in 1965. He was the fourth generation of a wealthy family who first
settled in Van Diemen’s Land in 1831. The Allport bequest remains one of the
most generous in Tasmania’s history and was an absolute treasure to discover.
We spent some time admiring the rooms that have been established here in the
library, marvelling that one family could have accumulated so much richesse in possessions.
Buoyed by such a bonus, we settled ourselves
into the reading rooms upstairs with a variety of reading matter and remained
there until just after midday, when we returned to the Elizabeth Street Mall to
find a spot in the sun for our lunch. By now the mall was full of shoppers,
workers and tourists, or should I say “full” by Tasmanian standards. We sat out of the wind serenaded by a
blue-grass fiddler whose very lengthy strains finally became too much and we
moved on. We people-watched as we are prone to do, whispering disparaging
comments about the passers-by to each other, greatly amused by our mutual
rudeness. Such are the pastimes of the retired observers of life; people
beware!
We returned to the library where I retrieved
the book I had been reading and curled up in the warmth by the window while the
winds blowing fiercely outside. By the time we received a text from the garage
to say the landcruiser was ready for collection, I had read about 150 pages of
Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall, a literary
prize winning work all the better for being in Large Print. This was a first
for me, the large print that is; what a discovery that was. When I am once more
in a house and have a local library at my disposal, I shall make use of this
facility offered by most libraries designed for those with fading eyesight.
Another frailty of losing one’s youth! And of course I will have to source the
half read book sometime in the future; I hate abandoning a book. It suggests
failure and I hate to fail or give up on anything.
Another plus for the day was the invoice for
the mechanical service, more than one hundred dollars less than quoted. On the
way back we called into the Woolworths supermarket at Glenorchy and stocked up
on fresh fruit and vegetables; we do seem to consume a lot of these.
I must also use this space to have a grizzle
about free camping courtesy. For the past day or two, a Hymer motorhome was
parked near us here in the park. It is frustrating when you are travelling in a
self-contained rig to be obliged to pay for a space in a built up area. We are
sympathetic to this not only as caravanners ourselves but also as motorhomers.
The New Zealand Caravan and Motorhome Association and the CMCA here spell out
the general courtesy to be exercised when it comes to parking up, especially in
a built up area. One of those rules is about not camping within a certain
distance of a commercial camping ground, and certainly not within view of one.
We also acknowledge that these same commercial operations lobby local councils
and shires so that their own interests are paramount. It is a brave public body
who upsets the tourist operators.
However our gripe is with the travellers in
this Hymer who parked down here in the bay, within view of the camp and right
up close to the boundary of the camp. How is that for audacity!!!? In New
Zealand we have our club numbers on our van and such behaviour would be reported
to the Association; the members would be reprimanded and risk being
excommunicated. Shame on these people here in Hobart!!! You know who you are!
And the weather today? By the time we set off
back to North Hobart on foot, the skies had clouded over and we were subjected
to bursts of wind-driven rain. Since arriving home, the rain has set in for
real although the wind which was buffeting the caravan a little earlier, has
disappeared.
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