24 October 2013 - Snug Beach Cabins & Caravan Park, Snug, Tasmania

The rain heard during the night did not bode well for our planned tour today. However one cannot hang about in Tasmania waiting for perfect weather or at least at this time of the year. While we have extended our scheduled time here, we are still limited by that departure date in November, and time seems to be still ticking away.

I had made lunch last night so there was little excuse for delay in our departure. We left the camp at 9 am, the distance less than ten kilometres to the ferry terminal and were there before 9.15 am as you would expect. But even then we were cutting it fine. Had we left it even minutes later we would have been amongst those left to wait for the next ferry.

Bruny Island lies about three kilometres in a straight line east of Kettering, if my measurements off the map are correct; the ferry takes about quarter of an hour to cross to Roberts Point on North Bruny Island. We were surprised at the size of the Mirambeena, a two decked 52 metre ferry built in 1991, today laden with more than fifty vehicles. We did venture out onto the deck to take a look at the coastline and the great number of yachts moored at the Kettering Marina, but it was far too windy and cold to linger long. Instead we stayed in the landcruiser and hoped for better weather on the far shore.

Live fish farms

Alas it was not, in fact not anywhere at all on all of Bruny Island. Geographically Bruny Island is actually two land masses that are joined by a long, narrow sandy isthmus, like so many geographical features on this part of the coast. On arrival we set off for the south, intending to work our way back as time allowed, as did everyone else, evident by the long snake of traffic from the ferry terminal. There is little at Roberts Point apart from a takeaway store catering for those who miss the ferry and have to wait for the next; they run between during daylight hours at intervals of one to one and a half hours.

The tourist brochure likens Bruny Island to Singapore, but only in the sense of land mass, because unlike Singapore with its population of about six million people, Bruny Island has but around six hundred and fifty permanent residents. 

From Roberts Point, looking across toward Barnes Bay, we noted the same tall structures we had seen off the Tasman Peninsula, which I suggested were shellfish farms. Seen from above today, we realised they were the live fish holding farms similar to those seen off the Eyre Peninsula around Port Lincoln.

Cape Bruny Neck Game Reserve

Many of us stopped off at the Cape Bruny Neck Game Reserve to see the Short Tailed Shearwater and Fairy Penguin rookery. These birds don’t often share the same breeding space; this is one of the exceptions. A long stairway extends from the car park to the top of the Big Hummock and offers views over the reserve and up and down the coastline, west to the D’Entrecasteau Channel and east to the Tasman Sea. The wind was so strong, this was not a pleasant outing at all; in one gust I saved myself by grabbing out to an Asian tourist who probably wondered what I was doing. We descended a further series of steps down to the shore from where one can watch the Fairy Penguins come ashore at dusk, however we were far too early and not keen to stay another minute.

We drove on to South Bruny Island, down the west coast through Alonnah which hosts the one police station and hotel, a store and the school, then on south to Lunawanna, more a locality than a settlement with just a hall, then on up over steeper country through forest and past a long settled sheep farm, soon entering the South Bruny National Park. I had high hopes of walking in the National Parks here on the island but the weather was just foul.

At the Cape Bruny Lighthouse we emerged from the vehicle just long enough to call into the “museum”, a modest collection showing the history of the lighthouse, manned by a volunteer ranger from up on the Murray River. He and his wife had taken on the role for ten weeks and had subjected themselves to the freezing conditions for just two weeks so far. The ranger told us how he had been wearing his woollen beany to bed every night, how the fire just sucked up the firewood and how the wind howled through the gaps in the house. I asked if his wife was suggesting they should repeat the voluntary role next year; he chuckled and said she wasn’t keen to come here again but was not against the work, per se.

From the museum we could see snow on the mountains of the Hartz Range on the mainland (snow had been forecasted in Tasmania for all areas over 400 metres and these were far higher than that). We could also see across the wild southern sea to East Cloudy Head, Tasman Head and The Friars, and agreed that a Bruny Island Cruise today would have been absolutely hideous. Closer to hand stood the Cape Bruny Lighthouse, not very far up the hill at all, but the thought of fighting the wind for colder and equal views did not excite.

We retreated to the northern end of the National Park and lunched at Jetty Beach, still inside but under lovely trees and views of Great Taylors Bay beyond. There were some hardy fools here camping in tents and like structures; today marks a public holiday for Tasmania, Hobart’s Show Day or People’s Day, and many are, no doubt, taking a very long weekend.

Again we could have taken advantage of a walk staring here, that out around Point Labillardiere; we left it to the hardy campers.

Distant Cape Bruny Lighthouse

We drove back out of the park on the dreadfully potholed dirt road, back to Lunawanna, then turned east up into the Bruny Island State Forest up a forest track of just eleven kilometres, a short cut in distance but not in time. We pulled off onto a muddy steep track labelled ‘Lookout” and wondered what we had got ourselves into. I alighted to take the obligatory photograph over the forest toward Cloudy Bay and Chris locked the front wheels for our exit, which turned out less problematic than I expected. The tall slim stringy barked gums were beautiful, offering some of their debris as road base, but none so big as to create an obstacle.

We emerged onto the main road that sweeps around the lower shore of Adventure Bay, and followed it to the end. Here is the start to the Fluted Cape Walk, one I had been keen to do, at least when I planned the day away from the weather. It is here that one sometimes sees the rare white kangaroos but arriving at the road end, already having come through two hail storms in the last hour, we realised it would be quite foolish to set out on the two and a half hour walk. We had to settle for the birdlife and an echidna, the latter intent on playing chicken until we stopped and waited for his retreat.

Memorial in Adventure Bay

Here at Adventure Bay are several monuments to the explorers who have made their mark in this part of the world and put Bruny Island into the history books. Abel Tasman first sighted the island in 1642. Captain James Cook visited Adventure Bay in 1777 with the ships Resolution and Discovery. Captain William Bligh visited Bruny four times and it was from here that he left on the Bounty for Tahiti and the famous mutiny. It was this same Bligh who planted Australia’s first fruit trees at East Cove.

The French explorer Bruni D’Entrecasteaux (after whom the island and the channel were named) also visited in 1792 and disproved both Cook’s and Bligh’s assumptions that the Island was part of mainland Tasmania.

After examining the various memorial structures, we headed east then north again, across The Neck and as far north as the road could take us, the most northern part of the road running along a high ridge from where we had beautiful views across to the South Arm and the wide waters that are in fact the mouth of the Derwent River.

The holiday settlement of Dennes Point lies on the western corner of Kelly’s Point and is nothing but a string of homes that lie empty most of the year. We followed the shoreline south again, over farmed hills (for there is far more by way of agricultural activities here on the northern part of the island) and down into Barnes Bay, a very sheltered bay with numerous secret coves. Soon we were back onto the road toward the ferry terminal, in time to board the 3.15 pm ferry rather than the 4.30 pm we had originally intended. Our trip had been disappointing as regards the weather and the limitations caused by that, however we both agreed that Bruny Island was a very beautiful place and well worth the effort we had taken, albeit an abbreviated one.

Back at Snug, we took time to check out the information plaques and posters at the beach reserve where we had lunched yesterday. We discovered that Snug and the surrounding area suffered devastation and loss from bushfires in February 1967, the town of Snug almost burned to the ground.

It is a sobering thought indeed to consider the following statistics for Black Tuesday, 7 February 1967 as we learn of the devastation and on-going horror of the current fires in New South Wales. Over forty six years ago, sixty two lives were lost, 1,085 houses, 233 cottages or shacks, 128 commercial and public buildings, 104 bridges and 150 vehicles were destroyed. 265,000 hectares of land were burnt out and 80,000 livestock, mostly sheep, died. 4,320 kilometres of fencing were destroyed and there was wholesale devastation of telephone and hydro lines and equipment. In total the damage was estimated at $40 million; in today’s money that would be a whole lot more.

We returned home and took in the updated news, nearly all about the fires up north. And that which was not, was about the increase of crocodiles turning up on the North Queensland beaches and parents withdrawing their kids from the lifesaving classes. Well, wouldn’t you? Shoot the critters, I say; the crocs, not the kids.