6 October 2014 - Big4 St Helens Holiday Park, St Helens, Tasmania

We were up in time to breakfast before the final match of the Rugby Championships in Argentina, to watch the best game the Wallabies have played all season, beating the Pumas, 54:17. “Thrashing” was the word used in the media, but they would wouldn’t they, after having been “thrashed” themselves for most of the season. Maliciously I was hoping that they would be beaten again, presented with the “wooden spoon”; symbolism for the loser’s trophy. Australian’s are so very good at sport, and they do give Kiwi’s a hard time. I have been thrilled to see the All Blacks remain at the top of the table.

It was late in the morning when we finally set out to explore the area immediately around St Helens, by which time the sky had clouded over. Fortunately the unpleasant winds of the previous days had moved on to be bothersome elsewhere.

We followed the shoreline of Georges Bay, across the river source of the bay, the road now above the water levels but the flood signs still out in warning. Within ten kilometres from St Helens we turned east into the Humbug Hill Nature Reserve and onto a gravel road that took us out along the peninsula that forms the northern arm of Georges Bay, through tall gums and down to the ocean. From here we had views over the Bay of Fires stretching north for thirty five kilometres. The beaches in this bay were recently voted the second best beaches in the world; now that is some boast! Much of the coastline is covered in large orange lichen covered rocks, and the spaces in between, lovely white sand reaching out to the clear blue Tasman Sea, even lovely under the clouds today.

Lichen covered rocks

We walked out to Skeleton Point, one of the many points on this peninsula forming the southern arm of the Bay, before continuing on along the gravel road until we reached the small seaside settlement of Binalong Bay. Surprisingly it has a population of just over two hundred people and yet our cursory inspection today suggested only a few dozen smart holiday homes. Most must be tucked up on the hill well hidden in the trees. We saw no services at all although there once was a post office here, between the years 1966 and 1973.

We carried on up the coast, back on to the sealed road which follows the coast line, passing between the ever attractive shoreline and a series of shallow lagoons, all included in the Bay of Fires Conservation Area. A couple of black yellow tailed cockatoos rose up from the scrub alongside the road; a small flock of this wonderful species had flown across the camp this morning. There are numerous camping areas all along the shore; it would be a lovely place to hang about if one needed to recuperate or simply fudge out for a day or three. Unfortunately when one is on a travel schedule, such lay-days are not allowed.

The Gardens

The map shows the small settlement of The Gardens to be the last on this coastal road north, although Mount William National Park further north can be accessed by a route from further west. I have no idea why The Gardens is named thus, however we did find it very attractive in the same way a garden can be. Piles of orange dressed rocks, pretty shallow white sand floored inlets, clusters of green bushes and a scarcity of houses; all just lovely. Had the sun been shining, the temperatures warmer, and our grandchildren at hand, we could have all enjoyed a picnic and swim. However we had already dined, it was far too cold and our family is far across that Tasman Sea.

We retraced our route back to St Helens and now headed out toward St Helens Point, along the southern arm of Georges Bay, through Stieglitz and Akaroa, coastal suburbs of St Helens. The sea was so very calm; pelicans hung about a couple of boat ramps and the scene was just delightful. We drove to the end of the road, to the boat ramp beyond the entry to the bay, and then drove back a little to Blanche Beach from where we were able to access the breakwall entrance. The map suggests that the bay opens wide to the sea beyond, however it is in fact quite lagoon-like, the opening only the size of a fast deep river.

Leathery seaweed at Blanche Beach

We walked along the beach, across the ripples on the wet white sand, over small piles of assorted sea weed, skirted around a couple of oyster catchers intent on their hunting, and a pair of small plovers, striped and plump, not easily identified in our bird book. Here the wind had picked up and we returned to the landcruiser, our faces icy cold.

Back at camp we plotted our travels for the week ahead and booked into a caravan park in Hobart for next Saturday and beyond. There is a camping and leisure show in Hobart next weekend and we thought caravan sites might be scarce.

Chris popped down to the waterfront and came back with two packets of fish and chips; dinner was delicious. We caught up with Kit and his wife, Kyla, whose birthday is tomorrow, and with my parents who had just returned from a fortnight’s trip down country checking up on friends and extended family.

It started to rain while we were having dinner; I hope it will come to nothing. I think we have had enough of Tasmania’s poorer weather. 

I had better close this down and join my husband watching the Rugby League final on the television. Eighty three thousand fans are noisily doing the same in Sydney and goodness knows how many in their warm living rooms. At least I do not have to worry about national loyalties tonight.