14 November 2013 - Deloraine Apex Caravan Park, Deloraine, Tasmania

Joy! Sunshine and dry weather in which to pack up camp! This morning we had less than seventy kilometres to travel and all on highway travelled before. We were as delighted with the rural scenery between Devonport and Deloraine as we had been when we came this way on our way to Launceston on 1 October. In the interim many centimetres of rain have fallen, winds have blown and the temperatures have climbed marginally; spring is now further on in Tasmania, while in other states, one would say that summer is more advanced.

We had telephoned ahead last night to inquire after availability of powered caravan sites and as to how the television reception was down in the bottom of the gully where we understood the park to be. We were assured a place and goggle-box happiness, so pulled into the park with little in the way of alternative plans.

Pam whom I met in Stanley, had already alerted us to the fact that the caretaker/manager lives outside the park, across the road and a clear sign confirmed this. We rang the doorbell and were duly greeted by a very stout woman in a dressing gown; her business manner was efficient if not her personal domestic schedule. It is she, apparently, who sometimes turns up on camper’s doorsteps with surplus scones, fresh from the oven; generous even if disorganised in some areas of her life.

Later we learned that the park is owned and has been run since the late 1960s by the Deloraine Apex Club which, like Rotary, Lions and Kiwanis, is a service club. Profits from the operation are ploughed back into the park and gardens and into local charities. We are in fact doing the local community a good service by staying here, so shall not make any negative comments about the $30 tariff. The caravan park is spread along the banks of the Meander River and parallel to the Hobart to Burnie railway. We were treated to our first Deloraine train soon after lunch, just less than forty carriages laden with containers. The next is passing as I start this, now a great chain of bulk mineral trucks. Pam warned us that another comes through at about 10.40 pm; the fact she mentioned the exact time of the evening train suggested to us that there is no other until daylight. Time will tell. In the meantime we are delighted with the location, and all so handy to the business area of the town, details of which I mentioned in this blog when we travelled through last time.

Immortal Malua

But I will mention here that Deloraine won the State Tidy Towns award in 1992, 1993 and 1995, and the Australian Community of the Year award in 1997. This I gleaned from Wikapedia but gives me the opportunity to expand on the Tidy Towns subject, something I find absolutely delightful here in Australia. The award is self-explanatory, the desire to win it evidence of the intense pride Australians have in their home towns. As you enter a town, there is frequently a sign that tells you that the town was Winner, or Runner-up, of the Tidy Town Award in this year or that. And for those who don’t get placed, you will sometimes find a sign that proudly declares “Entrant to the Tidy Town Award 1995”. How very PC! Kudos for taking part; it doesn’t matter if you don’t win; just like the modern mantra for children as they grow up in these modern times.

After lunch and a heavy rain shower, we walked up the hill past the pointed bluestone Catholic Church, and Blake’s Manor, formerly the Presbyterian Manse, built 1838, now a smart B&B, soon reaching the Great Western Tiers Visitor Centre. Here we were greeted by a stature of Malua, immortalising Tasmania’s greatest racing horse and Australia’s most versatile.

His achievements include winning the nation’s top races from 1100 metres up to 3200 metres, including the Newmarket Handicap 1200 m, the Oakleigh Handicap 1000 m, Adelaide Cup 2600 m and the 1884 Melbourne Cup. Partway through a successful stud career in 1886, he won the Australia Cup, then as a nine year old, won the Australian Grand National Hurdle of over 4800 m and finally the Geelong Gold Cup as a ten year old.

Yarns Artwork in Silk

Born in the neighbourhood in 1879, he was bought as a yearling and named Bagot, by Thomas Reiby, a Premier of Tasmania who lived further down the Meander Valley, then in 1882 he was bought by a trainer in Victoria and renamed Malua. It was there he did most of his racing and stood for stud, but Tasmanians never forgot his beginnings. Alas he died in 1896, still on the mainland, and it was not until 2007 that he was inducted into Australian Racing Museum’s Hall of Fame. Quite frankly, if one has to wait that long to be inducted into a Hall of Fame, why bother being a high achiever! Needless to say, Deloraine is pretty proud of its equine son.

Entering the Visitor Centre we were accosted by Jan, a Tasmanian immigrant of only forty years, but still passionate about the place. Once we explained we were here for two to four days, she loaded us up with pamphlets and maps and so many choices, along with advice that this bridge to that waterfall was currently out, and that road was closed to this walk. We were indeed grateful for this advice because it is particularly irritating to drive fifty kilometres or more to see, or do, something to find it is unavailable or not possible.

Pam and Ron, our co-campers at Stanley had sung the praises of the “Silk Exhibition” here at Deloraine, and while Chris was showing no signs of anticipation or excitement, I agreed to Jan’s suggestion that we enjoy the experience there in-house and pay the fee accordingly. Here in the centre is a small auditorium where one can sit in front of four massive wall hangings, each 4 x 4 metres, while music lights and voice explain the workings and the history of each panel. This great work, Yarns Artwork in Silk, was created by three hundred people from the local community, who spent 10,000 hours over three years on the project, using 200 metres of hand-dyed silk. Lace, wool, cotton and other applique ingredients have been used and it is quite wonderful. Even my husband had to agree with me here.

We also enjoyed the Folk Museum which is located in an old Inn, actually an attachment to the Visitor Centre. The rooms are furnished and decorated as it would have been in 1863, and brilliantly so. So often these museums are just cluttered with bric-a-brac, each theme room crammed with all the appropriate “things” donated by well-meaning souls, and all ends up as one big clutter. Here in the “Family & Commercial Inn”, there is simplicity, surely more indicative of reality.

Outdoor exhibitions

Out in the beautifully tended garden is the Pioneer walk where one can wander into reproduced or reclaimed heritage buildings showcasing the lives, tools and farming equipment of early settlers. This too is all brilliantly done.

Here we learned in regard to snaring, that it was only in 1974 that possum snaring was banned and much later, in 1988, that the snaring of roo and wallaby was banned. Finally in 1993, steel traps and all types of snaring of any animals were banned; certainly a different story to that in New Zealand.

We learned too, here at the museum, that Deloraine was the location of yet another convict probation station, operational during the years from 1843 to 1847.

Gardens of the Pioneer Walk

Tucked in the corner of the garden, so it does not clash with the charming period display, is the strangest of machines, an aquaphonium, a water powered music machine installed for public delight in 2003. Both Chris and I walked around this creation,  pushing buttons and enjoying the weird and wonderful sounds it emitted just like a couple of kids. There is a Swiss Horn, a Rotary Guitar, a Flip-Flop Bell Ringer, Pan Pipes and more; fun for all.

And on that note and after we had paused on the balcony to admire the extensive views toward the Great Western Tiers, remembering that “tier” is the Tasmanian word for “escarpment”, we left the Visitor Centre. We walked down the main street to where it meets the rail and river, crossed over the bridge and walked up along the other bank through lovely parkland, crossing the Meander River once more as we arrived opposite the caravan park. 

Our camp on the banks of the Meander River

There is only one thing I can say against this caravan park; that it is part of the riverside walking circuit enjoyed by more than just the patrons of this park. Athough there is nothing to suggest that the local citizens have a criminal bone in their body, it would be prudent to secure items before heading off to explore the tiers. Oh, I should mention, that television reception is just fine; there is harmony in the house.

Back here at camp we were able to catch up ever so briefly with grandson Jackson, 11 today. It seems we are going to miss celebratory dinner with the extended family tonight; a shame because Larissa is a mean cook.