5 November 2013 - Leisure Ville Holiday Centre, Wynyard, Tasmania

Along the Enchanted Walk

After so much indecision about today, we compromised by leaving, yet still walking in the National Park. After waking at some ungodly hour, discovering the sun rising in a clear sky, the ground outside to be snow-free, we packed up and pulled out of the tight little site with some difficulty. We drove out of the caravan park and parked up in the large parking area behind the National Park Visitor Centre, then caught the shuttle bus up to the Interpretative Centre. I have often confessed to being wrong with first impressions, and today was such a day; our driver was Bob, the same who had turned up late yesterday without a word of apology. He is actually a very nice guy who did a “tree-change” as they say, about seven years ago, leaving the lovely New South Wales coast and settling in the bush here in Tasmania and was very chatty with us, particularly so on our return journey when we were the only passengers.
  

From the Ranger’s Station we walked the Enchanted Walk, up through the forest along a creek behind the Lodge accommodation for the more discerning, and then on up around the King Billy Pines Walk, the whole walk taking an hour. Back at the Station, Chris asked if I was satisfied with this effort for the day and I had to admit that yesterday’s marathon had pushed my boundaries. Despite my youth, I am now limited, which annoys me intensely. Chris is very sensible about my limitations and for this I should be more thankful.

Waterfall on the Enchanted Walk

We headed away from the Cradle Mountain National Park before 11 am, back out to the Cradle Mountain Development Road and west back to the Murchison Highway, then turning north toward Bass Strait. We were just out of the National Park when Chris noticed that the speedometer was not functioning. This had happened during our first year of travel and was easily remedied  by a fuse change. While Chris was hoping to fix this himself, there were few dry spaces to pull off the highway and it was not until we had turned onto the A10, the bolder line on the map one might reasonably assume to be the more major northerly route, and reached our lunchtime stop at the Hellyer Gorge State Reserve, that he was able to apply himself to the job at hand. Alas it was not to be and we are still left with the small problem yet to be attended to; hopefully tomorrow a local auto electrician will quickly sort matters out.

King Bill Pine

After turning on to the A10 we travelled across relatively flat land planted out in various stages of plantation pines and eucalypt. Much had been recently milled; this offered a vista of industry rather than the wilderness we had expected. However when we reached the Gorge, we descended for about five kilometres steeply into beautiful rain forest and after about an hour and a half, of attempted repairs and lunch, we wound our way up a further five kilometres or so to yet more planation in various stages of forestry process.

Thirty kilometres from the coast, we emerged from this industry, and passed over gentle rolling hills and through lush green pastures grazing dairy cattle, and fed by long wand arms of irrigation systems. After  a further ten kilometres, as we passed through now invisible old settlements of Henrietta and Yolla, the land tipped toward the Bass Straight and we gently descended toward the shores of the Bass Strait.

Wynyard, a rural service town with a population of about 5,000, sits on the banks of the Inglis River, strung along the sea shore directly to the east of the rather imposing Table Cape. The tourism industry here is promoted by a small group of delightful elderly folk who sit dozing or knitting in the Wonders of Wynyard, which doubles as the Information Centre and the Veteran Ford Display museum. Alas they were unable to solve the puzzle with tariffs for the two caravan parks in town, one offering a range online and the other with not even an email address. Armed with pretty pamphlets, we telephoned each park at over a dollar a call which defeats the exercise in choosing between one that charges two or three dollars than the other. We found that they both charge the same, but it was this which belongs to the Family Park franchise offering us a 10% loyalty discount, to which we came, with absolutely no regret. There are large grassed sites, wonderful individual toilet facilities and if we were not so lazy, within strolling distance of the beach.

On the subject of Loyalty Cards for Caravan Park chains, for the benefit of those tossing up whether to fork out for the initial cost: for us who have been travelling over two years, signing up with Family Parks, Discovery Parks and Big4, we have recouped the cost many times over and never regretted the decision.

Since arriving here in the park mid-afternoon, we have dealt with several business matters by email, washed and dried a bag of potatoes, washed our hair, cleaned the carpets throughout and enjoyed an excellent catch-up with Kit on Skype; all in all, an excellent afternoon so far.

On one side of us we have a massive caravan and truck rig who are heading up to Cradle Mountain tomorrow; I hope they have a better site booked than we had. On the other side, a couple of very butch tattooed dykes have set up their tent, the only softening element to their unattractive demeanour and appearance, the emergence of their cat who is travelling with them. We did wonder if we were being judgemental in labelling them so, relying on first impressions only, however our guess was soon confirmed when they engaged in a passionate embrace, with locked lips, within view of all. And in case you say that I am just being homophobic; you are probably right in part, but my husband and I do not make an exhibition of our heterosexual relationship in public. Why should they, who choose to pursue their bent pursuits? I say, keep it in the tent!