I should probably explain what happened after Sunday, but by comparison to Sunday’s excellent day, I didn’t actually achieve much on Monday.
Waking ridiculously early (for a holiday), I awoke to find it sort of snowing. I believe the term is sleeting, but it is just cold and wet to me. I slowly ate my cocopops waiting for the rain and sleet to stop. At 10 am, I checked out and started to drive towards the Cradle Mountain national park ‘ my intention was to check out the mountain and take some photos. However, the sleet had turned into alternatively heavy and light rain. I hate being wet, even if I have warm dry clothes in the car. So at the general store, right before the entrance to the park, I regretfully turned around.
I had to drive from Cradle Mountain to Launceston, using my preferred C road strategy. Which is not a problem when the road leading from the national park was a ‘C’ road for at least 25 km in the wrong direction and around 50 km in the right direction.
I drove towards Moiha, sort of aiming at Sheffield. After about 30 minutes, the sun came out and I kicked myself. I didn’t really have enough fuel (to be safe) to go back, even if I had the time.
According to the map, Sheffield has robot tigers, and who doesn’t want to see robot tigers? Taking the slightly longer route allowed me to dawdle nicely. I took some time out to check out Mt Claude, and got a great shot of the car against a quarry wall, and some more pylons for Paul, including one very untraditional style of pylon, which I am sure he will burst with excitement over.
Anyway, once I struck Sheffield, it turned out to be a bit of a washout. Most of the tourist traps were shut, and after a few too many ‘Closed’ signs, I didn’t even bother looking for the robot tigers. I pressed on to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth and I have history. On one of the first trips I took to Tasmania many years ago, Dad, me and my brother had to go from Launceston to Devonport to make a plane as we’d missed the one leaving from Launceston. If you ever wonder why I never miss planes, although I’m perennially fashionably late for everything else, it dates back to the traumas of standby staff travel with my parents in my childhood.
Anyway, instead of getting a bus, or anything really obvious like that, Dad decided that the three of us should hitchhike as we apparently had plenty of time. So anyway, after many hours, we had reached Elizabeth. Elizabeth is only 51 km from Launceston. Tasmanian drivers statistically never pick up hitch hikers. Whilst we waited for the bus we should have caught in the first place, we had some lunch at the Elizabeth pub.
I decided it was time I had lunch there again. Not a thing had changed d’cor wise. The food had changed from Australian pub meals to pies and pasties. The day I was there was the owner’s last day ‘ after some 60 odd years in the family, they had sold up. There’s a bit of history for you.
Work rang up on the mobile ‘ the first mobile coverage I’d had in nearly a day and a half and probably the last people I wanted to talk to. A customer who I am dealing with next week tried bringing forward the appointment’ via phone and on my holidays.
I headed on the A1 to Launceston as I had a date with a hotel room. Driving in a relatively straight line is weird after all the squiggly bits. Driving at the speed limit was a sensation, as well. Bored now.
After checking in, not much happened, so I went and saw Kill Bill as an excuse to turn off my mobile phone. That’s a great film ‘ go see it. Afterwards, I returned to my hotel room with Chinese take away and read the rest of the Salmon of Doubt. Sad ending. Doh.