Despite everything, I decided not to be superstitious, even when I arrived on the island on Friday 13th (November).
It was still early in the morning when the ferry docked in Devonport. I had to wait until the Forestry Office opened, where I wanted to collect the book and key for the Tasmanian Trail. No problem at all, as long as there is a McDonalds where you can go on the Internet again. Who knew when I would have this chance again.
The book and the key were already ready for me there. Travelling the trail was one of the goals for me to be here. Almost all of it on forest tracks and grit roads over the whole island. As a part of the route went over private land, a key for the gates was provided for a deposit.
But before I got right out into the sticks, I wanted first to go West to the Cradle Mountains.
I went higher and higher on small roads. On my map there were a couple of small places marked where I thought I could get something to eat or water at least. That was not the case though. The places consisted of about two houses and no-one was to be seen. Actually I didn’t want to go so far at all, but with to overnight with little water in the wilderness is not ideal either. So I went on as far as the Cradle Mountain Caravan park.
This was astoundingly beautiful, all buildings were in a round shape with natural stones. Instead of a camping place I was offered a cheap resting place in the “Alpine Shed” where I was alone, and really wasn’t expensive and I didn’t have to pitch my tent. That was fine by me.
Before I went further I went a bit higher to Dove Lake.
The way there was the most beautiful of all, once again. Here it stops for bicyclists. It really begins for hikers here. One of the most well-known walking trails in Tasmania the Overland Track, starts here. Of course on this wonderfully beautiful week-end there were hordes of people out.
It was a magnificent cycling day and I just enjoyed it. I had heard plenty of how it goes up and down in Tasmania not that it meant anything to me. I simply enjoyed the wonderful view.
I could take my time, this time I had enough water with me so I could camp anywhere I liked.
The town of Tullah came after 70km that, by way of a change even had shops. It was actually a really nice place, on a lake, only the people that made a special impression you as if there hadn’t been much dilution of the gene pool there. Not too comfortable to camp there.
After Tullah I said goodbye to the Highway and went on using small roads in the direction of Queenstown. That meant the first 11km going steep uphill for which you got a beautiful view of Cradle and Murdison Mountain. Quite spectacular cliff formations.
I knew there was still a lake to come, Lake Plimsol where you will always find a nice place to camp and has water as well.
My tent fitted perfectly there between the trees by the boat ramp, which was great.
The next day was just as wonderful too. First along the lake-side, that was simply fantastic in the early morning light.
Only when I came back on the Highway shortly before Queenstown did it become mountainous. The first view of the town is not very inviting, with a lot of mining but it changed later. In the town centre there are a couple of historic buildings and some supermarkets again at last. It’s supposed to rain 350 days a year here, but I had clear blue sky.
After Queenstown came the 99 Bend Road. I didn’t count them but 99 bends there were not, I didn’t find it so steep either.
It was very early in the afternoon as I arrived at Lake Burbury. As I lay on the boat ramp, I decided I would not go further, it was simply so fantastic, all so quiet, only the sound of running water.
After 2 long days, I had really earned it. Apart from that I had time to look at the Tasmanian Trail book more thoroughly and where I would join it best.
In this wilderness, far from civilisation and light sources, you have a wonderful night sky, each star showing its full worth.
Although I’d become really lazy, lying in later in the morning, it was already light at 5am and I was at Nelsons Falls really early. It was very good as apart from me there was no-one else there and I could go by bicycle on the footpath round the back.
It was really good fun to go on narrow tracks through a thick forest with lots of ferns. The waterfall could be seen as well.
Problems with my gear set began on the next long climb to Mount Arrowsmith. But to begin with I could ignore them. Simply changing gear often so that it didn’t disengage. And to begin with only the first two gears were affected. Although it cost significantly more energy when you slip into neutral, I decided to not let it affect my enjoyment.
On the mountain the landscape changed again, no forest any more but a plateau with spots of limestone.
I wanted to replenish my supplies in the next place, Derwent Bridge. The only thing I saw though was the Wilderness Motel. I asked a road-worker if it was Derwent Bridge and he only laughed and said yes, and I could be glad I was cycling otherwise I would have missed it.
As in the meantime it had begun to rain heavily, I awarded myself a hot chocolate in the Motel. In the end the rain went on too long for me, so I put on my full waterproof clothing, and left in the direction of Lake St Claire. There was 7km left to go.
The lake is south of the Cradle Mountains and the end of the Overland Track. For hikers there is a very nice camping site directly at the lake side, although without any fixtures, only a piece of meadow where you can camp, with two rainbows. Magnificent, I was quite alone there.
The next morning it took forever until I had packed, as I was constantly distracted by the magnificent view over the lake.
I met the Tasmanian Trail at Bronte Park, pretty much in the central highlands of Tasmania, away at last from asphalt road and on the dirt road. Mainly, I noticed on the first ascent that my gear-change wasn’t better. Of course on grit roads it was more uncomfortable when you suddenly lost a gear. After as well I suddenly found myself laying on the road, I decided that perhaps it would be better to push the bicycle from time to time, especially as lorries with tree-trunks were going by. Really annoying.
The Tasmanian Trail goes from Arthurs Lake on along a track of the Tasmanian Hydroelectric Power. Here at last I had my peace, as you don’t get in without a key, and except for the wallabies that visibly enjoy it as well was undisturbed here. I spent an evening at a really nice camp-site at Arthurs Lake with a young and an old Australian couple. A very nice diversion from my nights alone.
I went straight south from Arthurs Lake in order to take the Tasmanian Trail in a southerly direction. Right away in the morning when I got on my bicycle and almost fell right off, I felt that my gear-set was even worse. The Rohloff gear-set has 14 gears, gears 8-14 worked without a hitch, 1-7 could hardly be used any more. No fun for any mountain. I tried as much as possible to make headway.
When I was on the Tasmanian Trail again it didn’t last long until I had to switch to the alternative route. A bridge had fallen down and the way was blocked.
I got over this tree-trunk but it was the end. Definitely best considering my gear-set.
In the meantime every couple of turns I my gears would disengage. It really looked as if I would have to give up. With a functional gear-set it would have been a joy. The alternative route was on grit tracks as well, without traffic and over mountains of course.
Luckily I had read about Tim who lives near to Hobart, builds bicycle frames, and also delivers custom bicycles with the Rohloff gear-set. He knows the gear-set better than most. First I decided in Ouse to take my leave from the Trail and go on the quickest way to Mountain River, around the back of Hobart. That was really clever as when I was in Hobart, I really couldn’t use gears 1-7 any more, only neutral. That wasn’t so bad as Hobart was almost level. The drama began afterwards as it went really steeply uphill. The next 37 km took me 4 hours. But the view was fantastic. Once again I tried to enjoy it all despite everything. I was all in by the time I reached Tim. He lives in a beautiful place in the mountains but you have to clamber up there and on a grit track only.
There in his little shed we took the gear-set apart and tried to repair it with the help of Rohloff Australia, and the web-site of Rohloff Germany. The Corpus Delicti was apparently two small springs that were used on the side. After we had replaced the springs with those from Tim’s old gear-set, it was actually a bit better, but not yet 100%. But good enough that I could do a tour for several days until my replacement springs arrived.
So the next day I got going South again, in the direction of the most southerly point of the Tasmanian mainland.
The first kilometres went downhill only which went fantastically of course, after that a good length more or less flat which went well too. After Port Huon parts needed pushings, whereby I could use constant gear changes to use the lower gears a bit. It was easier to enjoy my surroundings again. Probably the largest salmon farm of Tasmania is in the Huon River.
A cage or whatever you call it, ranked one after another.
The further south I came the higher the mountains were. The last part from Cockle Creek was on forest tracks again, past lonely beaches, fantastic.
The first camping site was already pretty packed, it was the week-end again, and the furthest Cockle Creek was still really quiet. I was immediately asked to share some wine by a couple of women. Very nice. First of all I rode to the whale sculpture,
Whale fishing was very important here, before I pitched my tent next to the women and began the comfortable part of the evening.
As I wasn’t expecting the replacement parts until Monday, it was arranged that I’d be back at Tim’s on Tuesday evening. That didn’t leave much time for all that I wanted to do. So the next day I went on again, respectively back.
Already on the way there I thought that when you do such a trip you have to be able to laugh at yourself. I could go straight back over all the mountains that, with a broken gear-set, were really no fun. I could have chosen the less direct route along the coast, but stayed on the main road this time. It did have fewer mountains but higher ones accordingly.
I didn’t get far. It started to rain terribly. I put all my waterproof clothing on again as it can get really cold. Eventually though I had had enough and settled on a nice place to camp on Huon River. It didn’t stop raining the whole night which made me consider the next morning if I should go straight back to Tim. But Bruny Island really tempted me and so I went on as soon as the weather got a bit better. It wasn’t such a stupid idea as later it was really nice again.
It took a bit of time again until I was over the hill, pushing the bicycle most of the way to the ferry and reached the island at last. I was lucky that I didn’t have to cycle far, only over the “Neck”,
where there is a nice camping place at the lower end. In the middle of it there is an observation platform where you can see penguins after sunset, and see the whole island during the day. I didn’t need more than that. I sat on the beach for a while, unfortunately too cold for swimming and admired the distant cliffs.
The next day it was back to Mountain River, where you can see that other bicycle lovers live as well.
The replacement springs were there already and installed straight away. Unfortunately without success. The next morning we heard from Rohloff Australia that cleaning oil might help.
It was astonishingly. You can get the gear-set from several bicycle shops in the area around Hobart but no service of it as nobody had seen a broken gear-set before. It was not even easy to get an oil change kit. From my researches, I found a shop that had the oil. Rohloff identified a shop in a neighbouring location that had recently been sent a kit. I went straight there in the afternoon and soon after the cleaning oil was in the hub. It looked like being successful because of it at last. Hardly any gear disengagement any more, I was the happiest of persons, at last able to go up mountains and not have to push. I was told that I should go with the cleaning oil for a little while which I did until the next morning when I I really wanted to go and filled up with the right oil.
In addition we learnt from Rohloff that the springs should be put in when the gear is between 1-7, and so we did that too. The effect was fatal as the empty running came back again. To being with I thought it was not so bad and the first kilometres were downhill so it was no problem. Only after 6km did I notice the complete magnitude of it. Tim had left that morning for a couple of days so could not help me anymore.
I decided to go again to the shop where I got the oil. Unfortunately they didn’t have any more oil-changing kits, which meant there was no cleaning-oil any more on the whole island, apart from the oil that I had taken out of my hub that morning. That was still with Tim in the shed, 25km and several meters of altitude away. The last thing I wanted to do was to go back. A worker from the bicycle shop took me back quickly, which was really nice of him. But unfortunately the cleaning oil haven’t had the same effect as a couple of days before. There was nothing for it but to go on. If I constantly changed gear I could avoid the empty running.
I went over the Tasman Bridge in a strong wind. Probably so that no bicyclist would complain, there were signs everywhere stating that they were working on an improvement of the cycle track. It was really urgent as it is much too narrow, especially when you want to cross fully packed. It was especially uncomfortable for me as it is higher than the road for the cars and I had the feeling that the balustrade was far too low.
I then came to Seven Mile Beach where I settled in the park. It wasn’t a long way to go but I despite that I was all in.
Despite all the problems I was relatively optimistic the next day heading East. As long as it was flat, it was really nice; it just isn’t like that on Tasmania for long. After Sorell as it went uphill and with more traffic, I halted and tried to think through the whole situation. It was clear to me that sooner or later I would have to send the gear-set to Rohloff in Queensland. Against that I had hoped I would make it through Tasmania and could have a week-long break in Melbourne. On the other hand, it was really no fun anymore, and the condition of my gear-set could save me from going over all the mountains that I still wanted to do.
So, why not then send the rear-wheel to Queensland right away, if it lasted a week until I got it back, I’d still have enough time for the East coast and could really enjoy it.
So I called Dorothy, a cyclist from Hobart who had invited me to stay, but unfortunately was in Melbourne the last few days. It was absolutely no problem for her, of course I could come, and she would come back from Melbourne in the evening. That was another advantage of my coming back to Hobart as otherwise I would never have met Dorothy and Greg. In addition, bad weather was forecast and on Tasmania that means really bad.
So nothing more for it than back, over my beloved Tasman Bridge again, this time in a rain storm.
I found Dorothy and Greg’s house quickly, not far from the town centre but nobody was home. I unpacked my entire luggage in the garden, took my rear wheel off, cleaned and dried it a bit and took it to the Post Office right away. It was Friday and I thought the quicker I sent it the quicker I would get it back.
The postal service in Australia is simply great. You get everything there that you need for whatever you want to send. I went to the Post Office with just my rear wheel and the intention to send it to Queensland as fast as possible. I was immediately helped with bubble-wrap, plastic bags and sticky tape until it was ready to send. Using Express it should be in Queensland in 2 days, i.e. on Monday.
I wandered around Hobart until Dorothy and Greg came back. I went in a museum that was much more interesting than expected. You can really spend a few days here.
The next day it bucketed down. I was happy to sit here in the dry. Greg and Dorothy’s brother went for a walk; Dorothy had decided to stay here. Despite the weather I wanted to go to the Salamanca market which only takes place on Saturdays. There wasn’t much going on but there were hardly any tourists about. As we were thoroughly soaked through, I invited Dorothy to a coffee and let her know that today was my birthday. She insisted, as soon as we were back, to bake a birthday cake for me,
Fruit cake, which I think is typically Australian. In the evening, when Greg and Robert were back again, there was sparkling and still wine. It was very nice to spend my birthday in such pleasant company.
On the next day as well the rain showed no signs of stopping. It’s incredible how much water can be found in the sky. Up until now I hadn’t missed my bicycle in the slightest. We spent almost the whole day in the kitchen talking. Travelling cyclists always have much to tell. In addition I had decided to freshen up my Spanish before I went to South America. I benefited a lot from Greg who is a language wizard and as well as other languages speaks South American Spanish really well. In return I went through a couple of exercises in his German book with him. In this way there was always something to do.
We only went out for a short while, late in the afternoon when the rain had eased up for a bit.
In the evening we were invited to a BBQ by a woman with Germany roots. There were really interesting people there including a woman from Colombia. Of course I quizzed her about her country.
As it had stopped raining the next day I could at last set up a bike from Dorothy so that I could go away for a few days. As a test I actually wanted to go up Mr Wellington. In Greg’s kindly opinion it was probably not a good idea as it was 0 degrees at the top at the time. And truly I saw from a glance upwards that nothing of the peak could be seen, so from there you would probably see just as little. Nota bene It is summer here but the temperature in Tasmania can sink very rapidly. So I preferred to ride in the town.
A visit to the cinema was planned for the evening; Hobart is really an easy place to hang around in, especially when you are in such good company.
Nevertheless, I was off the next day – I wanted to see Mt Field National Park. The borrowed bike was packed and I asked myself how long it would take the weight. It wasn’t bad at all, just by far not as stable as my own, but of course by far much better than nothing. I went in a westerly direction out of the town, 2 weeks ago I arrived in Hobart from the other direction, I’d had the gear-set problem for that long and been around in the south of the island.
This time I was on a cycle track out of the town which was much nicer of course and I decided to ride it to the end, somehow it would go in the right direction. It went on along small traffic-free roads.
It was astonishingly flat – I had reckoned with many more mountains. It was early in the afternoon when I got to the National Park and I pitched my tent quickly and walked to the Russel Waterfall.
This forest is simply magical, lots of moss and ferns, for the part of the way you go under a real canopy of fern stems.
After all the rain, a lot of water was coming over the waterfall. Back at the camp-site I snatched my bicycle (without luggage) and went up to the car-park of the Horseshoe Waterfall. As it was just after 5 and nobody was about any more, I went ahead and rode on the footpath. Again, it was simply magical.
Also this less well-known waterfall could be seen through
Back on the forest track downhill I noticed that perhaps I shouldn’t go on the wood/forest/meadow tracks too much. Above all I missed my extraordinarily reliable Magura hydraulic disk brakes.
Despite this and although I liked Hobart an awful lot, I enjoyed it immensely to be out in nature again.
I had considered that if I crossed Port Arthur off on this tour then I’d have time for the East coast when my rear wheel returned again. So the next day I set off on again, first in the North-West direction on a part of the Tasmanian Trail that I wanted to ride and then on wood tracks mainly in a great arc past Hobart in an easterly direction. After Sorell, where a couple of days ago I’d decided to turn back, I raced to the coast and went along the bay with a wonderful view to Dodges Ferry, where at last, near to the wonderful beaches,
I found a spot where I could pitch my tent.
It went further on to the bay and alongside a river in the south-east direction of Port Arthur.
Apparently there still were a couple of Tasmanian devils here,
that are in danger of becoming extinct. You were made aware more and more often of the many “Road Kills” (animals that were run over by cars). In the past the corpses with skin and bones were eaten by the Tasmanian Devils. But as due to a form of cancer there aren’t so many of them any more, the dead animals just stay on the side of the road. In my view though there aren’t more “Road Kills” in Tasmania than on the other Australian roads.
Already from far away you can see the coastal cliffs of the Tasman peninsula.
Boat trips there were offered in Port Arthur. I could save the 100 dollars for that though. Nor did I want to invest 28 dollars to go behind the “old” walls.
What I saw from outside was enough. When you go by bike you see a lot like this for free. By European standards it was not so old. Anyway what’s interesting about Port Arthur is the history, with the penal colony that you can read about as well.
The ride there that again was the most beautiful and interesting of all had made it worth it in any case.
On Wednesday I got news from Rohloff Australia that my rear wheel had been repaired and was on its way back. By my calculations it should be in Hobart on Friday. Time for me to turn back again.
So by lunchtime on Friday I was at Dorothy and Greg’s again, had taken all my bits from the borrowed bike and screwed them back on my bike. There was nothing more to do than wait for the post.
In the afternoon I discovered through an e-mail that I had a bill. The postal charge seemed very low to me. I immediately called Rohloff and asked if the wheel hadn’t been sent by express. That wasn’t the case. That was too much for me, I really couldn’t understand it. It meant I had to wait until Monday. In the Post Office I was told it could last a week. As the low season was coming to an end I had booked a ferry back to Melbourne for 12th December. In the worst case I wouldn’t have any time left for the East coast. I was annoyed.
Dorothy went with her family on holiday the next day, making it clear that I could stay with her until my wheel came back. What would I have done without her!
On Saturday and Sunday I wasn’t tied down as no post is delivered then. Early in the morning I went on a long walk in the woods alongside a river to the foot of Mt Wellington. Later I could go to the Salamanca Market, this time with nice weather and more tourists, in the evening to a concert, on Sunday I went up Mt Wellington again.
It was really worth it as the view is simply enormous. Even the Tasman Bridge looked totally harmless from this perspective.
On Monday there was nothing for me to do but to stay at home and wait until my wheel came (hopefully). Late in the afternoon, when it became clear that my waiting was in vain, I called Rohloff and got the registration number of my parcel. The next day a call to the Post Office brought the happy news that it would be delivered the current day. So more waiting but this time with the assurance that there would be a happy end. At last I was in the mood again to write e-mails.
After I had packed everything and all was in order my wheel arrived shortly before 2 p.m. It was arranged with Robert, Dorothy’s brother that as soon as the wheel was there he would drive me a bit of theway. So nothing for it but to fit the wheel, load everything in the car and away. I didn’t want to test it any more as I had no choice, it had to work.
Because I had ridden the most part of it on bicycle already I could accept being driven, above all to have the chance to see some of the East coast. I could spend the first night in Freycenet National Park straight away. I was happy to be on my bicycle again. I didn’t stay there long as in the morning I went right away further North to the Bay of Fire.
On the way I met Susan and Martin, a Dutch couple who had rented bicycles in Tasmania and were riding comfortably along. It was really good to ride a couple of kilometres and have a nice conversation. On the way we came across beautiful beaches that almost looked like those that I’d missed in the National park.
As I wanted to go directly from the Bay of Fire to the Ben Lomond National Park, a very nice lady in the Tourist Info in St Helens showed me as detailed map. The contour lines were so thick that they almost made me dizzy. She calmed me down and said the path would go between the contours. I would have to find that out. She wrote all the names of the roads out for me. I was very doubtful if I would find road signs on the forest tracks but was nevertheless very grateful because I knew that somehow I would find it nevertheless.
But first it went further on to the Bay of fire with the characteristic red cliffs and the deep turquoise water.
As I had another hard day before me, I got away early. I always wake up early so it wasn’t even worse.
Back in St Helens I found the way to the town straight away and was astonished that there really were signs for the first few paths. Even the critical junction in the middle of the wood could not be missed. Sometimes it is really difficult when there are many forest tracks as then there are hundreds of alternative ways and in the complete chaos you don’t know where to go any more. But it was very calm here. On the first stretch of about 50km I only saw 2 cars.
The climbs were limited as well, I only had to push for short parts, as my rear wheel was slipping on the gravel. But my gear changes worked as well as ever again and enjoyed the advantage of the Rohloff gear-set that I had really missed.
Somewhere along the way it got wider and with a fine view went down on a real road.
I was quite astonished to find in a tiny place Methinna, that there was a shop in with my iced coffee. The weather was not so good any more, there was a strong wind and a light rain. A long break was not called for, as I knew there was a nice bit in front of me towards Ben Lomond it would get very steep up the mountain.
What I hadn’t bargained for is that there would be little forest tracks before that which went over 1000m. That was really uncomfortable; above all because it was raining again as it went steeply down.
It was very late when I came to the turn-off for Ben Lomond. It was time for my iron rations, my last chocolate bar. A car stopped and asked where I wanted to spend the night. I had in mind at the top in the camp site. He told me to have fun and said he thought it was still a long way and steep up the mountain, which I knew already, and that there had been frost a couple days ago. I hadn’t thought of that.
I had anyway considered beforehand to camp in the bush and go up the next day without luggage.
After a couple of kilometres I saw a suitable spot in the forest and without further ado decided to spend the night there.
It was nice and quiet and as the way by only went up to the National Park no more than 2 cars went by. In addition as the rain had thankfully stopped for a short while I could pitch my tent.
The next day I hid my bags in the bushes, made a mark on the road so that I would find it again later and set about the mountain peak. Without the load it really was a lot easier and I was really pleased as I noticed how cold it was up there. The peak was still wreathed in clouds,
and was just so beautiful that I went on and on although knowing that I had a long way to go to get my ferry the next day. When I stood on Jacob’s Ladder and saw the viewing platform flashing in the sun, there was no turning back, I just had to go up.
When I saw the snow-covered sign I was really happy again that I had spent the night in the warmth at the foot of the mountain.
That was one of the best of all that I had seen in Tasmania and I was well happy that it had worked out, despite the long stay in Hobart
For me it meant then to go back quickly and take a direct route to Devonport where my ferry to Melbourne departed. I had to have an overnight stop at Tarra River. There’s a free camp-site there. Although the Tourist Office had told me you could only spend the night there if you had your own toilet. That’s really not friendly to cyclists – I’ve never seen a bicycle with a toilet. Despite this, I decided to go there.
When I arrived there was already a Dutch cycling couple with a tent and no loo. Later there were four tents. The joke was that there were public toilets right alongside. It was no problem to overnight there.
I made it to the ferry even with a strong head-wind over the last 75km.
Despite the gear-set problem I did have a fantastic time on Tasmania, leaving exactly after one month back to Melbourne where I arrived on the 13th again, on a Saturday this time.
