Land Ho!

During the night we approached Tasmania and at 7:45 this morning docked at Burnie, our first destination. To ensure the enjoyment of my “holiday” I have been booked on a number of shore excursions such that I might experience this strange land and its inhabitants and today is no exception. Yay.

My alarm went off at 6:45, which I expected would give me enough time to have a quick shower before my breakfast arrived (free room service) some time after 7. The knock on my door that accompanied my alarm was not planned for. The steward with my breakfast was clearly uncomfortable with my appearance as he brought in my breakfast, but then I wasn’t going to put on pants just for him while I still wasn’t awake. A shower, a croissant, and a cup of tea later I felt prepared to face my benefactors before the days events began.

We gathered in one of the theatres at 8:15 where we were judged, sorted, and labled for transport. Once there was a full load of cattle ready, we were ushered towards one of the ships exits where we were searched for fresh produce. My mother in her infinite wisdom had decided we were all taking a banana and an apple to sustain us, she was unimpressed with her plans being thwarted by this quarantine procedure. No matter, onto the bus, we’re going somewhere.

This day trip is meant to explore some of the local towns, Burnie, Devenport and Penguin. With bus driver and tour guide prepared we set out. Over the next hour and a half we had pointed out to us poppy fields, livestock, poppy fields, houses, poppy fields, trees, poppy fields, berry farm, poppy fields, a sign, and some poppy fields. I made a note to track down the local opium den.

When we finally reached the town of Burnie, if you could call it a town. We passed the surf club and beach, at which we didn’t stop. We were headed to the aboriginal art center which turned out to be closed. We drove to the point and saw the lighthouse, but were not allowed off the bus. We finally drove into the center of the town and were dropped off at the visitors center, we had 30 minutes to kill.

The town was a ghost town, apparently nothing opens on a Sunday except Target so I suppose we would still have some opportunity to sample some local imported sweat shop products. Every cafe was closed, all of them, these people have never heard of an all day breakfast even on a Sunday. All except Macdonalds, which I would not call a cafe, but was quickly corrected on that fact by my mother. We came to Tasmania and went to Macdonalds.

The Macdonalds imitation coffee out of the way, we piled back onto the bus to find 3 people missing. I don’t know where the hell they were but my dreams of abduction were shattered when they showed up 10 minutes late. The tour was now running late and we would have to cut short one of our other destinations. This great loss heavy on our minds we departed.

Look at the size of that bull, see that weird house, that forest over there is green, that factory does stuff. Apparently they are short on landmarks in a place that largely appears to be untamed country with a highway through the middle of it, the wildlife park and bushwalks and winerys and berry farms must all be spectacularly uninteresting. The trip through Devenport was highlighted by a house that had toilet artwork in their front yard and another that had a replica of a local bridge called the batman bridge, it did not live up to its name nor the title “replica”. After ascending a windy road the bus suddenly pulls over, we have reached a set of water falls but we only have 5 minutes to stop and descend to admire them. I gave it a miss with the number of stairs apparent and seeing the photos I don’t regret missing the dribble that counts as a waterfall round these parts.

Once again the bus departed and we were treated to the sight of lookouts and caves and farmsteads which you can see from the road, but the bus would not stop at. We rolled into Penguin around 12:30 to cruise down the main, and it would seem only, strip. There’s a church there that seats 400, the railway museum that was closed, the bakehouse, a cafe, and a video store. We were given an hour in this roadside attraction to explore and visit the closed stores.

Now in a place called Penguin, one might expect there to be flightless birds of some variety. One would be disappointed. Apparently they don’t come in until 6pm which is long after we would be gone, perfect for the tourists on the bus. I was crestfallen to realise that I wouldn’t see any of the most formal of birds until we spotted this gentleman.

And then these ones

And then the star attraction

Apparently this “Big Penguin” is the main tourist attraction of the town. At least I saw a “penguin”.

The tour guide had informed us there was a Sunday market on in town, so with little else to do we headed out to find this marvel. When we had first rolled into town the bus driver had been rather upset to find his usual parking spot had been filled by another bus, I’m certain he will track the driver of the offending vehicle down at the local drinking establishment and have a quiet conversation with him over a cup of tea. So after circling the town he finally parked behind the closed railway museum. This is all well and good until you realise that this is at the exact opposite end of the town from the only other point of interest, the markets. Admittedly, given the meager size of the town, it was barely a hop, skip, and a jump from one end of town to the other.

The markets were a marvel to behold, it was as if a St Vinnies store and a dirty garage had met in a dive bar and had a night of wild sex in a back alley and we were now exploring the wet patch. There were things we saw that you would never have realised you didn’t want until you saw them in person. A stall where the key item on display was a collectors twilight watch. Waffles on a stick. I was surprised to find almost no VHS tapes for sale but mostly dvds. Also disappointing was the complete lack of any sort of crafted goods or interesting creations for sale, almost everything was 2nd hand trash. One stall was as if an old man had upended his toolbox on the ground and expected people to pick through it to find what they desired.

I thought all was for naught on this trip until I spotted these little darlings.

This one desires your soul.

Satisfied with my discovery, and running out of time, I headed back to the bus for the trip back to the ship. More highways, more notable houses, more poppy fields. There is a cheese maker mentioned who does tastings that we aren’t visiting. Up that road is a whisky distillery that makes the 5th best whisky in the world, and it’s open to the public, not that we get to see it. We arrived at the ship, passed through security, boarded, and returned from our sterile tourist experience to our sterile cabins and food to recover from the days excitement and prepare for what was still to come.