The Phoenix Tour

I am going to combine yesterday and today’s happenings in one post.

Yesterday would have to be my least favourite day on the road so far. It started out quite nice, overcast but dry and not too cold.

Had a really pleasant ride to St Columba Falls. One of the tallest falls in Tasmania at 90 metres tall, you could hear them long before they came into view. A 15 minute walk through the most magical fern gully imaginable. The greenest of green, moss and lichen covered rocks and logs with and towering tree ferns. I have never seen such enormous tree ferns. Taller, even, than some of the sassafras and myrtle trees that they shared space with.

The falls themselves were impressive. Water cascaded and tumbled over shelves of rock at different levels into the crystal clear river below. The sound of the water, constantly crashing and falling was mesmerising. It was powerful and beautiful and this wasn’t even the falls at their best. I can only imagine what it would be like after rain.

Spent a fair bit of time just watching and listening, until some noisy folk came crashing in and ruining the moment. Time to move on.

I stopped into The Pub in the Paddock. Home to Priscilla, the beer drinking pig…

This was, as advertised, a Pub in a paddock, surrounded by the vast dairy farming pastures of Pyengana.

First licenced in 1880, it is one of Tasmania’s oldest pubs. It has been lovingly cared for and maintains all of its historical charm. Lovely old wooden walls and ceilings and original fireplaces, It still had that dark, cosy atmosphere that the older pubs all seem to have.

I paid a visit to Priscilla. Didn’t give her a beer but did give her a good scratch.

Then had a delicious lunch, sitting outside, watching the clouds roll in.

That’s where the day took a turn for the worse and where it earned the title of my least favourite day’s riding.

I jumped on the bike in light rain. No problem.

Then, as I progressed towards Scottsdale, it became decidedly heavier. Pulled over in Scottsdale and put on my wet weather pants but decided the hassle of zipping in the rain liner in my jacket wasn’t warranted. A mistake I would come to regret…

Rain continued to get more serious. Just out of Scottsdale is a steep and winding section of road that I assume goes over a pass in the mountains. This was probably the worst road as far as surface conditions go so far, rough, potholed and a lot of gravel washed over, especially in the corners. So, add that to some fairly serious rain and it made for an unpleasant ride.

And then, there are the motorhome drivers and caravan towers, reminding me of a procession of steel snails, taking their houses along with them. They seem to believe that the road markings don’t apply to them, they have some Grey Nomad special rules that allow them to come right over into the other lanes around the tight corners. I pay a lot of attention to riding my corners, trying to ensure I am in the best possible position, especially on the tight corners. It is, quite literally, a matter of life and possible death for motorcyclists. We can’t hug the outside of the lane as it is usually covered in gravel and broken away. We don’t want to hug the inside line either as we need to have the best possible vision of the corner and can’t risk getting side-swiped. So, we aim to be in the middle of the lane as much as possible. When you have a 25ft motorhome or a big ol 4WD and 25ft caravan coming around a corner, in the centre of your lane, it doesn’t leave a lot of options. It is pretty scary and ended up becoming infuriating after a while. Their size is no excuse, either. There are a lot of massive logging trucks moving around Tasmania. Interestingly, these massive vehicles (often B-Doubles) seem to manage to stay within their lanes. 

Then, just because I wasn’t having enough of a rough time, I came across some road works. Right as the pass was getting really steep.

First, we had to wait at a red light while some heavy machinery was doing its thing. I could feel freezing cold rain sliding into my jacket near my neck and running down my back as I sat there, saying some words.

Then the light went green. This light was literally about 15 metres from a hairpin bend. And, to add salt to an already salty wound, they had removed the entire surface of the road for about 4 kms. So, imagine, riding around a hairpin bend, in rutted, wet mud and gravel. And then, another 4 kilometres of slippery, corrugated, gravelly muck. I am not sure what I yelled (inside my helmet, of course) at the guy in the water truck (!) who was gleefully spraying the already sodden road as I went past. I especially enjoyed that extra hosing down from his truck, it really added to my comfort levels.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only 20 minutes, I found solid road again. By this time, however, the road was well and truly wet and slippery, still with gravel everywhere. I was getting colder by the second but by this stage, it was way too late to put the liner in my jacket anyway.

I just wanted to be done.

After twisting through the steep streets of Launceston, I finally got to my accommodation for the next 2 nights.

What a bizarre place.

Grindlewald, a ‘town’ just outside of Launceston created by Roelf Vos, a Dutch immigrant,  supermarket chain owner in 1980.
He moved to Tasmania and set out to recreate his favourite swiss town, Grindelwald.
The town was designed with all of the houses being ‘Swiss style’, all on large lots with beautiful gardens full of glorious pine trees and other European species. There are still covenants on the area, so any new builds have to have tiled roofs and other features, in keeping with the ‘Swiss’ theme.

The resort, where I am staying was developed a few years later, has a little Swiss village, with a bakery, ice creamery, lolly shop, restaurant and gift shop.

It looks like all of those ‘theme type’ places that were so popular back in the 80s.
There’s a putt putt golf course, paddle boats, a pirate ship, tennis courts, an indoor pool and spa and every kind of kitsch detail you can imagine.
It all looks a bit tired these days. I can imagine what a hit it would have been back in the 80s but now, the peeling paint, overgrown gardens and dated décor make it seem a bit sad…

Comfy bed though, and all part of the experience.

For the last 20 or so kilometres,  my bike didn’t feel right. Clunking on the downshifts. As I pulled into reception to check in, it was rattling. Loudly.

Awesome. I could tell it wasn’t engine related but it didn’t sound good.
Parked at my room and had a look. My chain was not where it was supposed to be. It was having a little rest on my centre stand.
Impeccable timing. The weather forecast for Tuesday was looking pretty dire. And I am getting on a boat to the mainland on Wednesday.
Feeling pretty doubtful of my chances, 5pm on Monday afternoon,  I got on the phone to Launceston BMW.
They kindly made space for me the next morning.
I lay in bed, listening to the rain absolutely belting down all night, knowing that, no matter what the weather did tomorrow,  I was riding the half hour into Launceston.

I woke up this morning to silence! I couldn’t actually believe my ears as the forecast was for heavy rain and possible thunderstorms all day.
My ears weren’t lying and the sun was positively beaming in a bright blue sky.

Lucky, lucky me.

Rode into Launceston and waited while they looked at my bike. Yes, the chain needed a hefty adjustment. They did the adjustment and then informed me that it was under warranty!

Lucky, lucky me.

Got home and thought it probably be would a day of reading for me.
The clouds were building again and the forecast remained the same. So, I settled down to begin a reading day.
Didn’t last long. The clouds decided to clear after all.
I decided it was my second last day so I was going to try and see something else.

Off to Beauty Point. A pretty town with the water full of elegant yachts.

Then headed to Beaconsfield, the gold mining town that became well known in Australia and around the world after a rockfall in the mine trapped 3 miners on the 25th April 2006. The nation watched and waited as they drilled rescue shafts, attempting to make contact with the 3 miners. Sadly, they discovered the body of one of the 3 missing miners while drilling one of these shafts. On the 30th April they finally made contact with the remaining 2 miners. Then after days of careful digging, they were able to bring them to the surface on the 9th of May. They had been buried for 14 days.
I actually still remember following that story and the feeling of excitement when they lifted those men to safety.

There was a heritage centre which I didn’t visit as it was about to close. But I did get to look at the old mining buildings still standing;

Back to the hotel and spending some time trying to figure out how to pack as much into my last day tomorrow as possible.

The end is near and I am not sure I am happy about that.