NOT A 'BRIDGE TOO FAR' - RICHMOND - PART 1 (TRANSIT AND OUR NEW CAMP) (7 JANUARY 2018)

Tasmania vaunts three colonial bridges of significance, for both their striking appearance and functionality. We had already seen the Red Bridge at Campbell Town, the stone edifice in nearby Ross (still to come) and were about to take in the third, and probably most notable of them all (well most photographed at least), the Richmond Bridge. Apart from the obvious design charm of all three, they are still 'working bridges' carrying traffic of a type which was not even a figment of engineering imagination at the time they were built.

But, as usual, our sightseeing in what is a town with considerably much more to offer than just its river crossing, meant that firstly we had to get there. From Dunalley this was not a big challenge, a mere 47 kilometres through some delightfully picturesque country.

After bidding a fond farewell to our fine friends and erstwhile hosts Vicki and Andy, and giving their two impish travelling companions one last pat, we were off,

back north along the A9 through the gentle sheep grazing slopes around Forcett and Copping 

before we again found ourselves on the approaches of Sorell

where to our surprise, given this was a Sunday morning, we had a short joust with unexpected early morning traffic. I should have know better. These vehicles were all heading south, and I would have bet 'London to a brick' that 90% were making their way to Port Arthur.

With a green light giving us the go ahead, we were soon clear of this busy and expanding town and for the briefest of distances (less than five kms) joined the A3 where the town names were all familiar to us after our quick gallop up the east coast just before Xmas.

Today a different route beckoned

and in no time flat we were meandering along the much narrower A351 where, for most of the distance through to Richmond, we had the road almost entirely to ourselves.

There is no doubt that many of the rural property owners in Tassie do themselves proud when it comes to their living quarters. So many are gracious farm buildings of age and charm, and then there are those of a much more modern ilk, such as this beautiful country home we passed, perched high on a hill.

We had no sooner cleared the open farming fields than the vista of vines on the slopes became the rural norm. 

The Coal River Valley is one of the island's well known wine regions which we had visited before when we graced the cellar doors of the Frogmore Creek and Puddleduck wineries way back in October.

Grapes and gallopers.....vineyards and horse yards, such a common sight through this part of the world. 

On a trip this short our descent into the valley in which Richmond nestled was upon us so quickly it almost seemed as though we were 'arriving before we left'.

With another bend negotiated we had our first glimpse of one of the several old church buildings we were to see shortly much more closely.

Off to our right one of the many dams which are common in this area glistened bright blue amid the ploughed paddocks of a local farm.

But we were not here on a rural mission. After our post Xmas history respite in Hobart we were again ready to soak up the past. Richmond has this in spades.

First things first. This leafy approach into the town from the east was a taste of things to come  (Richmond is charming)

and after crossing the famous bridge (many photos to come!) and scampering quickly through the town's main street where thankfully the tourist traffic had not yet begun in earnest for today, 

we soon found ourselves a kilometre or so on the other side of the town and heaving to at the office of our new base for the next two days, the Richmond Cabin and Tourist Park.

As we pulled in we realised it had been some time since we had taken up residence in a proper caravan park. With our Xmas sojourn at Rosevears and subsequent stint in Hobart and two free camp stays it had been well over three weeks since we had found ourselves fronting up to a park office and learning the local ropes. Problem?  Nope... it's like learning to ride a bike, once up always away!

With our dues duly delivered to our very pleasant new hostess (and at our request), we were directed to a site at the far side of the quiet extensive grounds. This took us a short distance along the entrance road to a corner where the park ablution block had pride of place.








A quick left hand turn down past the tennis courts and the large building beyond which was home to the indoor park pool and recreation room,  











and then a veer to the right took us off towards the large BBQ building in the distance.

We had chosen a quiet corner, well away from the more congested areas of the  park, where although the grass was a little sparse and clumpy due to the continuing unusually dry summer, we had plenty of shade and no immediate neighbours on one side at least.



And being right on the rear fence, there was little to disturb our peace and quiet from that direction other than the occasional farm vehicle.





Liz and Max took full advantage of the peace and quiet whilst I set off to explore and snap our new home (Max is a little hard to see.....he is tucked up on his cushion on the chair).





Immediately in front of our site this oddly isolated cement strip aroused some initial curiosity, until I stepped it out. Yep, about 20 paces, give or take. Combined with the fact that this was in the approximate centre of what could well have passed for a small oval,  we decided that at some stage in the past the area in which we were now camped may well have rung to the sounds of the crack of leather on willow and cries of 'catch it' and 'howzaaat?' 





This park is located in a decidedly rural setting. Standing out the front of the park office afforded a view across the vineyards on the slopes opposite,















compete with one of the most unusual looking houses I had seen for some time.

Beyond the rows of sites at this end of the park, which were clearly popular with many (unlike us who prefer more space if possible)











the wide expanses of the unpowered camping ground sites












looked out over a flat rural vista with the Richmond township nestled amongst the trees in the distance.













Van sites in this section of the park varied. On some the annex area was grey dolomite with the occasion tree,











whilst others provided more greenery.












And of course, given that this was the Richmond Cabin and Tourist Park, there were plenty of cabins, some newer














than others, all conveniently arranged around a central BBQ hut











which, despite its decidedly rustic appearance, seemed to be more than fit for purpose.












Behind the ablution block, where all worked as expected, the tennis court 











abutted a small kiddies' playground.














It was in this area that I found what I presumed to be the 'main' camp kitchen, which like all the other cooking areas












maintained the 'bushie' theme. 












The dark wooden exterior of the pool building came with one of the most interesting child proof door locking devices we had ever some across.












Two hands operating simultaneously, attached to a person of some height, were needed to activate this opening. This was an entry operation well beyond the capacity of toddlers. Very clever!

















One look inside this building was enough to convince me that this park encourages and caters for families, although little folk were thin on the ground during our brief stay. 

And when one tired of belting or butting balls on the eight ball or table tennis tables, this lounge provided a comfortable place in which to catch up with a bit of viewing, 










whilst immediately adjacent to the TV room this reasonably large indoor pool invited a splash in any weather.








All in all this was a comfortable and well equipped camp. It was a shame that the unseasonable dry weather had rendered most of the open grass areas little more that expanses of struggling tufts, but short of a prohibitively expensive watering campaign there was little that the park management could do about that.



In any event, we were not here to loll about, well not beyond our arrival day. Even then, we did make an initial sortie into town before repairing back to enjoy a very pleasant afternoon libation or two under the shade of the gum trees.









And what was the point of being right next to a camp BBQ without making use of it? None, I thought. 








We were more than happy with our choice of site and enthusiastically looking forward to the morrow when we planned to hoof it all around the indisputably historic town of Richmond. My shutter finger was already beginning to twitch!