St Helens is the largest town on the Tasmanian eastern seaboard. Compared to sleepy Swansea, this place was all hustle and bustle, and there is a very good reason for that.....it is also the gateway to the camp grounds and beaches of the Bay of Fires, a real tourist mecca as we later discovered.
Apart from tourism, which plays a critical role in the local economy, St Helens is the service centre for the local timber and fishing industries. And yet for all that, it has a population of less than 3,000. That's Tassie for you!
The area was first sighted by Europeans in 1773 when Tobias Furneaux, that Englishman with the French name, the skipper of 'HMS Adventure', was wandering up this coast after having been separated from the redoubtable Captain James Cook with whom he had been sailing. He named the southern point of Georges Bay St Helens Point after the town of the same name on the Isle of Wight.
Whalers and sealers were the first to settle in the area in about 1830, and although a whaling station was established at Binalong Bay, this venture was short lived and commercial activity in the area slowed.
In 1874 this all changed with the discovery of tin at nearby Blue Tier. Miners swarmed in (including an estimated 1,000 Chinese) and the port of St Helens flourished as the point of export. St Helens was on the map, but by the beginning of the 20th Century the tin reserves had been exhausted and although some miners remained in the town, many moved on.
The fishing industry filled the gap, and complementary boat building and chandlery businesses were soon developed.
In what could best be described as a quirk of nature, St Helens lies in an area which defies the normal image of Tasmania as a place of incessant rain constantly chilled by the freezing winds of the Roaring Forties. The combination of the surrounding hills and the warm ocean currents which flow southwards down the east coast of the mainland (how often have we seen Sydney-Hobart yachts taking advantage of this current?) and swirl about the north-east corner of Tassie, produce a local micro climate which sees St Helens enjoying temperatures consistently warmer than winter in Melbourne. Is it any wonder it attracts tourists?
As 'Aussie Towns' notes: "No wonder St Helens is known as an ideal place for rock and surf fishing. It is famous for its oysters, scallops, abalone, rock lobsters and flounder."
And as we were soon to discover, St Helens is also known as the game fishing capital of Tasmania. But that's for later. First up...a walk into town.
St Helens wraps itself around the head of Georges Bay as this aerial (courtesy of '247stay') so clearly shows. Our walk into town was to take us from our caravan park (red arrow) down to the
bridge across the narrows, past the marina area (yellow arrow) and on into the town's main shopping area which I've circled in typically shaky style in blue.
St Helens wraps itself around the head of Georges Bay as this aerial (courtesy of '247stay') so clearly shows. Our walk into town was to take us from our caravan park (red arrow) down to the
bridge across the narrows, past the marina area (yellow arrow) and on into the town's main shopping area which I've circled in typically shaky style in blue.
We headed out down Penelope Street towards the harbour at the end of the street,
where a narrow local service road ran parallel to the Tasman Highway taking traffic into town.
As we made our way along this roadway I could not help but notice this most peculiar balcony decoration. I wondered if the owners may have needed a guiding light to get them home after a big night out!
What a contrast this nearby home presented. St Helens is not steeped in history or crowded with old buildings like many Tassie towns, but Fair Lea, circa 1897, does its best to fly the flag of some old time style and class.
We soon reached Jason Street, where in front of us stood one of the several quite large local motels, Queechy Motel and Cottages. There had to be story in that name, but.....
We soon reached Jason Street, where in front of us stood one of the several quite large local motels, Queechy Motel and Cottages. There had to be story in that name, but.....
As the Tasman Highway winds its way into town around the edge of Georges Bay, the carriageway is wretchedly narrow to say the least (as we discovered coming in with the van).
There is no room for a footpath of any kind and dicing with the traffic on foot along here would be foolhardy in the extreme. Fortunately this problem has been recognised by the local powers that be and we could see that a dedicated walking path had been built above the road.
There is no room for a footpath of any kind and dicing with the traffic on foot along here would be foolhardy in the extreme. Fortunately this problem has been recognised by the local powers that be and we could see that a dedicated walking path had been built above the road.
We set off with gusto along the well maintained path high over the road below,
a vantage point from which we could gain our first really good look at the St Helens boat harbour which is an inescapable feature of the arrival into the town from this direction.
We were about to cross what I've decided to call 'the narrows' for want of a better description. Here the modern road and foot bridge crosses what is actually an inlet off Georges Bay, Medeas Cove.
As we began to cross the bridge we came across this plaque and an old photo which showed that the 'Golden Fleece Bridge' is now a far cry from its original form. What a real little shanty town the early St Helens was with this jumble of cottages crowded one on top of the other around the waterfront.
Further evidence of the original structure was evident in the remnants of the old stone footings which still lie below the bridge on the Cove side. We though we could see oyster shells dotting the nearby rocks, and as we discovered on our return trip, we were right.
Medeas Cove is quite substantial body of water, particularly at high tide. The building you can vaguely see on the far right is one of the town's highly regarded and promoted seafood outlets. We had decided to make a quick detour to check it out en route into the CBD.
Beyond the far end of the Golden Fleece Bridge (I did try, unsuccessfully to determine the origin of this unlikely name)
we were confronted by a small park at the apex of the road junction where the 'main drag' ran off to the right, and The Esplanade (around Medeas Cove) to the left. The small park between them is dedicated to those lost at sea whilst fishing.
This modest inscribed granite memorial was more or less what we would have expected to find here,
but we both agreed this second contribution was certainly something different. The metal rose was actually quite beautifully done. We did however wonder about the need to drape it with red flashing led lights....a tad tawdry?
Moving right along we toddled off down The Esplanade to the wooden building which was home to 'Salty Seas', purportedly purveyors of all things fine from the briny.
As well as being a retail outlet, this establishment caters for those wishing to graze or dine more substantially on an outside deck overlooking the cove. The cleverly named 'Oyster Buoy' restaurant display a price board which seemed reasonable, but we were here well before it opened for business.
What did take us back a bit was the nearby alternative outdoor seating facility (we presumed that is what this was).
We were somewhat mystified by what we had seen on approach to this establishment, but now all was clear. Novel it may have been, but comfortable???
Although the dining areas were vacant, the retail section was open for business. We did take a brief moment to pop in only to discover that we would never again criticise Stanley seafood prices. And that probably says enough about what we found here!
Medeus Cove at high tide is quite an attractive sight, but I'm afraid the same cannot be said as the waters of the bay ebb away to join the expanses of Bass Strait (we'll see where all this happens later). But at least from here we could gain another perspective of the hill across which we had just tramped and the bridge we had crossed.
Just beyond the bridge, the Tasman Highway continues on past the boat harbour,
past the large local police complex
a vantage point from which we could gain our first really good look at the St Helens boat harbour which is an inescapable feature of the arrival into the town from this direction.
We were about to cross what I've decided to call 'the narrows' for want of a better description. Here the modern road and foot bridge crosses what is actually an inlet off Georges Bay, Medeas Cove.
As we began to cross the bridge we came across this plaque and an old photo which showed that the 'Golden Fleece Bridge' is now a far cry from its original form. What a real little shanty town the early St Helens was with this jumble of cottages crowded one on top of the other around the waterfront.
Further evidence of the original structure was evident in the remnants of the old stone footings which still lie below the bridge on the Cove side. We though we could see oyster shells dotting the nearby rocks, and as we discovered on our return trip, we were right.
Medeas Cove is quite substantial body of water, particularly at high tide. The building you can vaguely see on the far right is one of the town's highly regarded and promoted seafood outlets. We had decided to make a quick detour to check it out en route into the CBD.
Beyond the far end of the Golden Fleece Bridge (I did try, unsuccessfully to determine the origin of this unlikely name)
we were confronted by a small park at the apex of the road junction where the 'main drag' ran off to the right, and The Esplanade (around Medeas Cove) to the left. The small park between them is dedicated to those lost at sea whilst fishing.
This modest inscribed granite memorial was more or less what we would have expected to find here,
but we both agreed this second contribution was certainly something different. The metal rose was actually quite beautifully done. We did however wonder about the need to drape it with red flashing led lights....a tad tawdry?
Moving right along we toddled off down The Esplanade to the wooden building which was home to 'Salty Seas', purportedly purveyors of all things fine from the briny.
As well as being a retail outlet, this establishment caters for those wishing to graze or dine more substantially on an outside deck overlooking the cove. The cleverly named 'Oyster Buoy' restaurant display a price board which seemed reasonable, but we were here well before it opened for business.
What did take us back a bit was the nearby alternative outdoor seating facility (we presumed that is what this was).
We were somewhat mystified by what we had seen on approach to this establishment, but now all was clear. Novel it may have been, but comfortable???
Although the dining areas were vacant, the retail section was open for business. We did take a brief moment to pop in only to discover that we would never again criticise Stanley seafood prices. And that probably says enough about what we found here!
Medeus Cove at high tide is quite an attractive sight, but I'm afraid the same cannot be said as the waters of the bay ebb away to join the expanses of Bass Strait (we'll see where all this happens later). But at least from here we could gain another perspective of the hill across which we had just tramped and the bridge we had crossed.
Just beyond the bridge, the Tasman Highway continues on past the boat harbour,
past the large local police complex
and the modern buildings of the Break O' Day Council Chambers.
I must admit that at first the name chosen for this area of local government struck me as a little overly poetical, but a quick bit of serious thinking soon altered that.
This is the first part of Tasmania to see the rays of the rising sun each day, and whilst I'm usually pretty impressed with council logos generally, this one really was a standout (for me at least)....a very clever combination of all which is naturally prominent here.....the mountains, the long sandy beaches and the rising sun.
Just beyond the council offices, the road again divides, this time around the large and pretty unattractive bulk
of the St Helens Bayside Inn (have you ever seen anything looking less like an 'Inn'?),
and from here we found ourselves meandering on down towards the shops and commercial establishments of Cecilia Street.
One of the town features which we clearly remembered from our first drive through here just before Xmas were the small white skiffs 'sunk' here and there into the soil of the street verges. Previously these had been ablaze with the striking colours of massed petunias, but, to our disappointment, on this occasion the boat were bare. Summer was indeed behind us.
Large street trees feature along much of Cecilia Street, and here at the intersection with Circassian Street they are really prominent on one corner.
They provide a practical and attractive screen for a small park behind which we were surprised to find the local hospital buildings, a rarity in the main street of a town in our experience.
The opposite corner is occupied by another of the few St Helens buildings which can legitimately lay claim to age. What is now one of the two major town supermarkets rose here in 1876 but I strongly suspect there have been a few changes made since then.
It was at this point in our walkabout that the significance of tourism for the St Helens economy really began to hit home. As the gateway to the myriad of camping grounds along the shores of the Bay of Fires to the north, at this time of the year (after the school holidays and before the real onset of winter) the town was a milling mass of mobile accommodation of all kinds....caravans, camper trailers and mobile homes, small and large.
Most needed fuel before heading out for their communion with nature. Every service station in town was a picture of chaos, sometimes vaguely organised, but in many instances not so.
We actually paused here for a while to just watch the bedlam and listened on with mild amusement to the less than occasional expression of frustration or the provision of cogent advice by one driver to another (usually well deserved!)
The nearby drive through outlet of the local BWS liquor store was equally busy. Well, that's sorted two of the liquid essentials!
Needless to say the local bakery was also doing a roaring trade, but frankly this was nothing to what we next came to on the other side of the road.
Now I am prepared to concede that on this particular occasion there was a reason for the glut of foot traffic in this area (as you will see shortly), but we did note that on every instance when we were in this part of town, this pop up coffee shop was going gangbusters. Today was no exception. The mural on the wall was something of a giveaway,
and we were unsurprised to find that the park next door was dedicated to those who had served.
A mixture of commercial buildings lined the opposite side of Cecilia Street
on the approach to what I think could be reasonably termed the major town intersection, that of Cecilia and Quail Streets. At first glance this might seem a somewhat improbable statement,
but when coming into to town from the other direction, this large road sign explains it all. Quail Street is the main thoroughfare out of St Helens to all that is on offer along the coast and elsewhere north of the town.
This queue of traffic trying to enter Cecilia Street from the Binalong Bay area was absolutely typical of what can be seen here for the better part of every day.
West of the intersection on Quail Street we found the large St Helens RSL building, one we were keen to locate. By sheer coincidence we had earlier learnt that on the night after our arrival this well regarded social venue was offering an Elvis tribute concert together with a three course meal for the unbelievable price of $30 per head. We were in, or at least we hoped to be.
Needless to say at this point in our wandering about town we ducked down the road post haste and left rejoicing shortly thereafter with a booking assured.
Just north of this intersection the St Helens Providore store, which offers all things 'gormet Tasmania', is housed in an almost incongruously modern building,
but the 'lolly shop' opposite displayed no such pretension.
West of the intersection on Quail Street we found the large St Helens RSL building, one we were keen to locate. By sheer coincidence we had earlier learnt that on the night after our arrival this well regarded social venue was offering an Elvis tribute concert together with a three course meal for the unbelievable price of $30 per head. We were in, or at least we hoped to be.
Needless to say at this point in our wandering about town we ducked down the road post haste and left rejoicing shortly thereafter with a booking assured.
Just north of this intersection the St Helens Providore store, which offers all things 'gormet Tasmania', is housed in an almost incongruously modern building,
but the 'lolly shop' opposite displayed no such pretension.
Further north along Cecilia Street the roadside trees presented a charming picture in the near distance,
and from what we could see on this old photo on a footpath plaque, beautiful shade trees have been a feature of this part of the main street for quite some time.
Before we pushed on further we stumbled across another serious gathering. We had stumbled on the town market which was set up in the parking bay near the St Helens Visitor Information Centre.
This was not a particularly thriving venture, but because the stalls and customers had taken this area over, I later returned to take a couple of less impeded shots.
These included the 'town history' mural and
the almost obligatory old steam traction engine,
but it was what I had spotted in front of the rather innocuous looking information centre building at the end of the car park which really got me it.
Why on earth would the St Helens Visitor Information Centre, in a town noted for its fishing and timber industries, but particularly its seafood, make such an ostentatious display of a bloody great long dragon of all things? And as you can see, there had been no half measures taken in setting this cement beast in place.
As with most mysteries, the answer seemed simple once we knew what it was. Of course it was.....how could we have forgotten......TIN!
You may recall that earlier in this missive I made reference to the fact that St Helens gained a huge leg up in its early development with the discovery of tin in the Blue Tiers. You may also remember my note about the influx of Chinese into this area at the same time.
Well it happens that this was not the only area in this part of Tasmania where the discovery and subsequent mining of alluvial tin played a major role in the economic development of many towns. And it seems that the early immigrant Chinese were all over it.
In memory of this little know aspect of the development of life in north-eastern Tasmania, one can now follow the 'Tin Dragon Trail', a series of commemorative sites, plaques and other bits and pieces, which stretch along the route from Launceston, through towns such as Welborough and Derby, to reach an end in the reading room of the St Helens Visitor Information Centre.
So, now armed with that bit of information, the St Helens Dragon took on a much more rational perspective. I have to admit that during our previous December transit of this route, we had noticed a few odds and ends, signs mainly, indicating some Chinese connection, but had blithely ignored them. We finally knew better.
By now the buildings of the CBD were well and truly behind us but we did push on for a few hundred metres more to bag photos of what were the last of significant St Helens buildings we were to see. Both were obviously churches, this the home of worship to the local Catholic population,
whilst almost directly opposite the spire of the much smaller St Paul's Anglican church rose skywards. It's always puzzled me during our travels to see just how often churches of competing denominations in smallish towns have been built in strangely close proximity, almost as though some areas have a special unseen holiness about them. St Helens was no exception.
By now we were pretty comfortable we had a more than fair handle on the St Helens CBD. As we walked back to recross the Golden Fleece Bridge all that remained was to take a closer look at what was obviously one of the town's more significant areas of infrastructure, the marina.
Here a series of mooring fingers jut out into Georges Bay providing security
for all manner of vessels,
both recreational and commercial.
Some skippers had no need to avail themselves of these land based tie up facilities. A mooring in the bay was obviously good enough for the owner of this fine looking cruiser.
Dockside, a large public BBQ shed and eating tables provided facilities for those wanting to picnic by the Bay,
whilst those wising to be catered for and waited on could take a seat at the waterside 'Captains Catch'
or in the hull of the nearby floating restaurant, 'Skippers'.
I have made previous reference to the fact that St Helens is regarded as Tasmania's home of game fishing and as we were prowling around the marina area we came across evidence of that very fact in the form of this stylised marlin atop a pole bearing the proclamation that this was the weigh in point for the upcoming game fishing contest.
As if to emphasise the fact this serious off-shore craft was parked nearby (we were to see many more of these later).
As was to be expected in an area such as this, the dock facilities included a large building where the impressive radio mast and naval type flag pole set up were a dead giveaway.....the HQ of the local Marine Rescue group.
And as we shall see later, whilst the waters of Georges Bay were rarely ruffled, the same cannot be said for the marine maelstroms which occur at the seaward end. Bass Strait can be the most unforgiving place, and in fact during our stay there was a major rescue off nearby Ansons Bay.
As far as the fishing fleet was concerned, we saved the best till last. These two sleek, well equipped modern fishing trawlers occupied the last dock we were to pass,
before we once again made our way across the bridge and up onto the walking path which was to take us back to our base.
At this point I must remind you of the fact that we had thought we could see oyster shell dotted on the rocks of Medeas Cove as we had meandered into town some hours previously.
I'm not sure what prompted this couple to forage....common sense would have dictated that the pickings here would have to be minimal at best.
Moreover, throughout the island warning signs advise against consumption when the waters in which the molluscs have chosen to grow is less than pristine. The close proximity of busy boat harbours heads the list. Mind you, looking at their garb I suspect they are anything but locals! Good luck on both fronts.
And finally, here comes Elvis!
All who read regularly will be aware we both love a night out with live music, particularly that of the 50's, 60's and 70's (well, let's face it, I'm 73 years of age...I know the words when the songs are that old!). We were really looking forward to a great night out here in St Helens.
After a brisk walk into town (which we knew would take about fifteen minutes) we arrived keen and eager, and clearly a touch earlier than most of the locals. The dining area was bare,
so we wandered over and joined a few of the RSL members at the bar. We were welcomed warmly by those gathered (I did have my RSL polo top on). This welcome even extended to an introduction to the branch President, a most gracious and entertaining host who was on for a big chat.
The stage had been set previously,
and when we finally wandered over to our table, we were delighted to find that we had a clear view of the performing area.
The hordes flocked in, the tables filled, and we were soon approached by a waitress with menu in hand.
We knew that our more than modest fee of $30 for the evening was to include a three course meal, and frankly we were not expecting too much. Just something to fill the gap would be more than sufficient.
Imagine our surprise and delight when our waitress dropped this in front of us. Joy...a sensible menu! The only proviso was that the main course was to come out as 'an alternate drop', i.e steak to one placing, fish and chips the next. Not a problem for us.....steak for me, the fish for Liz. Even the entree was ideal.
Folks, this meal was one out of the box......each course a real treat. We had even managed to score a bottle of more than quaffable wine in the obligatory pre-dinner raffle....this evening just kept giving and giving!
and from what we could see on this old photo on a footpath plaque, beautiful shade trees have been a feature of this part of the main street for quite some time.
Before we pushed on further we stumbled across another serious gathering. We had stumbled on the town market which was set up in the parking bay near the St Helens Visitor Information Centre.
This was not a particularly thriving venture, but because the stalls and customers had taken this area over, I later returned to take a couple of less impeded shots.
These included the 'town history' mural and
the almost obligatory old steam traction engine,
but it was what I had spotted in front of the rather innocuous looking information centre building at the end of the car park which really got me it.
Why on earth would the St Helens Visitor Information Centre, in a town noted for its fishing and timber industries, but particularly its seafood, make such an ostentatious display of a bloody great long dragon of all things? And as you can see, there had been no half measures taken in setting this cement beast in place.
As with most mysteries, the answer seemed simple once we knew what it was. Of course it was.....how could we have forgotten......TIN!
You may recall that earlier in this missive I made reference to the fact that St Helens gained a huge leg up in its early development with the discovery of tin in the Blue Tiers. You may also remember my note about the influx of Chinese into this area at the same time.
Well it happens that this was not the only area in this part of Tasmania where the discovery and subsequent mining of alluvial tin played a major role in the economic development of many towns. And it seems that the early immigrant Chinese were all over it.
In memory of this little know aspect of the development of life in north-eastern Tasmania, one can now follow the 'Tin Dragon Trail', a series of commemorative sites, plaques and other bits and pieces, which stretch along the route from Launceston, through towns such as Welborough and Derby, to reach an end in the reading room of the St Helens Visitor Information Centre.
So, now armed with that bit of information, the St Helens Dragon took on a much more rational perspective. I have to admit that during our previous December transit of this route, we had noticed a few odds and ends, signs mainly, indicating some Chinese connection, but had blithely ignored them. We finally knew better.
By now the buildings of the CBD were well and truly behind us but we did push on for a few hundred metres more to bag photos of what were the last of significant St Helens buildings we were to see. Both were obviously churches, this the home of worship to the local Catholic population,
whilst almost directly opposite the spire of the much smaller St Paul's Anglican church rose skywards. It's always puzzled me during our travels to see just how often churches of competing denominations in smallish towns have been built in strangely close proximity, almost as though some areas have a special unseen holiness about them. St Helens was no exception.
By now we were pretty comfortable we had a more than fair handle on the St Helens CBD. As we walked back to recross the Golden Fleece Bridge all that remained was to take a closer look at what was obviously one of the town's more significant areas of infrastructure, the marina.
Here a series of mooring fingers jut out into Georges Bay providing security
for all manner of vessels,
both recreational and commercial.
Some skippers had no need to avail themselves of these land based tie up facilities. A mooring in the bay was obviously good enough for the owner of this fine looking cruiser.
Dockside, a large public BBQ shed and eating tables provided facilities for those wanting to picnic by the Bay,
whilst those wising to be catered for and waited on could take a seat at the waterside 'Captains Catch'
or in the hull of the nearby floating restaurant, 'Skippers'.
I have made previous reference to the fact that St Helens is regarded as Tasmania's home of game fishing and as we were prowling around the marina area we came across evidence of that very fact in the form of this stylised marlin atop a pole bearing the proclamation that this was the weigh in point for the upcoming game fishing contest.
As if to emphasise the fact this serious off-shore craft was parked nearby (we were to see many more of these later).
As was to be expected in an area such as this, the dock facilities included a large building where the impressive radio mast and naval type flag pole set up were a dead giveaway.....the HQ of the local Marine Rescue group.
And as we shall see later, whilst the waters of Georges Bay were rarely ruffled, the same cannot be said for the marine maelstroms which occur at the seaward end. Bass Strait can be the most unforgiving place, and in fact during our stay there was a major rescue off nearby Ansons Bay.
As far as the fishing fleet was concerned, we saved the best till last. These two sleek, well equipped modern fishing trawlers occupied the last dock we were to pass,
before we once again made our way across the bridge and up onto the walking path which was to take us back to our base.
I'm not sure what prompted this couple to forage....common sense would have dictated that the pickings here would have to be minimal at best.
Moreover, throughout the island warning signs advise against consumption when the waters in which the molluscs have chosen to grow is less than pristine. The close proximity of busy boat harbours heads the list. Mind you, looking at their garb I suspect they are anything but locals! Good luck on both fronts.
And finally, here comes Elvis!
All who read regularly will be aware we both love a night out with live music, particularly that of the 50's, 60's and 70's (well, let's face it, I'm 73 years of age...I know the words when the songs are that old!). We were really looking forward to a great night out here in St Helens.
After a brisk walk into town (which we knew would take about fifteen minutes) we arrived keen and eager, and clearly a touch earlier than most of the locals. The dining area was bare,
so we wandered over and joined a few of the RSL members at the bar. We were welcomed warmly by those gathered (I did have my RSL polo top on). This welcome even extended to an introduction to the branch President, a most gracious and entertaining host who was on for a big chat.
The stage had been set previously,
and when we finally wandered over to our table, we were delighted to find that we had a clear view of the performing area.
The hordes flocked in, the tables filled, and we were soon approached by a waitress with menu in hand.
We knew that our more than modest fee of $30 for the evening was to include a three course meal, and frankly we were not expecting too much. Just something to fill the gap would be more than sufficient.
Imagine our surprise and delight when our waitress dropped this in front of us. Joy...a sensible menu! The only proviso was that the main course was to come out as 'an alternate drop', i.e steak to one placing, fish and chips the next. Not a problem for us.....steak for me, the fish for Liz. Even the entree was ideal.
Folks, this meal was one out of the box......each course a real treat. We had even managed to score a bottle of more than quaffable wine in the obligatory pre-dinner raffle....this evening just kept giving and giving!
We had barely wiped the chocolate mouse from our lips when the man himself arrived. Elvis was in the building (albeit looking rather blurred in these hastily taken photos)! I've now forgotten this bloke's name, but he did bear a good reputation around the island, and he lived up to it.
Elvis hits old and new, a couple of costume changes, a more than passable voice with a good solid musical backing, and a performance which lasted just a touch shy of two and a half hours. To quote one of the early song titles of the artist to whom this tribute show was dedicated, it really was "Such a Night".
This had been a wonderful welcome to St Helens. But as of the morrow there was much to do. The Bay of Fires and beyond awaited our attention. We were keen to spend a few days camping out along the coast, but we had some reservations. They proved to be well founded. Stay tuned!
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