Back track one day from my last to Saturday 2 December, when the weather was but brewing by comparison. Despite the gloom we were determined to get out and about. The BI lighthouse and Cloudy Bay were two scenic items on today's agenda.
We already knew that the BI Ultra- Marathon had been scheduled for today, a 64 kilometre slog from Dennes Point in the north to the BI lighthouse at the other end of the island. Entrants could compete as either solo runners or form relay groups to run over repeating sectors of 2 kms each. This facet of the race organisation was to prove significant.
As we headed out from Adventure Bay to the junction of the B66 and the start of our 32 kilometre trip south to the BI lighthouse, we saw the first of what was to be many runners slogging along in the misty rain.
And then we hit this first line of vehicles crowded onto the verge and restricting access along what was at the best of times a somewhat narrow highway.
At first we were somewhat puzzled by this congregation. We initially took them for spectators and then the penny dropped......these were the support vehicles delivering relay runners to their allotted segments and retrieving those from whom they took over. This phenomenon was to become the story of the day, and I can tell you that this first encounter was very well organised by comparison to what we came across later.
At least the runners along this stretch had the relative luxury of pounding along on a sealed surface.
As we approached Alonnah the sight of this drinks station looming out of the surrounding mist seemed almost incongruous, but even this weather (which I was later told delighted the serious competitors) would not forestall dehydration.
For a brief period we found ourselves alone on the road,
but as we left the blacktop just south or Alonnah we caught the next group who were now slogging along on the quite firm but definitely muddy surface which would now be their lot to the end of the race.
On this leg of our trip for the day, this junction,cluttered with signs, heralded a right hand turn for the Bruny Lighthouse. We would visit Cloudy Bay on the return leg.
And here an uphill slog added to the woes of the competitors who were already dealing with mud and mist.
Again we had a period of runner respite, but now our progress was impeded by a frustratingly slow visitor (as we later discovered at the lighthouse car park) who felt that safety demanded that she hug the centre of the road at a constant 30 mph. Any thought of a passing manoeuvre was clearly out of the question in these conditions.
To my relief we now had not much further to go, a fact confirmed by our emergence from the tall timber into the South Bruny National Park where we had our first view out across the coastal sedge to the relatively sheltered waters of Mabel Bay, the keepers' cottages and the Cape Bruny Lighthouse in the misty distance.
Needless to say the weather did disappoint, but we remained determinedly philosophical
as we drove on past the cottages
and just managed to squeeze in next to a large motor home into what was the last remaining (formal) parking space at the base of the light.
It was time to rug up and brave the elements as we made our way up the steep track to the crest on which the lighthouse towered.
"Where did all this wind come from?" "Remember where you are, Lizzie." I doubt that was much consolation!
Interestingly though, despite the icy blasts which were assaulting Cape Bruny
and whipping the seas around the tip
and to the east into a frenzy,
the smallish cove on the western edge of the cape was a picture of peace. And its name? Of course.......Quiet Bay!
The lighthouse itself was an impressive structure (here seen from the rear)
and here (with my thanks to 'pinterest') from the front.
Like so many of these sentinels of the seas, the Cape Bruny Light was born out of disasters. A series of shipwrecks south of the cape, culminating in a catastrophic loss of life when the convict ship 'George III' foundered in 1835 (you may remember the anchor on the forshore at Dover!), prompted the then Governor George Arthur to commission the construction of a light to guide vessels safely around the cape.
Designed by the colonial architect John Lee Archer, it was built from local stone by a team of twelve convicts under the supervision of Charles Watson, himself a pardoned convict, at a final cost of 2,500 pounds. When completed in 1838 the Cape Bruny lighthouse became Tasmania's third (after Iron Pot and Low Head) and only the fourth in Australia and although it has now been replaced by a solar powered tower it remains the longest continually staffed lighthouse still in existence in the country.
And those staff did not lead a life of beer and skittles, particularly in the earlier days, as this quote from the excellent Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife Service website explains:
"Life for Cape Bruny’s nineteenth century lightkeepers was sublime in its spectacular isolation, demanding in the physical work required and routine and mundane in its day to day duties. Despite their long hours on duty Tasmanian lightkeepers were poorly paid and many toiled for years without leave.
After 1878 staff at Cape Bruny enjoyed 14 days leave per annum with half their passage to and from the island paid. While duties such as chopping firewood, unloading stores or repairing roads might be postponed on special occasions keeping the brasswork and lamps polished, the windows cleaned, spare lamps in order and the light illuminated at night was a daily task.
The nightly task of maintaining the light was unremitting. Each lighthouse had a unique light characteristic which was ensured by a clockwork planetary table requiring rewinding every eight hours. The fifteen lamps of the original 1838 Wilkins lantern each burned 600mls of expensive sperm whale oil per hour and needed frequent refilling. The lamps were extremely fragile, being replaced every three nights in 1839. Light keepers who neglected these primary duties of maintaining the light risked summary dismissal — the Marine Board’s lighthouse inspector, James Meech, boasted that ‘he made [the keepers] tremble’ during inspections."
I think it fair to say that many a mariner from 1838 onwards owed these stalwarts a large drink....preferably rum or something equally warming!
Given the weather, our time at the top was limited. After our descent from the gale ravaged crest to the comparative calm of the old keepers' cottage area below,
we did pop into the lighthouse museum, albeit briefly.
I have to say was this not the most well organised or presented historical chamber, but it did contain one or two items which attracted my interest, not least of which was this odd looking mechanism.
The small plaque on the floor below it provided a well received explanation.
My attention was also grabbed by this poster which detailed the manner in which communications were maintained over the years.
Some of the comments were classics. That the use of signal flags could prove "problematic in foggy conditions" seemed to me to be a comment of unassailable logic, and I did chuckle to read that the use of courier pigeons was considered an "update".
But enough of this whimsy and reflections on the past.....it was time to rejoin the present and make our way back down the rather potholed road from the car park
to the unsealed road beyond, where the gathered group of vehicles did not bode well for an uneventful trip back the way we had come.
How true this was. As more and more of the relay groups neared the finish point, frantic support crews fought for parking places, chaotically crowding the already narrow road. And then there were the idiots like the clown in the red vehicle barging forward regardless of oncoming traffic. As you probably would have expected, words of one syllable were exchanged through a rapidly lowered window!
Fortunately the driver of the rented people mover who had been attempting to block our progress completely with a 'U' turn manoeuvre decided that we did have some right to continue our passage along what remained of our side of the carriageway, and backed into what I suspect was the only clear spot within cooee.
But we only just cleared him, before we really ran the gauntlet. To their acknowledged appreciation, we stopped completely each time a runner approached. After all they were the ones putting in the hard yards and deserved that courtesy, but as for the supporters and spectators.....their behaviour was akin to that exhibited by those who line up at the store doors during the post Xmas sales.....ugly!
We had anticipated some disruption, but I have to say that this was mayhem. I know we were on BI where doing things differently is almost a way of life, but the complete lack of traffic control and effective and safe management of controlled relay changeover sites in the latter stages of the event, where the roads were at their least forgiving, was a sad reflection on the organisational skills of those in charge of this event.
But we obviously made it though the chaos, very slowly, and eventually found ourselves back in clear air and passing one of the old wood paling apple sheds with its rusted roof, just one of many which dot the roadside here in the south.....so 'typically Tassie'!
The tide was well and truly out as we drove back past Little Taylors Bay
and into the third South Bruny 'town'.
This is probably the oppropriate time to explain these odd sounding names (Alonnah and Lunawanna). They do tend to stand out amongst all the French and English names bestowed hither and yon throughout this area by the early explorers and settlers.
As you might have guessed, they are aboriginal. The original inhabitants of BI knew the island as Lunawanna-alonnah, and these names now live on in these two South Bruny townships.
Lunawanna is perched on the edge of Daniels Bay, where our view of it through the gums from the road above the bay was yet again of low tide sand flats.
Here we drove on past the road junction which would have taken us back through Alonnah to Adventure Bay
and continued on south down the C629 towards our next destination for the morning, Cloudy Bay which, if this view over the passing hills was any indicator, was well named.
As I mentioned before, this was one occasion on which the weather was a real disappointment. As we drove down to the beachfront parking area, the gloom remained annoyingly pervasive.
Here too, unsurprisingly, the tide was also well on the ebb exposing the broad sweep of sand to the south
and the rocky foreshore in the other direction
as we gazed across the muddy windswept surf to the fluted rocky bluff of West Cloudy Head.
We could but wonder what it cost to build and furnish these two fine looking homes cosseted in the surrounding scrub overlooking the bay.
As this shot courtesy of 'tourstogo' shows, on a fine day Cloudy Bay is a different place altogether.
As is so often said, we can control much of our lives but not the weather. At least we had now seen this quite famous South Bruny location. It was now time to retrace our steps back through Lunawanna and beyond. The cellar door of Bruny Island Wines was the last stop on today's list.
En route we had 'the tale of two houses' where this decaying cottage
stood in stark comparison to this lovely island home surrounded by delightful yellow wildflowers.
Bruny Island Wines.....celebrated as one of BI's 'must do' food trail destinations.
We pulled into the car park at the modern cellar door building and wandered inside
This, we found, was a very slick setup.
I did not disturb the many patrons in the two dining areas (hence no photos), one of which was completely occupied by a tour group at what was obviously a 'tasting luncheon'. I think I have previously mentioned that there are day tours run out of Hobart to BI which focus entirely on the food trail....oysters, cheese, berries, chocolate, honey and of course, BI wines. Given that this group was being regaled by a staff member who was holding a bottle aloft, I could only assume that these were on such a tour.
The eating areas were as smart as the bar. This was a very impressive cellar door, and one which clearly attracted significant custom.
But did we sample.......what do you think? We already knew that the pinots here retailed at $50 and $60 a bottle and the whites ranged from $35 to $48. Although I have since discovered that tasting charges are now creeping into a number of the celler doors in the Barossa Valley and other wine areas of South Australia with which we are all too familiar, I still baulk at this concept.
We moved on. Our caravan wine store was to have no more additions at the end of this most interesting and slightly challenging day.
In my next, after the floods, we explore Adventure Bay itself, a place on the map steeped in history, some of which took us completely by surprise.
