Well, our sojourn at Rosevears was coming to an end. We had one more day trip on our agenda, this time to the other side of the Tamar River to visit George Town and the old lighthouse and pilot station at Low Head, with a side trip into the Bell Bay area en route.
It was a Sunday (and Xmas Eve to boot), and although we did not know it at the time we set out, this was to become very important in relation to what we experienced, but more of that shortly.
Firstly, an overview of where we were touring today, and, after a long absence and an even longer story, I've managed to resurrect Google Earth to assist, and acquired a new skill along the way (the somewhat drunken looking red arrow drawn in at the top of the page).
Bell Bay and George Town are obvious, and the arrow I've inserted is pointing to Low Head and the location of the lighthouse we were to visit.
You will note Beaconsfield at the bottom of the map and the little town of Beauty Point (the name of which has nothing to do with its outlook or scenic appeal......'Beauty' was the name of a local cow....and it has stuck!)
So, from Rosevears we made our way downstream along the western side of the Tamar to the Batman Bridge with its distinctive cable support tower which is so like the mine shaft head frame at Beaconsfield (which was copied from this bridge structure) (thanks to 'abc' for the photo) and duly crossed over to the other side.
From here the A8 took us north towards George Town and the turn off into the Bell Bay area. You can see from the map that here the Tamar estuary provides a patch of deep water on a very sheltered section of the waterway, ideal for a port, and that's exactly what Bell Bay is.....Tasmania's major international port.
We could see some of the empty dock area as we drove in off the highway,
and managed to catch a glimpse of this bulk carrier alongside one of the offshore moorings.
The name Bell Bay may well be resonating with some of you. It was here, some years ago, that the large local timber company, Gunns, proposed the establishment of a huge wood chipping plant. The dreadful effect on the estuary waters from the inevitable industrial waste such a plant would have created ignited the collective fury of not only the greenies but a whole range of other groups. They won the day, the plant did not go ahead, and indeed it was not too long after that Gunns went into receivership. The company had taken a major gamble and had failed.
I must admit I had always pictured Bell Bay as being right on the coast looking out into Bass Strait, but I now knew that this was not the case and the concerns about the effects on the sheltered waters of the port took on new meaning.
Despite the failure of the Gunns proposal, Bell Bay remains home to three major industrial plants, the largest of which we passed on the way into the dock area.
Comalco Aluminium is one of the 'big three' here. With a contribution of approximately just under $700 million to Tasmania's State Gross Product, the now Rio Tinto owned company is a big player indeed.
And as this aerial shot, courtesy of 'pacificaluminium' shows, 'big' is also a good word to describe the size of the smelting plant.
And as this aerial shot, courtesy of 'pacificaluminium' shows, 'big' is also a good word to describe the size of the smelting plant.
Developed in 1955, this aluminium smelter was then the largest in the southern hemisphere. It now employs 435 full time workers and engages another 60 contractors regularly. Together they produce 190,000 tonnes of aluminium ingots (of various sizes) per anum.
We saw a few of these, stacked along the fence line adjacent to the roadway, row after row of them.
Another major player on the world industrial stage, BHP, is also represented here at Bell Bay. Its Tasmanian Electro Metallurgical Company (TEMCO), which is the only plant of its kind in the country, produces what are known as 'terroalloys', which are used to strengthen steel (but you knew that of course!).
To complete the 'big three', the Carter-Holt-Harvey factory here on the banks of the Tamar produces medium density fibre boards, in very large quantities.
To top off the industrial scene the last of Tasmania's fossil fuel power stations can be found here at Bell Bay, not too far from the aluminium smelting works (looking a little smudged in the morning's haze).
En route from Bell Bay to George Town we detoured up to the excellent lookout to be found on Mount George.
From here we could see northwards to the lighthouse overlooking Bass Strait at Low Head,
and, swinging our gazes to the left, George Town and the mouth of the Tamar came into view.
Looking even further to the left, we could now see over the industrial complex at Bell Bay
and, on the other bank of the Tamar (in closer focus), the small docks, aquatic museum buildings and the houses at Beauty Point, still all disappointingly shrouded in the continuing haze.
George Town itself was something of a disappointment to us both for two reasons. Despite the fact that it remains the third oldest British settlement in Australia, its streets do not scream 'history, here I am' and indeed there is very little by way of old buildings to promote the town's undoubtedly important place in the development of Tasmania.
Having said that, however, I must concede that after the magnificence of the buildings of Hobart and parts of Launceston, and the historical delights of both Evandale and Woolmers Estate, we were becoming a little picky!
Both Sydney and Hobart were well under way by the time Lieut-Colonel William Paterson sailed into the Tamar with a small fleet of four ships to settle the northern part of Van Diemen's Land in late 1804. He had with him a party which included convicts, 74 troops and one free settler (bold soul that he must have been!), one hundred and eighty one in all. Paterson's arrival was somewhat inglorious in that his ship, HMS Buffalo, was blown ashore in a gale onto Lagoon Beach at Low Head shortly after it had dropped anchor!
Despite this poor start, Paterson soon established camp at Port Dalrymple and after initially settling in what is now George Town (which he named after King George 111) he explored the area and, discovering the good water supply of the North and South Esk Rivers and the more fertile land of that area, eventually moved the fledgling development to what is now Launceston in March 1806 (which he immodestly initially named Patersonia.....a name which the settlers later rejected!)
The good colonel, who began his military career in India, but was far more interested in botany than soldiering (and was damn good at it, botany that is) was appointed as the the Lieutenant Governor of Northern Van Diemen's Land, a position which disappeared when, in 1812, the northern and southern settlements in the colony were combined and governed from Hobart (and that in itself is another story!) By that time Paterson had been recalled to NSW and in 1810 died at sea whilst en route back to England.
As a quick aside, it is fascinating to read some of the more detailed accounts of the men who were responsible for managing the early colonial settlements in Australia. The personal greed, vanity, self-interest, shifting alliances and, in some cases, sheer incompetence displayed by a great number of them is breathtaking. There were exceptions of course, such as Governor Arthur Phillip, but many who followed him were men made of much lesser stuff.
But back to the present and our quick little jaunt through George Town (and it was quick as I'll shortly explain), which is now home to over 6,500 souls, many of who are employed in the various industries in nearby Bell Bay.
The road into town brought us to Cimitiere Street, the relatively unremarkable main commercial street of George Town. It dawned on me that one of Launceston's major thoroughfares bears the same unusual name, obviously French.
Odd, I thought, a French name of sufficient significance to have been honoured in what was a British colony....this demanded further investigation.
In brief, these streets were named in the memory of one Gilbert Cimitiere, (birth date unknown!) who was indeed French, but who emigrated to England, joined the British army in which he served with valour and distinction as a result of which he rose rapidly through the ranks.
As a Major, Cimitiere eventually found himself in the Antipodes as the head honcho of the developing colony in norther Van Diemen's Land, where he was promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel and then had a major row with his superiors (with good reason), but he was later exonerated and praised for his diligence in the manner in which he had overseen the development of George Town. And there you have it (very briefly).
The signs of the approaching Christmas were evident in the street decorations as we searched for a smallish white building of some historical significance in the main street.
Ah, there it is, the well restored and maintained, whitewashed building, which was the original town Watch House, built in 1843, and now used as the town's main museum.
Right next to this reminder of the forces of law and order in the early days of the settlement, stood the current George Town Police Station, a fittingly solid and practical looking building which would not have attracted too much of my attention, but for one thing.
As I wandered past the front door I could not help but note the opening hours displayed on it......clearly there was to be no disturbing the boys and girls in blue here during lunch hour!! How utterly extraordinary......let's hope the local crims played the game by the rules!
On the opposite side of the street we did spy a pub which exuded some appeal but it was too early and we were on a mission.
We had another George Town museum in our sights. the much publicised Bass and Flinders Centre, where amongst a plethora of other things nautical I was keen to see a replica of the sloop 'Norfolk', the small boat in which Bass and Flinders had sailed into the Tamar in 1798 (and, incidentally, had proved that Van Diemen's Land was indeed an island!).
Like the competent early seafarers, our navigation was spot on.....there it was on the corner of Macquarie and Elizabeth Streets.....and guess what....it was closed......the second of our two town disappointments.
I was seriously peeved, given that I had previously checked to discover that during the summer (which it was) it should have been open from 1000 -1600 hours daily. And no, I did not bother my newly found friend at Tourism Tasmania.....once was enough.
So we pushed on down Elizabeth Street towards the waterfront, where the beautifully refurbished Pier Hotel, built in the mid 1800's, also extended inviting arms,
but again we resisted the temptation and wandered on instead to the end of the road where the local boat ramp provided small boat access to this arm of the waters of the Tamar known as York Cove.
From this vantage point we could see back along Elizabeth Street past the old pub and the new apartments next door,
and along the rather muddy town shore line and the homes of some of the earlier Esplanade residents in this older section of the town.
Unsurprisingly, boating, fishing and other aquatic activities are a recognised staple of George Town recreational activities, and this modern landing pontoon near the boat ramp allows for easy access to launched craft of all types.
From this section of the estuary front we meandered west along Macquarie Street to nearby Windmill Point where this stele like monument stood overlooking the waters of the Tamar.
This impressive slab of local rock is a permanent reminder to all who wander by that this was the point at which Paterson and his merry band of military and convicts (not forgetting the one free settler!) set foot on northern Van Diemen's Land in 1804.
The smallish park near the Paterson monument attracted our attention. What was that odd looking gathering of wooden figures, we wondered.
Closer inspection revealed a clutch of statues mounted on sawn off tree trunks.
Each figure was representative of some significant aspect of the life and development of George Town. What did impress me was the fact that one Eddie Freeman, a resident of the historical little town of Ross (where we were to spend some time later) had achieved all this using a chain saw as his primary carving tool.
With what I have to admit was a somewhat cursory cruise around George Town, we did miss one of its more impressive old buildings, The Grove, built in about 1830 by the chap who took charge of the comings and goings at Port Dalrymple as the Port Officer (a post I assume we could equate to the modern Harbour Master).
With thanks to 'aussietowns' for allowing me to bring you the photo of what is now a delightful George Town B&B I would have to comment that the position of Port Officer must have paid rather well, either that or the redoubtable Lieutenant Matthew Curling Friend, a ship's captain, who had the home built for him, must have had access to a deal of assistance by way of free labour.
With the disappointment of the closed doors of the Bass and Flinders Centre still keen, and after a quick scoot around some of the back streets of the town, we decided to move on. Low Head with its pilot station and lighthouse beckoned.
I have to repeat that we were somewhat underwhelmed by George Town, but I suspect our judgement of this regional administrative centre was a little harsh and by now our touring expectations may have been a touch too high. And before we move on I should note that this town serves another important purpose. It is the point on the island at which the Basslink 400 Kilovolt submarine cable which connects Tasmania to the National Electricity Market makes landfall, although whilst we were on the island this itself was the subject of some significant and on-going functional criticism (with some good reason we thought).
Of course the fact that Liz was still far from physically fit meant that we did not indulge in our normal 'walkabout', and that proved to be a winner today. It meant that we moved on to to Low Head sooner than we may have done otherwise, and that proved to be a winner. Being at the light house at noon on a Sunday is definitely something. I'll explain shortly.
As this Google Earth shot shows, the little village of Low Head lies on the eastern shore of the mouth of the Tamar Estuary,
beyond which a peninsula juts out into Bass Strait as this wonderful aerial, courtesy of 'Peter Bellingham' so clearly demonstrates.
Despite its wide mouth, the entrance to the Tamar is not all plain sailing, as many masters have discovered.
Bass and Flinders skillfully navigated their way into Port Dalrymple with safety, and others including the Col. Paterson fleet, managed without incident (other than being blown ashore in a gale once in York Cove) but in the early days of George Town several ships came to grief at the estuary mouth.
The first of these was the wreck of the 'Hebe' a 250 ton 'full rigged' sailing ship which left Madras, India, with a cargo of Indian produce and one passenger. On 15 June 1808, whilst en route to Sydney, the master decided to put into Port Dalrymple. This proved to be a bad decision. The 'Hebe' struck the rocky ledge which lies below the waters of the entrance and foundered with the loss of one Indian crewman.
This nasty trap for young seafaring players is a real menace. Despite the fact that it lies sufficiently near the surface to ensnare the unwary, unlike many other such rocky outcrops, what is now known as Hebe Reef does not create any disturbance in the sea surface, even at low tide.
The Low Head pilot station had already been established before this and in 1826, as a result of the wreck of the 'Hebe' the 'local committee of Pilotage' recommended the construction of a lighthouse on the point at Low Head. Constructed by convict labour, this lighthouse, which was the third to be built in Australia (after Vaucluse, NSW and the Iron Pot light at the entrance to the River Derwent) was first lit on 27 December 1833.
But even this did not prevent further mishaps. Since the wreck of the 'Hebe' another nine vessels have been lost on Hebe Reef, the last of which resulted in the worst oil spill in Australian history.
I'll let the Low Head Maritime Museum take up the story:
"On the 8th July 1995 the 37,000 ton bulk carrier Iron Baron left Port Kembla for Bell Bay with a cargo of manganese ore, and arrived off Tamar Heads on the 10th, where she dropped anchor to await the pilot and high tide. When the pilot was seen to be approaching the vessel got under weigh, but shortly after he came on board the pilot found that the vessel was off course. While attempting a starboard turn back into the channel, the ship hit Hebe Reef and held fast. Rocks punctured her fuel tanks, resulting in severe pollution of the nearby beaches.
The vessel was hauled off by tugs on the 16th, but a survey found her hull had been very badly strained and there were strong protests against her being towed into the Tamar, still leaking fuel oil. After remaining at anchor outside the Heads for nearly a fortnight, on the 30th July she was towed to a position about 100 kilometres north-east of Flinders Island and scuttled in deep water.
An inquiry found no single individual was to blame for the mishap, but identified several contributing factors including poor navigation, training and passage planning."
What I found incredible about this tale (apart from the fact that it actually happened in this day and age) was that despite all identified damming contributing factors, no blame was attributed to the skipper. A very lucky man, I suspect.
No, it wasn't the main light, but standing as it did beside a cottage of what I assumed was of similar age, this certainly set the scene.
This was one of a few local 'lead' lights, markers designed to provide navigators with direction along an enclosed or restricted waterway and as the sign at its base told us, it had been assisting voyagers here for a long time.
We pushed on through the 'suburbs' of Low Head
and soon found ourselves at the entrance gateway to the compound of the Low Head Pilot Station.
What a delightfully picturesque place, and what a story, part of which has been told by Geoff Richie in his marvellous blog:
"The Low Head Pilot Station is the oldest pilot station in Australia, and contains the oldest buildings of a pilot station in Australia. [It] comprises of a number of buildings including the Pilots' Row building, master warden's cottage, school house, workshop and boatshed, four boat crew cottages and the coxswain's cottage.
The buildings of the station are laid out in a rough semicircle around a central grassed area. The southern orientated buildings are aligned along the shores of Pilot Bay and form the pilot station's earliest structures."
This excellent aerial shot, courtesy of 'letsgokids' provides another view of the manner in which the various buildings were scattered about the 'central grassed area' with the pilot boat basin off to the left and the headland of Low Head at the top of the photo.
All the buildings here have been immaculately maintained, and many are now used for guest accommodation.
Established in 1805 in response to the difficulties confronting those trying to navigate this section of the Tamar Estuary, the Low Head Pilot Station became a small village in its own right. Here, by 1835, the inhabitants included eight pilots, all very experienced seamen, eight leadsman (the fellows who stood in the bow of the vessels and called the depth by swinging a lead weight out in front of the ship and measuring the amount of rope which had played out by the time the lead hit the bottom) and more than twenty ordinary boatmen.
Now the buildings which are not being used to accommodate visitors serve a variety of purposes, such as the cafe,
a chapel
and a Museum.
Scattered about the grounds we came across other artifacts which provided reminders of days gone by. This large and colourful marker buoy was very sensibly made of huon pine and was of the type used to mark Hebe Reef and other hazards between 1835 and 1960.
And here we have a ship's bell with the oddly shaped station chart room behind it. The bell was used to rouse the crews to duty when needed. The associated plaque made note of the fact that it could be heard throughout the entire station.......not much use if it couldn't, I thought!
This facility remains a pilot station to this day, the oldest continually operating of its kind in the country (yet another 'oldest/first' for Tassie) and here we have the local boat ramp and basin,
which connects with the pilot transfer boat mooring, where we could see one of them lying alongside. The small memorial in the foreground commemorates the arrival of Bass and Flinders here on November 3 1798.
What an extraordinary place this was, one in which I could have spent much more time, but we still had more to see and, as it turned out, to hear.
We were off to the lighthouse, high on the hill ahead of us on Dotterel Point.
Thanks to 'northerntasmania' I can bring you this aerial shot of the light tower and the surrounding buildings which were home to the keepers before their efforts were overtaken by technology and automation.
From this vantage point we could see over the car park to the wide sandy Low Head beaches to the east,
look down on the rocky point which is home to the local penguin colony,
and further around to the west to the actual mouth of the Tamar
and upstream from there to George Town and the entrance to Bell Bay.
Grand as this scenery was, we had come primarily to see the light house. This is indeed an impressive structure. Apart from the tower itself, I would draw your attention to the innocuous looking little shed in front of it. This housed a real surprise.
This notice I found affixed to a wall of the shed alerted me to what was going on.....and now you will understand my earlier comment about the significance of the fact we made this visit on a Sunday.
And to their credit, notwithstanding the fact that it was Xmas Eve, a couple of the volunteer group showed up as advertised and set about firing up the engines of this grunting monster.
Whilst the notice proclaims this system to be one of a few remaining operation in the world, in fact the Low Head diaphone is the only 'G' type in existence anywhere which can still belt out a bellow (yet another one for Tasmania....the list just gets longer and longer!).
This amazing system was installed here in 1929 and sent its unique warning sound out over 30 kilometres into Bass Strait during times of heavy fog until 1973 when significant advances in navigational technology rendered its function unnecessary.
The machine which produced 'the magnificent roar of a thousand elephants' (as it has been described) lay idle until, in 2000-01, a group of local volunteers banded together, and, after tussling with red tape and the technical challenges of restoration, the Low Head Foghorn roared back into life.
Without wanting to bore you with too much technical data, I remain hopeful that this diagram will explain how this all works. In brief, the Gardner engine (now assisted by an electric motor) drives an air compressor which in turn forces air through the diaphone. All this is housed in the little shed in front of the light tower....hence my previous comment about its significance.
As the brochure I snaffled during our visit explained:
"The Diaphone consists of three parts; the outer casing and two sections making up the piston. The driving and external parts of the piston are machined with annualar slots and as the air passes through it is chopped 180 times per second to create the characteristic 'groan-grunt' sound".
This same document screams in large red letters....Hearing Protection is Advised.
And sure enough, on the dot of midday, I discovered that this was sound (sorry!) advice indeed. I'm not sure about a thousand elephants, but the seriously stentorian 'groan-grunt' produced by this incredible device was certainly loud enough to convince me that this could indeed be heard twenty nautical miles out to sea.
For the next twenty minutes (of which we were aware) three consecutive blasts echoed out over Low Head followed by 51 seconds of silence.
The elephant roar followed us down the road as we left but our day of discovery was not yet done with entirely.
As we made our way back towards Low Head township we passed the grounds
of this quaint looking turreted stone residence, which was interesting in itself,
but not nearly as much as the stone I discovered near the front fence, an original 'mile stone' which showed us we were a darn site closer to Low head than Hobart!
So on we went, past the first old lead light we had seen, where the modern retirement cottages opposite provided yet another typically Tasmanian example of 'the old and the new' side by side.
We detoured slightly off the highway on the way back to Rosevears to gain another perspective of the Batman Bridge
before crossing the Tamar beneath its distinctive cable support frame and wandering back to our digs.
More history and a horn with a difference indeed.......what a unique experience we had enjoyed, and by pure happenstance both from the point of view of the day of the week and the fact that Liz's ongoing affliction meant that we did not tarry on foot in George Town. As you may well imagine I was more than a little chuffed!
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