WE HEAD OUT WEST - THE LAKE GORDON - PEDDER SYSTEM - PART 1 (THE TRIP AND TED'S BEACH) (10 JANUARY 2018)

With Richmond now well and truly under our travelling belts, it was time to move on, but not far.  A mere 40 kms brought us back to New Norfolk for a three night stay. 

We were more than happy to return to what remains one of our favourite caravan parks on the island and a town in which we felt very comfortable. A re-supply at the large local Woollies was on the agenda, but there was a more compelling reason to bring us back.

Lake Pedder and the Gordon River dam are two 'must see' destinations in Tasmania, if time permits. For us, it did. 

Originally we had contemplated hauling the van out to this part of the western wilderness, but our trip to the Mount Field National Park during our December stay in New Norfolk had taught us that this was not a flawless plan. 

We were relatively undaunted by the road conditions, but this was one spot on the island where there is genuinely 'one road in and one road out'.....and it's the same one!  Given that the distance between New Norfolk and Strathgordon was 125 kms and the fact that the only caravan camping area we could use would have to be at Ted's Beach, a relatively unknown quantity for a van our our size, we decided that a day trip out of New Norfolk was the far better option. We were right.

But what a day trip it was and it was one which I've decided to bring to you in a couple of bites rather than one of Marshie's massive missives.

To our delight the chosen day dawned bright and sunny (I carefully did not say 'warm and sunny') and we headed out early past the familiar hop trellises of Bushy Park

and onto the B61 which would take us the remaining 100 kms or so to Strathgordon and beyond.

As this annoyingly fuzzy map (a product of enlargement) shows, we were heading out into a section of the great tract of Tassie which has been set aside as a wilderness area.

Lakes Pedder and Gordon lie to the south of centre of this huge untamed area and as is evident from this chart, combined, they form a vast expanse of water. I am sure many of you will remember the fuss and furor over the building of the Gordon Dam and the flooding of Lake Pedder, but more of that later. 

Once past the hop fields the road (I would hardly call this one a highway) took us through a short section of grazing land

before we hit the first of the forest country.













We were to see much more of this over the remaining 100 kms or so of the run to Lake Pedder, particularly as we made our way through the hilly sections of the run.

Mountain ranges and peaks in our windscreen became commonplace, and in typical Tassie style many, including Mount Meuller seen here, were capped with cloud.











Some 60 kms into the trip saw us pass through the small timber town of Maydena which is a tad larger than 'blink and you'll miss it', but only just.

From this point on the trees of the roadside forests thickened, the air became cooler and damper,














the tree ferns flourished,














and all the while the country was becoming more and more rugged.














Then, as so often happens on even quite short trips along Tasmanian highways and by-ways, the countryside changed quite dramatically, with the heavy timber clad hills giving way to more scrubby type bush. Rocky ridges in the distance were a constant,







none more stark and bleak than this outcrop.












The local authorities have obviously recognised the tourist potential of this view, and have very wisely provided a small pull-off parking area to allow folk like us to make the most of it. We took no convincing that we were now well and truly into 'wilderness' country.








This massive grey granite rampart lay just north of the southern reaches of Lake Pedder,  














and we found that we had little further to go through what was now quite stunted bush struggling along in white limestone country












before we got our first glimpse of the water,












a glimpse which was short-lived as we pushed further on towards today's first destination, Ted's Beach.





As happens constantly through this area, another bend brought another view. The waters of these lakes wind their way through many long, narrow valleys between the enclosing ridges. Here there is no such thing as an 'esplanade' or a lakeside drive. The engineers building this road took the least line of resistance, as would be expected, and that does not offer constant water views.






Ah, this is what we had been on the lookout for for the past 10 kms or so. Would we be happy with our decision to make this day trip out of New Norfolk rather than a few days here in the van?










As we made our way in along the short, startlingly white entrance road,










and on past the main camp ground area, we were beginning to feel more justified in our decision. Irrespective of the amenity here, which we soon discovered was good, this had the potential to be a real dust bowl. Every vehicle movement stirred swirls of fine white particles from the surface. 









Apart from the first camping site, visitors less encumbered can take advantage of sites closer to the edge of the lake,








and once we had parked at the far end of the large amenities block and done a wander, we soon found that those who make this their home for a while are pretty well catered for.











The spacious camp kitchen area came with plenty of bench tables and seats, and there were a couple of quite adequate looking BBQ's for those who had no independent means of cooking. Fresh water was also on hand, or should I say 'on tap'!







The ablution side of things seemed equally adequate and we had no doubt that for those well set up, and immune to the travails of dust, there would be far worse places to spend some holiday time, particularly if keen on kayaking, swimming (and not bothered by the chill) or fishing.









A large information board near the camp kitchen showed us just where we were in the local scheme of things, at the northern most end of Lake Pedder. 



















This same board also provided some useful background information about the lake and a clear invitation to those with floating craft of any kind to get out amongst the trout.












Even with the slightly chilly morning breeze rippling the waters, this was a very inviting spot, but the use of the word 'beach' seemed to us to be a bit of a stretch.













Here at Lake Pedder, there was not a fine yellow grain of sand to be seen. Stark, white quartzite rubble, with stones of of varying sizes, was what lined the water's edge here at Ted's Beach. 




But as we were shortly to discover, here in this wilderness, folk were quick to make the most of what was available to them, and be grateful for it. Ted Hofto was at the forefront, and he was clearly a man of vision and no little organizational ability. This plaque told the story.

So now at least we knew why this area was so named, and we could but silently applaud this long time local and salute his enterprise, even if this was not a place for us for other than a quick visit.





But we did make the most of it whilst here. We popped back after our visit to nearby Strathgordon and the breathtaking Gordon dam for a picnic lunch with a view.








And this was undoubtedly an area for views. What a stunning spectacle the Gordon dam presented. Stay tuned.

'SAINTS AND SINNERS' - RICHMOND - PART 4 (THREE CHURCHES AND A GAOL- AND MORE) (8 JANUARY 2018)

Another Tasmanian building lays claim to being The Oldest in the Country. But is this entirely true? We think not, but before I go into that detail, we had better go and have a look at this indisputably aged building.

As we have noted all over Australia, the early settlers of the Catholic faith invariably managed to collar the high ground when it came to building their places of worship. Richmond was no exception.

The spire of St John's Catholic Church here in Richmond can be seen from most points in the town, and certainly from the bridge as I looked upstream.

We wandered down to the Coal River park and sauntered along the aptly named St Johns Crescent which brought us to the rise and this famous church which dominates the hilltop.

Described as typical of the rectangular 'Gothic box' design made popular by the 19th Century English architect Henry Goodridge, it has to be said that St John's of Richmond, if not for its age, would probably attract little formal attention. 

One of the early settlers in Richmond (and one of the few Catholics in the colony to acquire large land holdings), the redoubtable John Cassidy, donated a generous parcel of land in the south-eastern corner of his Coal River farm 'Woodburn' on which to build the church.

Bishop John Polding, who was visiting Van Diemen's Land in 1835 en route to his posting in Sydney, blessed the foundation stone for the new church and in doing so performed the first formal act of an Australian Catholic Bishop in the country. 

The church itself opened its doors to the faithful on 31 December 1835 but what we see to day is not quite what greeted the locals as they trudged up the hill to save their souls. The spire atop the front stone turret is in its third incarnation (for various reasons) and is now much lower than the original.

Now to the controversy, albeit a minor one. The claims made that this is the oldest Catholic Church in the country remains in some dispute. 

The Foundation stone of St Mary's Cathedral in Sydney was laid in 1821, but the original chapel was later destroyed by fire so the claims of senior antiquity made for St John's in Richmond should probably more accurately be stated as being 'the oldest remaining Catholic church in Australia'. Irrespective of semantics it is indisputably the oldest continuously operational church of Rome in the country.





I did take a quick peek inside to find the interior a little disappointingly dark and drab, but then, to be fair, having seen the colourful splendour of the inside walls of the church in Bell, Qld, nothing else will ever quite compare favourably for us.

Typical of the development of these precincts, the restored original Catholic school house and the final resting places of many who worshipped here are not far from the church doors.










Views over the Coal River valley are on offer from various points around the church grounds, but I have confined my snapping to just one, this substantial red brick (unusual in itself in Richmond) home at the end of St Johns Crescent. 









Now I grant you at first I found nothing ostensibly special about this house, but then I saw its name, one which I just could not fathom from any point of view.....and not a horse, long horned steer or cowboy in sight!








So with what is probably Richmond's second or third most visited landmark under our  belts, we once again meandered past 'Cyril's park' 










and into the main lower section of Bridge Street where the proprietor of yet another Richmond business, the Peppercorn Gallery, was setting up for the day in his little white-washed cottage.










We were making for the Richmond Gaol, and to do so turned off Bridge Street to head across the largest open space in the centre of town, unsurprisingly known as the Village Green, past the rear of the various sections of the Council Chambers building








and this quaint little resorted cottage which stood in splendid isolation in the middle of the green.  











Just why 'Just Kidding', a children's toy and craft shop, enjoys such solitude remains a mystery (I should have checked) but it was certainly a fine example of the type of home inhabited by the less affluent of Richmond's original settlers.

A short distance beyond this point the yellow sign on the fence confirmed we were on track, and indeed the stone walls ahead of us did belong to the Richmond Gaol.

This was the best photo I could manage of this, the oldest intact gaol in Australia (yet another 'oldest' in Richmond).














Set as it is amongst the large trees of the surrounding 'historic site', a clearer view was impossible.








Mind you, this is not a spectacular prison building in its own right, compared to, for example, the sprawling convict complex of Port Arthur, but it remains a symbol of a significant form of social order which was imposed on the developing colony by Governor Arthur, and given that it was built in several stages over the years 1825-27, it predates the penal colony he established at the foot of the Tasman Peninsula by at least five years.






Governor George Arthur was something of an enigma. He has been described as ambitious, strictly religious, thorough and severe. At only forty when appointed, he was the ideal man to carry out the British Government's plan to make Van Diemen's Land a feared penal colony. Yet this same man had previously railed against slavery (when Governor of Honduras) and was keen to institute positive social reforms.






In Van Diemen's Land he even went as far as posting this quite extraordinary cartoon placard throughout the colony to promote the concept of equal treatment of all inhabitants, something later seen as being at odds with his subsequent (mis) management of the island's aboriginal population.

He was a brilliant administrator, and when his new fiefdom was formally separated from New South Wales shortly after his arrival on the island in 1824, and it was recognised that social order was a little sloppy to say the least, he set about meeting the demands of his political masters in the Old Dart (that the convicts be the subject of stricter surveillance and discipline) with a will.

Arthur created a highly centralised police state to ensure ‘the most minute attention and incessant watchfulness of the conduct of every convict’. Lay ‘gentleman’ magistrates who had previously dispensed justice were replaced by stipendiary magistrates under the control of the Chief Police Magistrate in Hobart. 

A largely convict police force enforced the laws on the ground although unsurprisingly graft and corruption flourished amongst this group (and this was not even New South Wales!)

Convicts were transported to the colony as an indentured workforce to build both public infrastructure and private wealth. They were disciplined through severe punishments such as floggings, solitary confinement and hard labour in chain gangs but offered remission of sentences for good behaviour and moral reform. 

Within this system of convict reward and punishment, the latter far outweighed the former.  During Arthur's time, in addition to the physical punishment, over two hundred and fifty prisoners were executed, and with what would seem to us these days to be acts of breathless barbarity, some of the bodies were left hanging on the gibbet for months. 

Despite all, under Arthur order was restored to the colony and the growing bushranger and aboriginal problems reined in (that's an interesting story in itself) but for all this he became, and remained, spectacularly unpopular. 

Arthur's concept of leadership was simple....it was his way or nothing. He was ultra-sensitive to any criticism, and combining that with his autocratic manner and authoritarian rule he managed to alienate himself from just about everyone who mattered. The plebs despised him. 

He compounded his unpopularity by enriching himself grandly though canny land dealings and a personal parsimony, and by the time his mounting unpopularity forced his recall, he was one of the wealthiest men in the colony.

As has been noted (fairly) in the promotional blurb:

"Today, the village of Richmond offers visitors an unsurpassed insight into [Arthur's] system with the courthouse, gaol, church, bridge and sandstone mansions reflecting the intertwined elements of justice, punishment, salvation and public and private labour all intact within the village precincts."

For a relatively modest entrance fee, visitors to Richmond are invited to wander through the gaol reading about the lives of many who were incarcerated here.  I knew jolly well that had we ventured inside I probably would have spent the best part of the rest of the day here, and we had much else to do in our limited time. Liz had more shops to visit!




Although we did not go inside the gaol, I found a couple of fascinating information stands nearby. This 1843 painting of developing Richmond shows the gaol building in the distance with the flour mill behind it, 










but I was much more interested in the photo of this document. This is the 'Ticket of Leave' issued to convict Richard Mills on 3 December 1838, his 'passport' to temporary freedom. I had oft heard this term used before, but never until now clapped eyes on an example of the real thing.




Let me conclude this rather too lengthy dollop of Tassie history (at least I know it will interest you KG!) with a somewhat whimsical personal observation.

As we left the Richmond Gaol historical site and the nearby spread of the Village Green it did strike me as somewhat ironic that this place of confinement was located in one of the largest open spaces in the central town area.

We were now off to see the second of Richmond's large churches, and as we strolled up Edwards Street, another two imposing and closely related buildings filled our view.











The 'Old Rectory' (circa 1831) presented yet another example of the comparative grandeur in which those responsible for spreading and maintaining the faith in the colony were housed.





In fact other occupants of this imposing house give us an insight as to where men of the cloth fitted into the local social pecking order of the day. Apart from being the Anglican rectory of over sixty years, this building was home to several police magistrates (men of real power under Arthur's regime) and a number of local doctors.




For the rector, it was but a short step up the road to reach his 'office', St Luke's Anglican Church, a building completed in 1835 and dominated, as can be seen, by its imposing clock tower (although the clock itself, which came from the old St David's Cathedral in Hobart, was not installed here until 1922). 

This tower certainly does make a statement.....solid, powerful, immovable, even if the body of the church has limited architectural or aesthetic appeal (author's comment!)

And as my old friend Geoff Richie has noted, "[this] same square, stern, massive building has watched the convicts march past in their clanking irons, has kept guard over the busy township in the days of its prosperous activity, and today stands sentinel over the quiet village that Richmond has now become."





Much more light and airy than its Catholic counterpart, the interior of St Luke's features a magnificent stained glass window over the pulpit and a very, very solid timber ceiling. one which had a real significance for its builder. 




In what was a classic example of Governor Arthur's penal system of 'reward for effort', James Thompson, the convict who was responsible for the original timber work inside the building, was granted his freedom as a reward for his efforts.


Information about this church notes that the construction of the pews made them hard and uncomfortable (I always thought this was a prerequisiste to prevent snoozing through the sermon), but at least here at St Luke's these colourful cushions provided evidence of commendable consideration for congregational comfort. No numb bums here no matter how interminable the droning from the pulpit!







Similarly to its Catholic counterpart, a hilltop was chosen for the site of this church, and from here we could see down to the river valley, not too far from the spot where the coal was discovered here. 







After all this history stuff, Liz was in need of some retail therapy, or at least exposure to some, and we re-traced our steps back to the centre of town, where, as we were sashaying along Forth Street, I was the one to be presented with the first treat of a most unexpected kind.

Now I'm not a genuine rev head, far from it, but I do recognise mechanical excellence when I see it, and it does not come much better than this......a 70's Aston Martin Lagonda no less!










The owner had driven this beautiful and very sprightly vehicle from Victoria and was more than happy to discuss and display. James Bond lives on (and he could probably manage the $150 thousand or so price tag)!











Liz was far less impressed, and marched on resolutely past the stone walls of the rear of the old Court House 












opposite which was an area of much more interest to her. She has become loath of late to snipe too much at me for my ability to navigate by pubs......she does the same.....by bakeries! 

This area of the Richmond CBD is tourist central where a congregation of various shops provides all manner of goodies for immediate consumption, 















or to take home as a reminder of the visit (whether it was really needed or not!)












While Liz lined up in the bakery, I had my sights set on a building offering succour of a very different nature. The 'Tasting House' here in Richmond was yet another in the string of single malt outlets to be found all over the island, 











in this case specialising in the Hellyers Road product, but typically it came at a cost. 













The critical word on this notice was 'from'. A decent trawl through the range of 'singles' behind the counter of this outwardly enticing enterprise could well leave the determined tippler at least $50 poorer. I did not join their ranks. I had already tried Hellyers Road and whilst I would not turn away an offering from this outfit on a cold night, the couple which had passed my lips were far from my favourites.




So we marched on yet again, me completely unaffected by alcohol and my travelling companion strangely empty handed. "Well, the vanilla squares just didn't look quite right", was her response to my quizzical query.

Several alleyways in this area behind Bridge Street 









bring visitors to more nooks and crannies, all of which were arrayed with seats, tables and shade brollies strewn around patches of lawn in the obvious hope that those wandering through would decided it was time to tarry with coffee and cake or some other delectable morsel sought and bought from a nearby vendor.









We remained stubbornly immune to this seduction, but Herself was off again. The invitation to stop for coffee had no appeal, 












but the back entrance to the nearby Richmond sweets shop certainly did, and on this occasion she did not browse alone.








What an extraordinary establishment this was. We had seen nothing remotely like it since our trip to Geeveston back in November. But the sweets shop in Richmond trumped that in spades.

Shelves were packed with jars, bottles, packages and wraps.....all containing sweet temptations in a myriad of variations on the use of sugar.










There was even provision for the weary to sit and savour on this oddest of seats. Can there be any doubt that a good old fashioned lolly shop (there was much here I'd not seen since childhood.....no further comment necessary!) is an absolute hallmark of a Tassie tourist town?



Again, and remarkably, we slipped unsullied past the seductive sugary siren songs of these shelves and repaired back to the Cruiser parked further along Bridge Street. 


And thus it was, en route, that we came to the last of the Richmond old churches, the much more modest edifice which had housed those of the Congregational persuasion back in the days of yore. From the street I almost missed it, partially hidden as it is behind these spreading branches, but I knew it was hereabouts and was on the lookout.






Even from the side angle I could not capture all of this charming little church, which unlike its two much larger counterparts is no longer a place of worship.













What was once an alter of the Almighty is now another mansion of Mammon. 







And that, dear readers, brings to an end our take on Richmond, with but one last outlying offering of the quaintest kind, which we came across entirely by accident.

En route into town the previous day we had spotted a sign advertising local apricots. This was not a fruit we had previously associated with Tasmania, but the few we had sampled from a roadside stall whilst in Margate were of superior quality, and I knew from the chat I had with the vendor that they had been grown in the Coal River Valley. And guess where we were now! 





So off we went, a couple of kilometres back out on the A351 until the Prosser Road turn-off beckoned and we duly arrived at our destination, the old Woodburn Farm (you may recall it was the original owner of this land who donated the plot for St John's Catholic church). As the gate sign proclaimed, this land is now home to Hatchers Manor, and what a place this turned out to be!













Additional and rather rustic entrance signs confirmed we were still on the right track,













and we duly continued on down the roughly cobbled driveway













past an apricot orchard area which was uninspiringly unkempt.













And there is was, Hatchers Manor. This is surely a picture which needs no further embellishment.












With growing amazement we pushed on to find a car parking area not far from these buildings beyond the 'main manor',













and toddled off on foot towards what we had by now determined was the shop outlet,











where the scones, jam and cream and hot drinks which were advertised at the gate 











were being enjoyed by a few in this outdoor verandah area.













We found the entrance and marched on inside on our quest for fruit only to find ourselves in the oddest fresh fruit outlet we had ever entered.












We soon discovered that the offerings of apricots (you can just see a few on the counter at the bottom of this shot) were secondary to all else which goes on here. This building was home to not only this 'olde worlde' dining room,








but led through to another of grand proportions where the furnishing, stage and dance floor all screamed 'wedding reception'.









As so it was, as we were later told by the 'interesting' proprietor, who obviously considered that we were more than privileged to be his customers. Given that there were only a dozen or so apricots left for sale, a few of which were of highly doubtful quality, we found this more than odd, but at least we did depart with a small sample of the orchard which were, as it transpired, an overpriced disappointment.

I was fascinated to learn that this quaintest of places still functions as a motel with a good restaurant. It seems to be quite popular, albeit, as some have noted, a little shabby and dated. 

Irrespective of anything else, Hatchers Manor does have one thing going for it.....location!

So, with this final view of Richmond from the Hatchers Manor hillside, we say farewell to what I think can lay a justifiable claim to being Tasmania's most intact historic town. Campbell Town, Ross and Oatlands are all well accredited challengers, and I am happy to admit here that I preferred Ross (which I'll share with you in due course) but with its two significant churches, courthouse and gaol, Richmond certainly does provide a real insight into life as it was in early Van Diemen's Land.

Tomorrow we begin our venture to the West Coast.