AND NOW FOR THE REST - DUNALLEY - PART 3 (THE TOWN) (5 -6 JANUARY 2018)

I have to confess that my normally inquisitive scan of relevant material prior to visiting a new spot on the map let me down badly when it came to Dunalley. Frankly we had just been too busy during our brief return to Hobart. 

I say that because the Denison Canal, an obvious highlight of this small town, came as a real surprise. But we have done that to death now, so it is time for a quick jaunt through the town itself.

Quick is the optimum word. Dunalley, for all it offers, is not large. A census of a few years ago put its population at just over 300. I suspect that there may have been a slight increase since then, despite the fires, but this town certainly deserves the title of resilient.

'Discover Tasmania' describes Dunalley as:

"a quiet fishing village known for its super-fresh seafood. Located on the way to Port Arthur near a narrow strip of land that connects the Forestier and Tasman Peninsulas with the rest of Tasmania, Dunalley is peaceful and pretty with beautiful bay-side scenery".

"The town is usually nothing more than a brief stopping place en route to Port Arthur. The primary attractions are a good cafe beside the water, the Tasman monument and a large, gracious pub", says 'Aussie Towns'.

Our walk along the Arthur Highway to the monument and back confirmed what these two informative sites had posted.

Once we were done with the Fish Market, we retraced our steps back past the highway junction at the swing bridge and moseyed on north-east along the main drag, the Arthur Highway.

Here we first came 

to one of the two town petrol outlets

where the small board at the entrance was something we had seen before.....at the Fish Market oddly enough! I'm not sure whether or not this was a tourist hook baited more widely than usual during the holiday period, but I can tell you that there was no shortage of Crayfish Rolls in Dunalley during our visit! 

From this point on the main road the prominence of the pub was obvious.

Nearby was the Visitor Information Centre (actually nothing more than a shed, but a very good shed at that), 










public loos, and a town feature I meant to include in our canal walk section (but forgot because my photos were all over the place!)

So I shall remedy that oversight by figuratively crossing the road to the point where the canal walkway emerges to bring you another of the town's recognized 'tourist attractions', this statue of the largest of the Australian raptors, a Wedgetail eagle.

And here is what this is all about. 

A bit esoteric I thought, given that the 'wedgie' is not a bird of real local prominence, but, hey, from what we saw, the statue is doing the job of attracting the tourists. I had to wait for quite some minutes before a gaudily garbed and garrulous gaggle of overseas visitors broke from their determined huddle around the base of the bird to allow me a clear shot.





With that oversight now remedied, back to the business at hand. As we meandered on towards the new town bakery, we first passed this odd looking hut right on the edge of the footpath. A closer look revealed that this is a very important town building. 

The sign above the windows announced this as the office of the 'Superintendent - Denison Canal'. As I later discovered, the chap who inhabits this small office (and lives in the house immediately behind it) plays a critical role in town life, or more to the point, the lives of those like us who want to travel through it (on land or sea).

Apart from being the canal boss, this fine fellow is the chap who swings the bridge. And herein lies a story of 'nothing ventured, nothing gained'. Later in the day I strolled back here and introduced myself with the aim of finding out more about how the bridge worked.

Well, not only was the worthy superintendent more than happy to chat, as we were doing so his phone rang.  In a manner remarkably similar to that which operates on the River Murray lock system, those wishing to transit the Denison Canal ring my newly found friend and advise of their ETA. 

He then jumps in his tray top truck, toddles down the road (not far, as you can see....the green highway sign indicates the turn) and duly closes the road and opens the bridge for the vessel in transit.

And guess what....after receiving the phone call during my visit, he invited me to join him. I won't bore you with all the details, other than to say I'll bet there are not too many visitors to Dunalley who have actually operated the swing bridge.....!  








But back to our gallop. Just beyond the canal office the obviously rebuilt town bakery and take-away shop beckoned.

It was still relatively early in the day, but business was brisk. Liz lined up....she just cannot help herself when it comes to bakeries. She is a pedestrian version of those lycra loonies who ride for ten minutes and then sit around a pastry shop and undo all the good work with pies, pasties and cream buns for the next hour or so. On this occasion it was a vanilla square....of modest quality I was told.

In a thoughtfully strategic location, another community recovery project, these picnic tables, shelter shed and BBQ, were located almost opposite the take-away tucker shops. A place of a double reward...a tasty lunch and a fine view over the canal.

As we wandered further out along the Arthur Highway,













yet another example of the fickle nature of the bushfires struck us. On this block an old timber home had obviously been spared destruction, 












whilst almost next door, was the evidence that what had preceded this new home had not fared as well.

We knew that the Police Station had been rebuilt, so this modern office and officer's residence behind it came as no surprise. What did strike me, however, was that this was one of the only small Police Station buildings we had come across which was not a boringly stolid building made of red brick. What is that old saying about an 'ill wind'....? 




By now the last of the 'main drag' infrastructure was in sight, the town service station, where, as we had come to expect in towns of this size in Tassie,













this was more than merely a place to 'fill her up'....but where was the 'cray rolls' sign? It seemed that here one could buy just about everything else!










At this point we turned off the highway and made our way down towards the water. She may not have thought it the best vanilla square she had ever eaten, but it obviously did the trick as far as fuel value was concerned....Liz was off at a very goodly clip, 'pretty in pink' as usual!










As we hoofed along, this scene presented yet another reminder of Dunalley's recent past........a survivor and a newbie.









It was not too far from there that we came across this large, modern building, the newly built Dunalley Community hall, 












an impressive structure by any standards and another which was funded by the post fires community development funds. 




I was interested to read a local newspaper article in which one of the local luminaries had been quoted as saying that any town like Dunalley needs at least four things....a Police Station, a Post Office, a pub and a community hall. Well, that box has been ticked!





The Dunalley War memorial has been incorporated into the design of this new hall and located in an interesting courtyard at the front of the building.







We learnt from the locals that Dunalley has always had a strong sense of community, and that the hall was one of the most welcome of all the recovery projects. Like its predecessor, it is apparently very well used. I suspect that it is this very sense of belonging which has prompted so many to remain and rebuild,

but the scars still remain even after these past five years. From the site of the hall we could look out over this part of the town where the homes new and old are still overlooked by hillside slopes











which are clearly still yet not completely green.







On we pushed, past two more survivors as some of the boats bobbing in Blackman Bay at the eastern end of the canal hove into view.













The advertising board, the large building and the parked cars all told us that we had reached our target destination......the Dunalley Waterfront Cafe and Gallery,








where I was amused to find this instructive sign. Don't  bother darkening these doors on Tuesdays! Is there such a thing as tautology when it comes to signage? 














Today was clearly not a Tuesday, and the rich and famous, well rich at least, were on the move and touring the peninsulas (number plate discretion assured!).








Before I went in to see if this joint lived up to the considerable hype it enjoys, I was more interested in what interests me much more.....the boats and the jetty.






So I was off down the little gravel road in front of the cafe, where the short Dunalley fishing fleet jetty came into view. It was crammed with moored vessels












with even more lying peacefully at anchor in the calm waters of Blackman Bay.









The road down to the jetty took me past the rear deck of the cafe where those dining alfresco under the shade sails here 

would almost be able to look along the length of this relatively short pier alongside which were fishing vessels of all descriptions.











ranging from this serious deep sea boat













to much more modest craft which were fit for purpose nevertheless.











One very modern looking cray boat was high and dry on the slip where a tangle of sheds and huts lined up below the roadway.

From the seaward end of the jetty I could look back at the homes along the shore, where like the rest of the town, most were new and where the hills behind them still bore the scars.







I wandered back past the old fishing co-op building at the shore end of this working pier












and poked my nose inside the waterfront cafe. Beyond the entrance this place lived up to the 'gallery' part of its title. The work of local artists graced the walls, and the table near the door was cluttered with various bowls, plates and ornamental objects, all for sale of course.









As were the jars of local produce which lined these shelves, and, what's a tourist type shop without a stand of postcards?











The dining area at the top of the short staircase was packed with holiday revellers all tucking into various dishes, many of which came at a price I could best describe as being at the 'higher end'. The pub presented much better value.





So feeling a little smug about our choice of venue for our one meal out (we had actively considered coming down her to dine) we pushed on to the last item on our 'must see' list. From the front door of the cafe it was in sight.
  





Here at the end of Imlay Street stands a memorial to the feats of one Abel Jansz Tasman, the first European to set foot on Tasmanian soil.

The inscription on the bronze map of the Island said it all. Sixteen forty two does seem such along time ago.....and what might we be now if the Dutch had persisted with the territorial claim they made not too far from this very spot?  The vagaries of the history of discovery continue to fascinate me.

Well, dear readers, I trust you have enjoyed our traipse around this resilient little town, one which has survived so much and one where its grand old pub looks down over one of the more extraordinary feats of engineering, not just in Tasmania, but Australia. As you may have guessed by now, we would be leaving Dunalley with fond memories.