A VERY SHORT TRIP - FROM THE PUB TO THE CARAVAN PARK - MOLE CREEK - PART 2 (THE PARK) (19 - 22 FEBRUARY 2018)

Our research had told us that Mole Creek would be a good central spot from which to sortie off to see a number of interesting Tassie attractions, including the quite incredible murals of Sheffield, the natural beauty of the nearby Mole Creek caves and Alum Cliffs and the potential wonders of another waterfall, this time the Liffey Falls (given 'the dry' I was a tad sceptical about this prospect).

Apart from all this, Mole Creek had been high on Liz's bucket list for ages (still no logical reason for this!). The pub had not disappointed. Would the formal park provide the same amenity?

It was time to find out, and that did not take long, no more than five minutes in fact, as we drove out of the pub park and the short three kilometre hop down the road to the front entrance of what appeared to be a decidedly rustic park.

The entrance road took us past this old slab and shingle hut at the front of the park which was being used as accommodation by a couple of backpackers.

Given that they were ensconced in the room at the end of the hall, I was able to politely have a look at the interior which gave a grand insight into the construction methods used. The round wall feature near the door told me that this had been 'Walter's Lodge'. 

I recall that the accompanying hand written script across the plaque presented the story of Walter and his lodge, and I duly photographed this in close-up for future reference. Right...where is it? Sadly, and I have to say this is the only occasion on which this has occurred in all our travels, some of my Mole Creek photos have been lost in the process of saving them to an independent hard drive. Annoyingly this was one of them, so I'm afraid I can tell you no more about good old Mole Creek Walter other than that he built a fine lodge!

Moving right along, we made our way into the park proper and pulled up at the office which also doubled as the cottage of the redoubtable lady who owned and ran this place solo. Mine host Jill was a real trooper...practical, cheerful and most helpful.

Given her situation, she was not shy about asking for help when it was needed, and I was more than happy to fire up her ageing 4W Drive with jumper leads when she found that the battery she suspected was ailing had actually died.

Our initial impressions were correct. There was nothing flash about the Mole Creek Caravan Park, but we would both return in a instant. What a charming spot this was.

Our allotted site, conveniently just in front of the camp kitchen, was more than large enough for our bulky rig, with the pine trees behind us providing some welcome afternoon shade.

The grass was a little crunchy (at least there was some cover), but we had come to expect that by now given the dry summer, and our good old C-Gear flooring soon took care of that. As this shot shows, we were not only close to the BBQ area, but also to the small, green amenities block.

brightened up by some surprisingly thriving roses. This was another of the Tasmanian parks in which showers were not only timed, but required a separate payment, in this case 60 cents for five minutes. This practice still rankled a little, but compared to the charges at Huonville, for example, these were more than modest, and at least the showers provided a good hot stream.

  

Beyond our patch the short park roadway provided access to the quite limited number of sites here, 

some of which allowed those lucky enough to acquire one, the pleasure of camping right on top of the delightful little brook which meandered along the eastern boundary of the park. 

We were too big to fit on any of these, but nothing was far from anything here, including the provision of power and water for some of those opposite (these were normally unpowered), sourced from the post next to us and protected by this improvised 'speed hump'. As I said earlier, Jill gets on with things!

And when I say right on the stream, that's exactly what I meant!

Bench seats and tables were dotted along the banks, and even although it could possibly be said that these went with a particular site, no-one here took a jot of notice of normal conventions. It was open slather for a seat by the stream and local custom had it that there were to be no objections (and there weren't...well at least during our stay),

and we enjoyed more than one happy hour with fellow campers on clear sunny afternoons.












The views from all parts of the park reminded us that we were in the countryside. In one direction Mount Roland rose majestically over the grazing paddocks,











whilst a small clutch of local homes could be seen beyond the end of the one park cabin in another.












The camp kitchen was small, 













but more than adequately equipped  















for most cooking and food storage requirements.













I made full use of the basic but excellent BBQ on more than one occasion.

Notwithstanding all else here, the highlight had to be the stream.














The crystal clear waters of this shallow book ran the entire length of the park under the canopy of overhanging trees, 











and whilst we did not see the elusive platypus in this section, there was no shortage of brown trout lazing about, although with their colours merging so well against the rocks of the creek bed, one had to concentrate to see them, particularly when they were not moving.






But they could not elude a dedicated 'shutter bug' for ever and after some misses, I finally managed to focus on this fine specimen as it emerged from cover.













In case we needed reminding we were 'in the country', the park chook would peck its way past our van most afternoons,












strutting and clucking, hoovering up minute morsels which only it could see.








Handsome as this hen was, she was completely outgunned in the ornithological stakes by a one-off visitor to the wood heap behind our site. This juvenile Peregrine falcon posed just long enough to enable me to sneak up for a photo opportunity,









until it became a bit bashful and soon took to the air. What an incredible sighting this was. I could not believe my luck in being able to get so close before it decided it had had enough of this close encounter. The descriptors provided by our reference book of 'powerfully built, deep chested, and with long talons' were more than apt. This was the first of these birds we had seen (and remains the only one to date).








To Liz's delight Mole Creek lived up to all she had hoped for it, including its quaint and completely appropriate caravan park. Anything glitzy in this part of Tasmania would be utterly out of place. As we had planned, it provided an ideal base for our adventures in the surrounding countryside.