The more observant amongst you will note that the there has been a jump in time....from 21 February to the 26th. The more cynical will suspect I'm trying to make up time! Not quite, although it does have that secondary advantage.
The fact of the matter is that from Mole Creek we toddled off to Longford for a few days. We used this as a base to participate in the Penny-Farthing festival at nearby Evandale. I have already brought this to you in the composite blog of that town what now seems like eons ago.
Longford itself makes rather grand claims about its history, buildings and so on. Frankly, it didn't stack up for us in that regard. Nearby Woolmers Estate and Evandale leave it in the shade. So, as they say in the classics.....'moving right along'!
As the title of this missive suggests, we were en route to the East Coast, but our earlier fleeting visit to Ross whilst staying at nearby Campbell Town had left us with the strong desire to spend more time in this charming historical village. We had also worked out that we could very conveniently use this as a base for a day trip up to Poatina, Miena, the Great Lake and back through Bothwell. This was all coming together nicely.
As my old friend Google Earth reveals, today's trip of just under 70 kms south down the Midlands Highway from Longford to Ross did not present a taxing prospect. We had travelled this road before and knew full well that in Tassie touring terms we were in for a treat....no hills to speak of and a good highway.
The relatively short distances between places of real interest is one of the great touring boons of Tasmania. We set off at what was for us a 'gentleman's hour' and in no time at all found ourselves cruising into the familiar outskirts of Campbell Town,
down its main street,
and across the Red Bridge which you know all about. And whilst on the subject of bridges, the 'big three' in this area of Tasmania are here, at Richmond and at Ross (I'm sure I've mentioned this before). We were about to complete the trifecta!
Unlike Campbell Town, Ross does not sit astride the main highway. This in itself lends to its quiet charm, something which is difficult to achieve when a constant flow of traffic, including large trucks, continually thunders through the heart of the community.
Even the road off the A1 into Ross is inviting. If you are beginning to suspect that this remains one of my favourite Tasmanian towns, you can rightly claim a prize! I was more than happy to be making our way down this tree lined country avenue.
The centre of Ross itself is equally arboreal,
but for the moment we had to make a right turn just before we entered the heart of the village
and drive on down the 'no through road' which was to end at the Ross Caravan Park.
Here, as the road curved around to the left, we came across another of what I had now recognised as a quirk of Tasmanian road nomenclature......just about any thoroughfare at all which runs by water of any description is deemed to be an 'Esplanade'.
Well, at least there was water, in this case a rather narrow stretch of the Macquarie River (which, coincidentally, we had also camped by in Longford)
The Ross Caravan Park is managed by the good folk (and indeed they were) who run the almost abutting motel. We duly halted as instructed
whilst Liz popped into the motel office and announced our arrival, paid our dues and received site directions.
Another 100 metres of 'Esplanade' touring brought us to the park entrance.
After veering right around the ablution block ahead of us,
we settled onto a wonderfully large site right next to the river, where, although it was a tad sparse, we did have grassy surrounds and absolutely oodles of elbow room.
the one immediate neighbour we acquired for our entire stay turned out to be a retired NSW police Sergeant......we got on famously.
With views over the river to our rear
and, in front of us, across the old stone boundary wall of the park to the magnificent church in the background through the trees, what could possibly be not to like about this spot?
Sadly, one thing....a completely unexplained and rather challenging sewerage type smell which, despite all the efforts of the very concerned manager, continued to waft over us periodically during certain wind conditions throughout our stay. We all reached the conclusion it may have had something to do with the large tank behind us, but the mystery remained unsolved.
Mind you, this was but a small and spasmodic price to pay for the fact that we had our corner of the park almost to ourselves, unlike the remainder of it which was pretty busy.
And I have to comment too that not all the views from our van were as inviting as the local scenery, charming old stone walls and grand old churches. It may come as no surprise to hear that I did not make any effort to discover just what 'Bitch Dust' actually is!!
And I have to comment too that not all the views from our van were as inviting as the local scenery, charming old stone walls and grand old churches. It may come as no surprise to hear that I did not make any effort to discover just what 'Bitch Dust' actually is!!
The ablution block, in which all worked as it should, was right in the middle of the camp, and from this angle it looked as functional as it was,
but from the other side, clever efforts had been taken to give the building the appearance of an old cottage, complete with window shutters.
The 'Ye Olde' world style was maintained in the building at the park entrance which housed the several park 'cabins'. Here the doorways to each room faced out from a wall where the rough stone had been dressed and whitewashed.
Nearby the camp kitchen stood beside the remnants of one of the original stone walls which had been built on this site. I never actually discovered what had been here initially, but the retention of these remains gave the whole place a lovely touch, one completely consistent with the tenor of the town.
The facilities here were adequate and although the majority of the cooking and preparation area was a little exposed, the enclosed wall at the end of the kitchen provided a cosy nook, a spot which was well used during our stay by others in the camp.
Despite the occasional olfactory assaults, we could not have been happier here, and so was Max who would go on patrol at the drop of a hat.
With no passing diesel motors to upset his equilibrium, a dearth of dogs and his own little patch of the park, the Black Panther reveled in his ability to stalk and sniff his way along the river bank bushes to his heart's content. 'Happy cat, happy crew'!
In my next we'll get out and about to explore this small but delightful town, one which did live up to the expectations we had acquired as the result of our previous quick visit.
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