It was time to stretch our legs, well figuratively speaking that is. As I mentioned at the outset of this group of missives, we had decided to use Ross as a base to tour part of the Great Western Tiers and the lake country.
This had been something of a toss-up. Miena, one of the towns on today's touring schedule also features on our Tassie Pub Crawl list. We had been tempted until I took a closer look at the route there and back....it looked somewhat daunting, even by Tasmanian standards and we were less than impressed with what we were able to discover about the hotel which would have been our destination.
So, for once, we squibbed it! What a good decision this proved to be.
Here is our proposed route for this day trip. I do love playing with my new found toy, the marking pen which I can superimpose over maps, albeit usually very shakily (with acknowledgement to 'Tour of Tasmania' for the raw product)!
This was to be a pretty solid day. We were out along the charming tree lined exit road from Ross to the highway bright and early,
a road which took us past yet another group of the old stone farm buildings which are common on this part of the Island.
We had barely struck the Midland Highway before it was time to turn off and head north-west along the C522 which took us through the flat farming country of the lowlands, much of which was being irrigated with massive overhead sprays.
This was definitely sheep country, as is much of the Midlands area. Paddock after paddock were dotted with them, all heads down chewing away on the green pick which had been produced by the watering systems.
Thousands of sheep and hedgerows....how Tasmanian!
The ramparts of the Great Western Tiers were hazy in the distance under the grey sheet of cloud which hovered above the heights. It was a little disappointing that the day had not dawned clearer, but when touring on a schedule 'them's the breaks'!
The flat, grazing country soon gave way to the approaches to the mountains,
where the far off ridges
and peaks seemed to tenaciously cling to their cloud cover even as the skies around them cleared a little.
Some 70 kms or so into our trip and with some serious climbing behind us, the little mountain town of Poatina came into view (and more sheep!).
After another steep haul up the mountain road we found ourselves at the turnoff to this extraordinary town.
Poatina is really a town of two histories. The nearby penstock and huge power transmission towers gave a clue to its origins but no hint of what it has now become.
In brief, after building the town in 1958 to house the work force involved in the construction of the nearby Poatina Hydro power station (which opened in 1964), in 1995 Hydro Tasmania sold the vast majority of the town to Fusion Australia, a Christian Youth and Community organisation which works with young folk and their communities throughout the country.
So today, in Poatina (which means 'cave' in the local aboriginal lingo) all who live here are required to follow rules of behaviour which are hoped will provide a safe and secure environment and a lifestyle which could be considered as idyllic. Vocational rehabilitation is provided to unemployed and homeless youngsters and at Fusion's training centre, people from Australia and overseas are trained in youth and community work.
All this is, of course, entirely laudable, but I was a touch concerned to read that anyone who wishes to buy a house in Poatina must first face a vetting committee to ensure they are of the 'right stuff'. Hmmmmm!
The power station, fed by waters from Great Lake, remains Tasmania's second largest. It is housed 150 metres underground in a massive artificial cavern
where its six turbines bang out 300 MW of electricity (as shown in these photos from 'Hydro Tasmania').
One fact I did find both fascinating and extraordinary was the discovery that the 5.6 kilometre penstock (which we had just seen on the nearby hill) was fabricated in Italy and put together on site.
Apart from all the 'good works' which are going on here, Poatina's location on a plateau in the heart of the Great Western Tiers make it an ideal holiday destination for both anglers and bushwalkers. Great Lake and Arthurs Lake are close by and the town is surrounded by rivers and lakes considered by many to provide Tassie's best inland fishing.
Although it seemed relatively small to us, there is quite a bit to this town, including a 3 star Motel, Mountain View Restaurant, Mountain Cottages, Backpackers hostel, 54 brick veneer houses, Community Hall, Offices, Op shop, Gift shop, Service Station, Post Office, Recording Studio, Arts Centre, Hot Glass Studio, Training Centre, Kindergarten and Primary Trinity School, 9 hole - 18 tee golf course, tennis court, Swimming Centre, and a family operated general store.
A playground, free electric BBQs and 24 hour Public Toilets are all maintained for the use and enjoyment by day trippers.
Well, after all this we had better have a quick look around, which we did without actually leaving the Cruiser....we had a big day ahead of us. This is a typical street of the company houses built back in the late 50's.
The architecture of the Community Hall
and the Poatina Chalet (front entrance area) are typical of the era in which they were built.
The quite large general store lies on the edge of the 'village green'.
I have to confess here that there really is much more to Poatina than our fleeting visit allows me to share pictorially, so true to form, I've 'borrowed' a couple in the quest to do this town justice.
The arts have a special place in Poatina. Its Arts Centre is home to some interesting and quite evocative work and includes one of Tasmania’s only hot glass blowing studios (thanks 'Aussie Towns' for this photo.)
One a completely different note, innovative farming techniques are taught here in Poatina, and the needs of those who demand alternative schooling techniques are also met.
This is indeed a town on contrasts. With all which now goes on here, the emphasis on wholesome living and communing with nature, who on earth would expect that Poatina is also home to a hotly contested annual hill climb. But each year the 'rev heads' come in their droves (this photo courtesy of 'The Examiner'),
and there are some serious contenders with serious money behind them (as this shot from the 'Hobart Mecrury' clearly demonstrates) all determined to make the 10.2 kilometre climb from Poatina up Mount Blackwood in the shortest time.
And finally, there is the Poatina Monument, or rather what is now left of it, which stands on the town entrance roadway at the highway junction.
We had obviously spotted it as we drove in and stopped on our exit to try and work out what this odd looking conglomeration was all about.
The lookout platform at the top of a rough stairway seemed an obvious starting position, so off I went,
at one point prepared to accelerate to a great speed before realising that my unexpected trackside companion was well beyond causing me any harm.
The platform provided grand views out over the plain below the Tiers, but that was it.
I had to resort to later research to solve this mystery and what an answer I found. Again I'm indebted to 'Aussie Towns'. I've included their text in full with some misgivings considering just how 'wordy' it is, but then I decided that this description of the purpose and construction of this odd monument really says a great deal about Poatina and what goes on here.
"The
monument representing the Past, Present and Future of Poatina was
commissioned in 2004. However in 2010 a severe windstorm damaged two of
the towers. Plans are now underway to rebuild them."
So there it sits looking rather overgrown and dishevelled and if you look carefully you will be able to read the story of its genesis. "Each tower is constructed from hand-made glass bricks. The bricks were created in the village by Trinity College students and other volunteers using recycled glass collected in the village and surrounding region. Over two tonnes of glass were collected, washed, crushed and loaded into ceramic moulds before being melted in the kiln at temperatures over 900 degrees centigrade.
The firing process for each kiln-load of bricks took over four days to complete. The glass bricks, derived from clear and green bottles and jars discarded as part of ordinary domestic life, appear opaque and solid by day but yet are transformed at night by internal light into beautiful pillars of light.
So there it sits looking rather overgrown and dishevelled and if you look carefully you will be able to read the story of its genesis. "Each tower is constructed from hand-made glass bricks. The bricks were created in the village by Trinity College students and other volunteers using recycled glass collected in the village and surrounding region. Over two tonnes of glass were collected, washed, crushed and loaded into ceramic moulds before being melted in the kiln at temperatures over 900 degrees centigrade.
The firing process for each kiln-load of bricks took over four days to complete. The glass bricks, derived from clear and green bottles and jars discarded as part of ordinary domestic life, appear opaque and solid by day but yet are transformed at night by internal light into beautiful pillars of light.
The pool is surrounded by a radiating triangular platform with masses
of veins of different material forming a compass-like pattern of
pathways representing the many parts of the globe from which people
travelled to be part of Poatina. The veins are also a symbol of pathways
back to many of those places as the village continues to grow as a
place of international significance.
Many objects and material unearthed around the village and power station have been used in the veins, including slabs of old concrete from ruined parts of the village. Indigenous plants and rocks have also been used, paying homage to the important indigenous and natural heritage of the area ... we are reminded of the value of even the seemingly mundane aspects of our shared existence together that all too often have gone missing in our fast-paced modern world.
By night another symbolic transformation takes place: the humble marble like figures of the day are transformed into beautiful candle like pillars of light. Indeed it is often through the moments of darkness and trial that a community's true colours can be fully seen and appreciated." There is much more and it has been badly damaged by the storm."
I'm pleased that I could find this photo (courtesy 'Keith Dougall') of the monument as it was before the storm. Frankly my oft used word 'esoteric' seems barely adequate when trying to describe this ugly conglomeration of material. But if the good (and entirely wholesome) folk of Poatina were trying to make a statement, I guess they have succeeded.
After this rather bewildering interlude we were off again, and with one final glimpse of the Poatina penstock
we began what had become a familiar Tassie highway joust.........with large and lumbering (!) log trucks.
By now the road was becoming more and more demanding, with tight turns
narrow, rocky sided sections,
and yet more log trucks to focus the attention of those behind an approaching steering wheel. This was, in part, why we were more than pleased that we had chosen not to haul the caravan up this highway. As this shot demonstrates, we would have cleared this mechanical behemoth by barely less than a metre.
But as I have noted in the past more than once, with heights come views, and in this case the photo which my companion with the camera managed does really not do justice to what we were seeing unfold below us.
I've resorted to my now 'not so new toy' in an attempt to show the road over which we had been travelling on our quest to see Great Lake. An ascent of the Great Western Tiers is far from plain sailing, but to be honest, 'sans van' it did not create too many 'that was interesting' moments.
By the time we had covered about 20 kms out of Poatina we came to a turn off sign pointing to the lakeside hamlet of Cramps Bay. We knew that we had been travelling parallel to the eastern shore of Great Lake for some distance, so it was high time to take a peek.
And there it was, well a tiny section of it at least. This really is a significant patch of water, 176 square kilometres of surface area in fact.
The road into Cramps Bay, permanent population officially zero, took us past a smattering of buildings which ranged from wooden paling huts
to some with a little more amenity, but it was clear that Cramps Bay exists for one purpose only....trout fishing (and perhaps some bushwalking). This we shortly discovered was a good introduction to the lifestyle one could expect in this region of Tasmania.
In and out of Cramps Bay, we pushed on towards Miena, past many sections of the road where the delightful Tasmanian pink mountain berry bushes provided some colour amongst the rocks.
We were now travelling into the heart of one of the reputed best lake fishing areas on the Island
and despite the fact that this area is classed as a plateau, there were still some significant stretches of hilly highway to be traversed
before we came to the junction we had been seeking. Miena was in our sights.
Once heading north-west on the A5 the scenery changed dramatically. Hills and forest gave way to real plateau country where low scrubby bushes covered the landscape.
This sign, just short of the township of Miena, demanded a quick detour
to the nearby car park from where we could see part of the waters of Great Lake stretching away in the distance.
Here too we could see the Miena Dams,
one consisting of concrete arches, built in 1927, and behind it the rock fill wall completed in 1982.
I have to say that initially I was somewhat underwhelmed. For some reason (probably a demonstrable lack of prior research) I had expected much more, particularly after having seen the massive construction which is the Gordon dam.
This aerial shot (courtesy of 'pinterest') clearly shows that by Tasmanian or any other standards, these are not massive walls.
But size and spectacular engineering are not always necessary for success, and the Miena dams and the waters of Great Lake which resulted from their construction are a prime example. Because, you see, we were standing at the site of the first hydro power scheme in Tasmania. Yes, folks, this is where it all began.
Believe it or not, the turbines of the nearby Waddamana power station began spinning in 1916, fed by the waters from Great Lake. The Miena dams system continued to raise the water levels higher over the years and more power stations were built. When the Waddamana station was decommissioned, Poatina came on line.
Today Great Lake is the State's third largest freshwater storage and it is not only the Poatina
power station which is driven by the waters hurtling down the penstock on the face of the Great Western Tiers from the storage high above. The discharge from Poatina is then channelled on to spin the turbines in the Trevallyn power station which is only five kilometres from the heart of Launceston and was the first such facility to be built outside the central highlands.
Abundant water and the force of gravity....what a boon this has been for Tasmania.
Power and recreation. Many of the highland lakes are bursting with trout, and with fish come those wanting to catch them. We had already seen the little fishing hamlet of Cramps Bay, but one of many dotted around the shores of Great Lake.
Miena and Liaweenee are probably the best known, and for two reasons. Apart from the fishing shacks which sprawl around these two small towns, Liaweenee in particular bears the reputation as being the coldest place in Tasmania. We had noted with almost monotonous regularity on the island weather reports that Liaweenee could expect the lowest maximum temperature, well before our venture to the top of the Great Western Tiers.
The other forecast feature with which we had become familiar were the wind warnings. As well as predictions of heavy seas around the various parts of the coast, strong wind warnings here in Tasmania often included the inland lakes.
Today, from the Miena dams lookout, we could see why. The waters of Great Lake were seriously choppy, not the place to be venturing in the small craft typical of those used by those hoping to hook a trout or two. Wind warnings on the Apple Isle are to be taken very seriously.
So, after this quick lesson in the development of Tassie hydro, it was on into the township of Miena itself. We were particularly interested to see what we may have missed in not making an overnight stop at the local hotel.
And the answer was....not much! The 'caravan park' was nothing more than a bleak patch of bare, rocky ground, and despite its reputation for pretty good grub, the Central Highlands Lodge did not exude an external appeal which left us despairing our decision.
The same could be said for Miena itself, which we discovered was very much a 'shack' town in the same vein as Cramps Bay.
While some houses here were of a much grander appearance, such as those to be seen beyond the 'pub',
and others, like this one, had a certain rustic appeal, we soon decided that Miena had very little to offer folk like us who were not hell bent on bending a rod and tickling a trout or two.
And then there's the cold....it even snows here in mid summer. So with one last look out over the grey and chilly waters of Great Lake, we said farewell to Miena, rejoicing in the fact that we had not hauled the van all this way (over roads which are even noted in the tourist brochures as mountainous and winding) all for a tick on our Tassie Pub Crawl list.
We had barely covered the first few of the thirteen kilometres back south to the highway junction which had brought us up to Miena, when we were brought to a sudden halt,
one which had nothing to do with the road conditions themselves, but plenty to do with other users. We were a little bemused by the sign on the approaching 4WD....'Traffic Hazard Ahead'. It seemed to us that it was very much 'behind'!
What's a sheep run without a dog and a drover...bush hat, jeans and a flannelet shirt with a fag hanging out of his mouth...how Aussie was this? The only thing missing was the horse!
And there were plenty of sheep, all stubbornly determined to proceed exactly as they chose despite our slow approach.
We capitulated in the face of these odds, coming to a complete stop and letting them walk around us. Even then a few of the more spectacularly stupid just propped right in front of the Cruiser and stared at us until shunted from behind by the pressing throng. What truly dopey animals these are.
We were finally able to pick our way carefully through the stragglers, and received a cheery wave of thanks for our caution from the bloke bringing up the rear in another vehicle, which to our great disappointment did not carry a sign 'Traffic Hazard Behind'!
In Tassie sheep are never far away, particularly in this part of the Island. Despite the delay, we were grateful that it was only beasts of this size with which we had to contend....cattle in similar numbers and at close quarters like this would have been decidedly disconcerting.
Once clear of this ovine highway encounter, we pushed on, only to shortly come across another of those fascinating gems of early life in Tasmania which just seem to pop up throughout the State.
Many objects and material unearthed around the village and power station have been used in the veins, including slabs of old concrete from ruined parts of the village. Indigenous plants and rocks have also been used, paying homage to the important indigenous and natural heritage of the area ... we are reminded of the value of even the seemingly mundane aspects of our shared existence together that all too often have gone missing in our fast-paced modern world.
By night another symbolic transformation takes place: the humble marble like figures of the day are transformed into beautiful candle like pillars of light. Indeed it is often through the moments of darkness and trial that a community's true colours can be fully seen and appreciated." There is much more and it has been badly damaged by the storm."
I'm pleased that I could find this photo (courtesy 'Keith Dougall') of the monument as it was before the storm. Frankly my oft used word 'esoteric' seems barely adequate when trying to describe this ugly conglomeration of material. But if the good (and entirely wholesome) folk of Poatina were trying to make a statement, I guess they have succeeded.
After this rather bewildering interlude we were off again, and with one final glimpse of the Poatina penstock
we began what had become a familiar Tassie highway joust.........with large and lumbering (!) log trucks.
By now the road was becoming more and more demanding, with tight turns
narrow, rocky sided sections,
and yet more log trucks to focus the attention of those behind an approaching steering wheel. This was, in part, why we were more than pleased that we had chosen not to haul the caravan up this highway. As this shot demonstrates, we would have cleared this mechanical behemoth by barely less than a metre.
But as I have noted in the past more than once, with heights come views, and in this case the photo which my companion with the camera managed does really not do justice to what we were seeing unfold below us.
I've resorted to my now 'not so new toy' in an attempt to show the road over which we had been travelling on our quest to see Great Lake. An ascent of the Great Western Tiers is far from plain sailing, but to be honest, 'sans van' it did not create too many 'that was interesting' moments.
By the time we had covered about 20 kms out of Poatina we came to a turn off sign pointing to the lakeside hamlet of Cramps Bay. We knew that we had been travelling parallel to the eastern shore of Great Lake for some distance, so it was high time to take a peek.
And there it was, well a tiny section of it at least. This really is a significant patch of water, 176 square kilometres of surface area in fact.
The road into Cramps Bay, permanent population officially zero, took us past a smattering of buildings which ranged from wooden paling huts
to some with a little more amenity, but it was clear that Cramps Bay exists for one purpose only....trout fishing (and perhaps some bushwalking). This we shortly discovered was a good introduction to the lifestyle one could expect in this region of Tasmania.
In and out of Cramps Bay, we pushed on towards Miena, past many sections of the road where the delightful Tasmanian pink mountain berry bushes provided some colour amongst the rocks.
We were now travelling into the heart of one of the reputed best lake fishing areas on the Island
and despite the fact that this area is classed as a plateau, there were still some significant stretches of hilly highway to be traversed
before we came to the junction we had been seeking. Miena was in our sights.
Once heading north-west on the A5 the scenery changed dramatically. Hills and forest gave way to real plateau country where low scrubby bushes covered the landscape.
This sign, just short of the township of Miena, demanded a quick detour
to the nearby car park from where we could see part of the waters of Great Lake stretching away in the distance.
Here too we could see the Miena Dams,
one consisting of concrete arches, built in 1927, and behind it the rock fill wall completed in 1982.
I have to say that initially I was somewhat underwhelmed. For some reason (probably a demonstrable lack of prior research) I had expected much more, particularly after having seen the massive construction which is the Gordon dam.
This aerial shot (courtesy of 'pinterest') clearly shows that by Tasmanian or any other standards, these are not massive walls.
But size and spectacular engineering are not always necessary for success, and the Miena dams and the waters of Great Lake which resulted from their construction are a prime example. Because, you see, we were standing at the site of the first hydro power scheme in Tasmania. Yes, folks, this is where it all began.
Believe it or not, the turbines of the nearby Waddamana power station began spinning in 1916, fed by the waters from Great Lake. The Miena dams system continued to raise the water levels higher over the years and more power stations were built. When the Waddamana station was decommissioned, Poatina came on line.
Today Great Lake is the State's third largest freshwater storage and it is not only the Poatina
power station which is driven by the waters hurtling down the penstock on the face of the Great Western Tiers from the storage high above. The discharge from Poatina is then channelled on to spin the turbines in the Trevallyn power station which is only five kilometres from the heart of Launceston and was the first such facility to be built outside the central highlands.
Abundant water and the force of gravity....what a boon this has been for Tasmania.
Power and recreation. Many of the highland lakes are bursting with trout, and with fish come those wanting to catch them. We had already seen the little fishing hamlet of Cramps Bay, but one of many dotted around the shores of Great Lake.
Miena and Liaweenee are probably the best known, and for two reasons. Apart from the fishing shacks which sprawl around these two small towns, Liaweenee in particular bears the reputation as being the coldest place in Tasmania. We had noted with almost monotonous regularity on the island weather reports that Liaweenee could expect the lowest maximum temperature, well before our venture to the top of the Great Western Tiers.
The other forecast feature with which we had become familiar were the wind warnings. As well as predictions of heavy seas around the various parts of the coast, strong wind warnings here in Tasmania often included the inland lakes.
Today, from the Miena dams lookout, we could see why. The waters of Great Lake were seriously choppy, not the place to be venturing in the small craft typical of those used by those hoping to hook a trout or two. Wind warnings on the Apple Isle are to be taken very seriously.
So, after this quick lesson in the development of Tassie hydro, it was on into the township of Miena itself. We were particularly interested to see what we may have missed in not making an overnight stop at the local hotel.
And the answer was....not much! The 'caravan park' was nothing more than a bleak patch of bare, rocky ground, and despite its reputation for pretty good grub, the Central Highlands Lodge did not exude an external appeal which left us despairing our decision.
The same could be said for Miena itself, which we discovered was very much a 'shack' town in the same vein as Cramps Bay.
While some houses here were of a much grander appearance, such as those to be seen beyond the 'pub',
and others, like this one, had a certain rustic appeal, we soon decided that Miena had very little to offer folk like us who were not hell bent on bending a rod and tickling a trout or two.
And then there's the cold....it even snows here in mid summer. So with one last look out over the grey and chilly waters of Great Lake, we said farewell to Miena, rejoicing in the fact that we had not hauled the van all this way (over roads which are even noted in the tourist brochures as mountainous and winding) all for a tick on our Tassie Pub Crawl list.
We had barely covered the first few of the thirteen kilometres back south to the highway junction which had brought us up to Miena, when we were brought to a sudden halt,
one which had nothing to do with the road conditions themselves, but plenty to do with other users. We were a little bemused by the sign on the approaching 4WD....'Traffic Hazard Ahead'. It seemed to us that it was very much 'behind'!
What's a sheep run without a dog and a drover...bush hat, jeans and a flannelet shirt with a fag hanging out of his mouth...how Aussie was this? The only thing missing was the horse!
And there were plenty of sheep, all stubbornly determined to proceed exactly as they chose despite our slow approach.
We capitulated in the face of these odds, coming to a complete stop and letting them walk around us. Even then a few of the more spectacularly stupid just propped right in front of the Cruiser and stared at us until shunted from behind by the pressing throng. What truly dopey animals these are.
We were finally able to pick our way carefully through the stragglers, and received a cheery wave of thanks for our caution from the bloke bringing up the rear in another vehicle, which to our great disappointment did not carry a sign 'Traffic Hazard Behind'!
In Tassie sheep are never far away, particularly in this part of the Island. Despite the delay, we were grateful that it was only beasts of this size with which we had to contend....cattle in similar numbers and at close quarters like this would have been decidedly disconcerting.
Once clear of this ovine highway encounter, we pushed on, only to shortly come across another of those fascinating gems of early life in Tasmania which just seem to pop up throughout the State.
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