I’ve had another article published by Craig and Linda at indietravelpodcast.com – this time it’s all about roadtrippin’ round Tasmania.  From the beautiful Cataract Gorge in Launceston, via the cosmopolitan delights of Hobart and history of Port Arthur to the beaches, forests and peaks of the east coast and Cradle Mountain, there’s something for everyone on this little island.  Take your own car over on the ferry or hire one once you get there, and enjoy a fantastic roadtrip.

As usual, I’ve included the intro below – follow the link to read the entire article, and check out my Destination: Tasmania section for more details.

Tasmania.  The southernmost state of Australia, separated from the mainland by the wild and unpredictable Bass Strait.  Dense rainforests, golden beaches, towering mountains, historic sites and mile after mile of winding tarmac all in an area not much larger than West Virginia.  The perfect formula, in other words, for a spectacular road trip.

Read more…

Up and out early (I really didn’t want to spend any longer than necessary in the hostel) and on my way to Cradle Mountain.  I knew this was apparently one of the ‘must see’ areas of Tasmania and it seemed a fitting way to spend my last full day here.  As a result I was expecting some stunning scenery – what I wasn’t expecting was the stunning weather to go with it.  It’s fair to say that this part of the state has a reputation for appalling conditions at times, but there were no sign of them while I was there.  Blue skies, hot sunshine and gorgeous views – very much a recipe for success in my book.

The morning dawned bright and clear (unlike my head) and within minutes of leaving town I could see why the Bay of Fires was such a renowned spot.  With the sun shining the place took on an entirely new perspective and I began to wonder what it would take to be able to have a holiday home in the area.  A lottery win, probably.  In any case I soon arrived at Binalong Bay, at the southern end of the Bay of Fires, and it was just stunning.  In a wide sweep as far as the eye could see, the dazzling white sand and crashing aqua waves were a sure recipe to relax the soul (and reduce the hangover), and I spent over an hour quietly wandering along the beach.  With the sun on my face and the wind in my non-existent hair, I could have happily spent days here doing very little else.

This post is bought to you by the letter W, for water.  There’s been no shortage of it lately, both falling from the sky and tumbling down a cliff.  As I drove the fifty-something kilometres from Bicheno to St Helens with the windscreen wipers on, the local’s assurances that the weather was likely to clear seemed somehow a little optimistic.  St Helens is near the start of the Bay of Fires, apparently rated one of the world’s greatest beach areas.  Probably not that day, however …

After locating one of the hostels in town (St Helens Backpackers – you wouldn’t think it’d be hard, being on the main street, but I still drove past it three times…), I carried on westwards through the countryside for another 35km or so to St Columba Falls.  Nestled in the rain forest (kinda appropriate given the weather) about 10 minutes walk from the road, this place is what I imagined Tasmania to look like when thinking about this trip.  Huge ferns, rushing rivers and one of the highest waterfalls in the state.  I don’t know whether it’s usually this majestic or if the precipitation had something to do with it, but it was stunning in any case – made even more so by the fact I knew nothing about the area beyond a two line entry in the guidebook.  If you’re ever up this way, make sure you take an hour or two out of your schedule to get back to nature here.

The weather had been pretty average on the way to Swansea yesterday, and any hopes of an immediate improvement were dashed as soon as I woke up to hear the rain on the roof.  Not really ideal conditions for hiking several hours around the Freycinet National Park, but why let the weather (or logic) get in the way of a good plan?  Thankfully the drizzle did eventually clear somewhat – it was still far from the picture-perfect shots that you see on the tourist brochures, but at least I didn’t need water wings on the trail.

I arrived at the park late morning, and since I hadn’t booked any accommodation for the night I’d only intended spend a couple of hours walking over the hill to Wineglass Bay and back before carrying on to find some lodgings.  Much like Forrest Gump, however, once I started I just kept “runn-ing” (or in this case, plodding), and ended up doing the 13km loop trail around the park.  My legs are thanking me for it this morning.  No, really.