Vignettes of the World
The Hong Kong UNESCO Global GeoPark remembers Hong Kong in a way that none of us does. Hexagonal rock columns line the slopes at the Eastern Dam of the High Island Reservoir in Sai Kung. They span a total area of 100 square kilometers including …
Hobart was a kind of place that opened up your mind. We arrived into ample sunshine and a blue sky that spread wide and far above us. The city was vast, and as the second oldest city of Australia, retained much of its antique character. …
On day 3 our journey would take us across the city into the Cataract Gorge. The Cataract Gorge is where the three rivers of Launceston meet: the Tamar, the Northern Esk and the Southern Esk.
We took the Tiger Bus on our way to the River Explorer. Getting off at the Royal Park, we soon arrived at the entrance point to Cataract Gorge.
The Cataract Walk is an easy 15-minute stroll leading to the Gorge Basin. As we walked on, we saw the area gradually opening up to a nature colored in chestnut and verdant. The river basin was in greenish brown, seeming to suggest a fertility that sustained many kinds of wild lives.
We decided to only take the chairlift one way, so we headed toward the suspension bridge. On our way there, we were distracted by signs pointing us to a lookout. The Cataract Lookout was a 20-minute walk return. We tried to brave the trail, but twenty minutes later we saw no signs of the trail ending. Despite the best of my determination, we decided to head back.
The chairlift claimed itself to be the longest such lift in the world. I certainly thought that the ride on Mount Hermon in Israel was longer and steeper. Yet it was a nice rest for me because my knees were hurting from all those walking since we came to Tasmania. I would suffer from knee pain for the rest of the trip.
The plan for lunch was to visit the restaurants at the Sea Port. It was a good walk from the Cataract Gorge to the Sea Port along the Tamar River. We passed by the Ritchie’s Mill, what was once a building for industry, and now revived into a charming antique building as home to the Still Water River Café. However, food would be too expensive at the Café for us. Therefore we were happy just to snap a picture there.
Under the warm winter sunlight the Tamar River glowed, reflections of light glimmered against a very dark-colored water. There were yachts and sailboats at the dock, together making an impression of a waterfront leisure. We sat down for an Indian lunch at the very far end of the riverside.
Launceston left a lasting impression of quaint antiquity.
For centuries, the villagers of Kat Hing Wai lived in contentment. The Tang clan settled in the Yuen Long area as early as the Song dynasty. The Tang villagers were the first settlers in this area of the New Territories. When the last Emperor of …
Launceston is the third oldest city in Australia after Syndey (1st) and Hobart (2nd). That explains why the city retains a distinctively Victorian vibe. Much of the character of the late 18th, early 19th century is well alive in Launceston today. Charles Street is the …
Where there is no time and nothing matters.
We were slow to start, because the spring-like atmosphere was very pleasing to our senses. The Cradle Mountain’s snowy heights glimmered under the gentle sunlight. The scene was absorbing, and we took our time. We also made every detour possible to see the lake shore and the glacier rock. It was late morning already and we had our hearty packed lunch by the lake. Our roast chicken and avocado sandwich attracted the attention of hungry currawongs, waiting ever so patiently for our leftovers.
It seemed to have come from nowhere, but a strong wind blew over us suddenly. We could feel the chill immediately. The temperature must have dropped five degrees just like that. It then rained down snowflakes that melted away before it landed the ground as misty drops from heaven.
After lunch we hiked at a more consistent pace for about an hour or so. We had to keep time, as we did not want to join the group late. We must have advanced about 1/3 of the total trail in this hour. The circuit was curved around toward the home direction in the second third of the way. We decided to take a short break. There was overcast then. For some time we simply could not see the snowy mountaintop that revealed so unabashedly under the gentle sunlight of a winter morning, perhaps just about an hour ago.
The colors of Cradle Mountain was that of the autumn. The pencil pine is a common inhabitant of the Cradle Mountain. It grows at a pace of 2cm a year, and we saw many of them. They were so tall, as if they could reach the very roof of the earth. I thought these trees were at least 2,000 years old. Graham told us that the oldest tree around was 4,000 years, about 85km away from where we were.
To my untrained eye it seemed as if there were only a few kinds of shrubs and bushes along the circuit. They formed a neutral color tone consisting of green, brown and chestnut. The green formation near the ground were called “button grass.” The chestnut littering amidst a pine, nutty green was very soothing to the eye. There did not seem to be a wide variety of growth and vegetation, but the consistency of that evergreen and brown made an impression that lasted way beyond the hike itself. It was winter time, and yet these colors breathed a gentle but firm spirit of life. One could only imagine what spring might look like in this mountainous region.
We noticed what Graham told us earlier was true. The Palawa Aborigines had 12 seasons probably due to the fact that nature at the Cradle Mountain had an unusually unpredictable temperament. The weather could change in a matter of minutes. As we embarked on the most strenuous part of the trail, the climb became very difficult. We were under time pressure, just about an hour more to go before we must meet the group. It started snowing, and rather heavily too.
At every step upward I asked myself, “when is this going to end?” It seemed like we were climbing a never-ending set of steps up. We had no time to lose and both my aunt and I were completely silent for a good forty-five minutes. Both of us knew that we must only focus on climbing. I felt a strange sensation: the snow kept the surroundings very cold, but we were rushing in a pace that kept us too warm inside. Graham gave us each an extra layer of wind coat before we headed off. The snow was making it wet and heavy, too heavy for an ascending hike. I decided to keep the coat on, despite feeling too warm inside. Any extra weight on my arms would make the hike impossible.
My aunt’s face turned sanguine, it looked as if she has had too much to drink. I knew she was feeling too warm inside as well. But there was no time to waste, we must climb on. Although we had been climbing upward for more than ten minutes we were still at the foot of the mountain. We looked ahead but the view did not allow us to see very far. There was no way for me to assess how much more we would have to go like this. We came across no one else on this part of the hike.
When we were done climbing up, the view opened up immediately. We could see that we were descending, and we did continuously for another fifteen to twenty minutes. It was an incredible relief when we were back on the shore level of the lake. The road sign said, “Dove Lake Car Park, 10 minutes.” We saw the boat shed and we could relax and take some photographs. “We survived!” I meant it literally.
Gustav Weindorfer was an Australian botanist that advocated strongly for the Cradle Mountain area to be designated a national park. Once at the summit, he said, “where there is no time and nothing matters.” This quote made a deep impression when I was doing research on the Cradle Mountain. It must have been near-spiritual up there at the top. Although at the last third of the trail my aunt and I struggled through the severe weather and the rigorousness of the trail, the calm and wonder that we felt at our completion did bring a sense of timelessness to the whole experience.
Even though we were the last to show, we did make it before the scheduled departure. At the car park we looked back at Cradle Mountain one more time. The snowy mountaintop was again glimmering under the afternoon sun. Sunlight turned the now dissipated snow into a rainbow. Immediately, it reminded me of God’s promise to Noah.
That afternoon, God’s promise to me was the wombats. It was once commented that wombats lead an ideal life: they spend half the time eating and the other half sleeping. They probably spend considerable time pooping too, as that is how they guard their territory. We saw a few large, wild wombats that made large burrows on the ground.
The tour concluded with honey and cheese tasting. I bought some leatherwood honey, which comes from a species of trees native in Tasmania. The day ended on a sweet note.
Works cited:
Biography – Weindorfer, Gustav, Australian Dictionary of Biography.
With excitement I rose early on the second day in Launceston. We were heading to the Cradle Mountain, and I wondered if I would come close to anything like an adventure. My bent for history has guided my research on Tasmania, particularly Port Arthur. As …
Launceston presented a first impression quite unlike what I imagined. I thought we were still at the suburbs when the airport bus dropped us off at the Batman Fawkner. I then realized that large swathes of residential areas surrounded the City of Launceston, seamlessly blended …
The convicts could have never imagined Tasmania today. But then again, even with the wonderfully preserved historic sites, we can hardly imagine Tasmania back then.
On our arrival in Launceston we checked into the Batman Fawkner Inn. I had not known that the Batman Fawkner Inn was itself a historic relic. The owner John Pascoe Fawkner built the Batman Fawkner Inn, formerly known as the Cornwall, in 1824. John Fawkner was the son of a convict. He and his family accompanied his father’s transportation to Australia, and ended up settling down in Hobart, Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) in 1804.
Fawkner experienced some difficulties in his early life. He received lashings and a sentence of hard labor for an offense. He then made his way to Launceston. There Fawkner gradually developed successful businesses in hotel, coaching services, newspaper publishing, sawyering and horticultural nursery. In 1835, he sailed to the southern coast of the mainland looking for a new settlement. He moored in Port Philip, in what is now Melbourne. Thereafter he also discovered the Yarra River.
On the other hand, John Batman was born in Australia and he started out as a grazer in Tasmania. When the land of Tasmania no longer yielded the pastures he needed for his livestock, he looked to the southern coast of the mainland for another settlement.
Also in 1835, he sailed to Port Philip. Although historians contested this account, it became known that he signed a treaty with the Wurundjeri Aboriginals to acquire land for his own settlement. Some would say that this was the first (and only) documented account of the European settlers negotiating for occupancy of Aboriginal lands. Batman died, however, in 1839, and that left Fawkner to rise and become the earliest preeminent citizen of Victoria.
Fawkner and Batman negotiated some of the settlement arrangements in Melbourne at the Cornwall in 1835. The hostel proudly displays this fact at its reception area, “A meeting held here resulted in the foundation of the City of Melbourne.”
The Batman Fawkner Inn remains the oldest hotel that is trading at its original site in Launceston. The site acquired its current name in tribute to both Batman and Fawkner in 1981. Now it markets itself as a budget accommodation. Finally, just a fun point to note, the Inn is said to be haunted as well.
Works Cited:
Cornwall Hotel, The Companion to Tasmanian History.
Foundation of Melbourne, Wikipedia.
History Behind the Haunted – Batman Fawkner Inn.
Perhaps many travelers would agree with me on this. When one explores a new destination, there is that inkling in the heart, a soft voice inside wondering: could I live here? The older that I get, the more it is that I look at the …