Tally Ho bart

After almost a week of guided tours today we are on our own heading towards Launceston. First order of the day was picking up the hire car. Which was all going OK till the rental car man suggested I should take some photos of the car before and after I return it, that way if there is a dispute I would have some back up. Now wouldn’t that have been nice if Budget suggested that to me a year or two ago!

We headed back into Hobart to see the Antarctic Museum at the replica of Mawson’s Huts. We weren’t expecting much but were pleasantly surprised, the place is a treasure trove of the early expeditions to Antarctica. Mawson, being the boss, got his own separate room, but being a separate room the heater didn’t reach in there so he often woke with his blanket frozen to the wall. We found that out along with another 5 million useful snippets from one of the volunteers who was a little too keen to share.

We grabbed lunch and headed up to Mount Wellington. Ann was keen to drive up but preferred I drive down so she could enjoy the scenery and not become part of it. The view from the summit is spectacular and it gave me an understanding of what Mawson felt each morning as my clothes froze to me. It wasn’t just cold it was blowing a gale as well for the full Mawson experience. Just to prove it is a small world we ran into the people from Cairns we had met on our first days tour.

It was now three o’clock and with the sun setting we headed off to Evandale, a little town near Launceston, and allegedly the third town established in Tasmania. As is common everywhere the highway by-passes a lot of the smaller towns so we detoured into some of them to see what they offered.

Our favourite was Callington where they have restored the windmill which is now back to grinding flour for making bread. In its life it started as a flour mill, got abandoned, then was sealed up and used for water storage and now has been returned to its former glory.

Tonight’s accommodation is at the Old Wesleyan Chapel in Evandale, which unsurprisingly was built in 1836, pretty much like everything in Tasmania including the pub we had dinner in. I was assured this wasn’t a church but chapel, not that I would know the difference, but I was a little unsure how much I would have to behave myself in a church.

But I need not have worried there was little to let me know this was once a place of worship, aside from the confessional doors, the painting of Jesus, the Jesus and Moses pillows and the Holy Messiah air freshener and night light. If that wasn’t enough the floors and windows are holier than thou, but they have their work cut out for them against the hotter than hades hot water system which Ann has accepted as a challenge. It is now a National Heritage B’n’B, a far cry from its other uses as a Scouts Hall and Druids meeting room.

We headed to the local for dinner with drizzle setting in and the temperature struggling to stay in positive territory. As we snuggled by the fire we were joined by another dinner who was eating outside and just popped in to warm up. She thought it was too much of a pleasant night to be cooped up inside!Read more