Red rocks at Sleepy Bay in Freycinet National Park
A jaw-dropping sight en route to Port Arthur
Our cruise tour around the islands at Port Arthur
The old convict's quarters at Port Arthur
Cassie models the hot 80's disco bed in our budget B&B
We started off with homemade corn fritters, chutney, and bacon at the bed and breakfast, then headed off for a few more quick walks around Freycinet. We saw Cape Tourville and Sleepy Bay. The day was overcast and foggy, but the red rocks were still quite a sight, offset by the striking color of the water.
Then we continued down the coast to Port Arthur, with many oohs and aahs and scenic detours en route. The roads were all very curvy and I had to laugh at the speed limit signs which said “it’s a limit, not a challenge”. Port Arthur is a historic sight of the prisons and keeper’s quarters from when convicts were originally deported from England to Tasmania, many for petty crimes, and others for more serious offenses. As it’s right on the water, our historic tour included a boat cruise around nearby islands. Port Arthur abuts the dangerous Southern Ocean which leads to Antarctica (only 800 nautical miles away… I think). We did our own walking tour and tour of the prison and homes before we were caught in a torrential downpour. We raced back to the museum and decided to forego our guided tour as we would be completely drenched. The museum was surprisingly interesting as it explained different roles and assignments the convicts had. Skilled craftsman all worked in their trade, be it shoe smithing, cooking, or medical. Others were on chain gangs, chopping trees or building structures. Many tried to escape, but were caught, some returning to more acclaimed roles than previously because of the admiration they received from other inmates.
We drove onto Hobart, the capital city of Tasmania that evening. We checked into our bed and breakfast accommodations just before dinner. Our more economical lodging was rather entertaining – we had a very 80’s bed with a vinyl headboard with built-in radio and swivel, dimming lights. Matching furniture cluttered the large room. An adjacent converted veranda contained an additional bed, seating, and the bathroom, which was all leaning at a 10-20 degree slope and felt rather unsafe.
We walked along the port and Salamenca Street to find a place for dinner. We’d found all of Tasmania to be rather quiet and dead, wondering where all of the people were. This area seemed to be a little more active, but still not thriving as you’d expect in a capital city. We settled into a delicious Thai restaurant and retired early.
Then we continued down the coast to Port Arthur, with many oohs and aahs and scenic detours en route. The roads were all very curvy and I had to laugh at the speed limit signs which said “it’s a limit, not a challenge”. Port Arthur is a historic sight of the prisons and keeper’s quarters from when convicts were originally deported from England to Tasmania, many for petty crimes, and others for more serious offenses. As it’s right on the water, our historic tour included a boat cruise around nearby islands. Port Arthur abuts the dangerous Southern Ocean which leads to Antarctica (only 800 nautical miles away… I think). We did our own walking tour and tour of the prison and homes before we were caught in a torrential downpour. We raced back to the museum and decided to forego our guided tour as we would be completely drenched. The museum was surprisingly interesting as it explained different roles and assignments the convicts had. Skilled craftsman all worked in their trade, be it shoe smithing, cooking, or medical. Others were on chain gangs, chopping trees or building structures. Many tried to escape, but were caught, some returning to more acclaimed roles than previously because of the admiration they received from other inmates.
We drove onto Hobart, the capital city of Tasmania that evening. We checked into our bed and breakfast accommodations just before dinner. Our more economical lodging was rather entertaining – we had a very 80’s bed with a vinyl headboard with built-in radio and swivel, dimming lights. Matching furniture cluttered the large room. An adjacent converted veranda contained an additional bed, seating, and the bathroom, which was all leaning at a 10-20 degree slope and felt rather unsafe.
We walked along the port and Salamenca Street to find a place for dinner. We’d found all of Tasmania to be rather quiet and dead, wondering where all of the people were. This area seemed to be a little more active, but still not thriving as you’d expect in a capital city. We settled into a delicious Thai restaurant and retired early.
