Somewhere Under the Rainbow . . . The Emerald Island of Tasmaniaby Margaret Dornaus There�s a reason North Americans call Australia the Land of Oz. And it�s more than just that this Southern Hemisphere country seems like a parallel, upside-down universe. Nor is it just that many of its mammalian population sport designer pouches sturdy enough for a Joey to withstand the rigors of a bush-country hopscotch.
The hardest-to-please would have trouble finding fault with Tasmania�s offerings--hiking trails backdropped by spectacular, snowcapped mountains; exotic marsupials (from kangaroos and wallabies to wombats to ant-eating echidnas to the infamous eponymous devil named for the only place on earth it still roams freely); lush, emerald-green countryside; rivers and ocean ports for yachting and kayaking; world-class cuisine and wineries; and luxuriant, multi-layered rainforests that envelop you in a soft primordial mist as you stroll up cathedral-like aisles under arched canopies of pandani heath stretching fingered limbs heavenward in search of light. There are even fields of poppies if, like Dorothy, you feel the urge to drift away on a mystical, magical carpet of intoxicating flowers. (Tasmania is the only state in Australia allowed to cultivate opium poppies for export.) Those less anxious to experience such heady vistas will, nevertheless, find it hard to resist drinking in the sights (and smells) of rows upon nursery garden rows of spring-flowering lavender--another of Tasmania�s leading export crops. Just slightly larger than West Virginia, Tasmania approximates Ireland (that other emerald isle) in size. Tasmania�s span from east to west is 189 miles, while only 175 miles separate the northern portion of the island from its southernmost tip. Such compactness, combined with a well-defined highway system, make touring the island by car both efficient and painless. Visitors will find they can cover a great deal of Tasmania in a short amount of time--an added bonus for vacationers hungry to savor the island�s bounty. If you start your Tasmanian exploration as I did in the northern town of Launceston (a comfortable hour�s flight on Ansett Air from mainland Melbourne), you can take in sights along the west coast before heading south to the state�s capital city of Hobart and then up the eastern shore to return full circle. Following this path, you�ll cover quite a lot of ground in a week�s time--although the longer you have to luxuriate in Tasmania�s Oz-like surroundings the better. (Sorry, Dorothy, homesickness just isn�t an issue here.)
At Cradle Mountain, you can check in to the (P&O Australian Resorts) lodge perched on the edge of the wilderness area. Cabins here are warm and comfortable, and, as you walk through the surrounding buttongrass fields to dinner, you�re likely to be greeted by the locals--wallabies, wombats and roly-poly pademelons (pronounced �paddy melons�)--out for their evening constitutionals. The lodge�s dining room is commodious yet inviting, and the food (under Chef Geoff Clark�s inimitable wand) is exceptional. After sating myself on Tasmanian scallops with steamed asparagus spears wrapped in smoked salmon, baked Macquarie Harbour salmon resting on a bed of sweet corn mash and lavender mustard sabayon, and chocolate cake topped with a raspberry puree and a justly famous double cream imported from nearby King Island, I am ready to roll merrily down the proverbial yellow brick road toward the evening�s activities. The post-dinner entertainment--a 4x4 spotlighting tour of the buttongrass paddock--is (like the dinner) not to be skipped. I volunteered to ride shotgun beside our guide and driver as we took up the serious task of tracking down Tasmania�s nocturnal wildlife. The assignment was an easy one; Cradle Mountain literally rocks with nightlife. I let the chorus of oohs and ahs from my back-seat companions guide me as I swept my torch in an arc across the critter-crawling landscape. This side of Oz had, for us, turned out to be wombat and wallaby heaven. After such a formidable early showing of Tasmanian treasure, it�s hard to imagine that the island can perform any more magic on us than it already has. The next morning�s introduction to the land around Cradle Mountain took us to the homestead of Gustav Weindorfer, an Austrian naturalist who first explored the area in 1909. Enchanted by the region�s beauty, Weindorfer built a rough cabin in the shadow of the mist-covered mountain. There, he pursued a lifelong study of the area�s fauna and flora. Today, a reproduction of his 1912 cabin--known as Waldheim Chalet--is open to the public; inside, artifacts and diaries attest to the primitive lifestyle Weindorfer (and, in later years, his wife) led in order to satisfy a passionate thirst for this land. Step outside the back door of the cabin and into the mossy rainforest trail that surrounds it and you�ll begin to understand that passion. Even the most jaded traveler will be moved by the quiet tumult of this crowded landscape. It is, quite simply, one of the most spiritual 20-minute walks you�re ever likely to encounter. On our way to the west coast town of Strahan, we see not one but four rainbows arch across the sky. The sightings, our group decides, are harbingers of continued good times. It turns out we are not disappointed. Strahan is a charming fishing village located at the base of the Macquarie Harbour. Its maritime flavor is immediately evident from the collection of fishing and pleasure boats docked at its centralized wharf. From here, you can take a leisurely cruise up the mouth of the Gordon River, or charter a seaplane or helicopter for unbelievably scenic views of� the coast�s rugged pine-covered landscape. As at other points in our Tasmanian adventure, we have the good fortune of staying at historic guesthouses operated by a coalition of innkeepers called Cottages of the Colony. In Strahan, I find myself lodged in the police superintendent�s cottage--a multi-purpose structure in 1891, when it combined quarters for the town�s courthouse and jail with its first public officer�s residence. My friend, Clint, meanwhile, has the pleasure of lodging next door at the more heavenly inspired Oratory--a former Methodist church that dates back to the 1870s. Both properties have been faithfully restored yet include updated conveniences and luxuries. (The spa in my bath was encased in a lustrous burled wood of native Huon pine.) And both cottages are hospitably managed by a couple of enterprising and engaging brothers named Richard and Nigel Morgan.
Find out more about the enchanting emerald isle of Tasmania at www.tourism.tas.gov.au . E-mail Cottages of the Colony at herit@southcom.com.au or visit their online website at www.view.com.au/cottages . �1999 Margaret Dornaus. Reproduction of this article and/or images, in whole or in part, including reproduction in electronic media, without the express permission of the author, is prohibited. For reprint information, contact mdornaus@earthlink.net . Echidna photograph by Donnelle Oxley. All other images by Margaret Dornaus. |
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Of course there is all that. But, due south of the mainland, on the small island state of Tasmania, there is, in addition, such a profusion of rainbows that you�ll find yourself searching daily for Dorothy, Toto, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion. You probably won�t find them. (You won�t find any tigers, either. The last sighting of the now-extinct Tasmanian tiger was more than 60 years ago, although natives still hold out hope of spotting the legendary creature on treks through the wilderness.) One thing, however, is certain--from the moment you touch down in this topsy-turvy land down under the land down under, you won�t be in Kansas anymore. And, chances are, you won�t be in a hurry to click your heels back home either.
From Launceston, head south and west toward Cradle Mountain--a stunning Wilderness World Heritage area. (One-fifth of Tasmania is protected parkland--a distinction which makes the island one of the �greenest� states you�re likely to find anywhere in the world.) Along the way, be sure to stop at Trowunna Wildlife Park at Mole Creek for an intimate introduction to some of Tasmania�s native creatures. Here, you�ll encounter kangas lounging mid-day under a stand of eucalyptus. You can cuddle a furry wombat in your arms. Or challenge a Tasmanian Devil to a staring match. (You�ll probably back down once you�ve seen the devil�s razor-sharp bicuspids.) One additional warning--stay at arm�s length from the koalas; although as cute as any Munchkin, they�ve been known to get testy with the tourists.
It�s a relatively long drive (four-and-a-half hours) south and east to the Tasmanian capital of Hobart. But, once there, you won�t regret it. Surrounded by mountains, this seaport town--the site of the annual Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race--is a jewel of a city (Australia�s second oldest) with a population of around 175,000. As you might expect, everything here revolves around the bustling waterfront. Take a sail down the River Derwent on the Prudence--a Huon pine yacht captained by an affable Irishman who is as likely to hoist a silver tray of fresh oysters on deck as he is to adjust the jib of his craft. Afterwards, take time to explore Salamanca Place--site of a bustling Saturday market filled with more than 300 vendors selling everything from overwhelmingly beautiful comestibles to antiques to handmade woven goods. The 1830�s warehouses that line the marketplace also warrant exploration, with many--like the Design Centre of Tasmania--highlighting the works of native artisans and artists.
From Hobart, we travel to the former penal colony of Port Arthur on the Tasman Peninsula. But first we stop to visit American expatriate and sculptor Peter Adams at his Roaring Beach homestead. It is here that the award-winning artist sculpts native wood into exquisitely carved benches that have gained him international attention. But he captures my attention even further when he picks up a violin and begins playing a credible rendition of �Somewhere Over the Rainbow.� Tasmania, it seems, is synonymous with Serendipity. 
The haunting beauty of Port Arthur breaks my spell. Our guide Kim tells us that 12,500 prisoners were incarcerated here from 1830 to 1877, and that their crimes--whether petty or heinous--were met with the harshest of conditions in this isolated peninsular work camp. It is difficult to imagine this magnificent setting as the site of such unspeakable cruelty. 
Tomorrow, we travel on to the seaside village of Swansea to encounter a rapturous sunset and the delights of nearby Freycinet National Park (including the pristine Wineglass Bay--ranked one of the most spectacular swimming beaches in the world). Then it�s back on to Launceston (Australia�s third oldest city) to conquer the Tamar River Valley wine trail. But that is a whole other story . . . .