Birtles vs Tasmania

glitch

Mapping the next ride...
Staff member
.
Locals are convinced that the rain due tomorrow will be heavy and long, an opinion confirmed by the sight of a backyard boat-builder
with a long white beard constructing a deep-hulled vessel while his wife rounds up pairs of animals.

We shall see what morning brings.

.


<snigger>

ALL CLASS.... as usual. :bow:
It reads so casual, effortless....bloody brilliant, mate.
And then the magic pics...another hell of a ride-report.

Happy to wait for more whenever you're ready.
THANKS for another trademark Birtles-yarn!!
:clap::clap:
 

omi

Getting the hang of it
hi bernard ! this is great !!!!! i just hope it doesn't take you long to put more on the screen . can't wait. omi . tassie is something !!!
 

platypus121

Tour Pro

.
It does rain, but by morning patches of blue are elbowing their way in and staking out claims at weak spots
in the dark nimbus. Looking hopefully to those blue patches, we head down the west coast road towards Corinna,
to rendezvous with the Fat Man. South of Roger River, names on the map become no more than just that -
names on the map. The land is unsullied by any human activity other than roadmaking … and what roads they are!



Long ago, somewhere on the Mereenie Loop Road, Birtles came to terms with corrugations of all frequencies,
and with stones that roll like marbles under his tyres. Mud has never been a problem. Only soft, deep sand is
his Achilles’ heel, but there is none of that here. Away from other traffic, Birtles is in his element.

The dirt and gravel are creating that aforementioned pure enjoyment. The weather is ideal for riding, even better
as we feel we have cheated the Stanleyites’ predictions. We are in that place a dirt bike rider calls heaven.

“Ride till die!” shouts Peggie. No argument there!









The Fatman punt over the Pieman River hauls itself back and forth along a cross-river cable. Far more efficient
than a churning prop and no problem with the current - great idea.







Shorty after the river crossing, the road to Zeehan is tarmacadamed - not such exciting riding
but more opportunity to eyeball the sights.

It’s spectacular country, but jezz, some of the sheilas !!







Strahan has a colourful history that lives on in the West Coast Pioneers Museum. The museum occupies
several of the main street buildings including the Gaiety Theatre and the Masonic Lodge.
“Allow at least four hours,” I am advised.








Museums are a rich source of exciting and useful information. For example, within minutes of entering the
Pioneers Museum, I learn that, of all the earth’s naturally occurring substances, crocoite is the one
chosen to be Tasmania’s mineral emblem. Looks like that squashed echidna a few miles back - probably
tastes better, though.








In the Masonic Lodge we are distressed to find that a Brother, once no doubt On the Level (but obviously no longer
By the Square, has risked being disemboweled at dawn and having his entails strewn in the outgoing tide to
make a beans-spilling tape recording. At the mere push of a button by an uninitiated finger, his gravelly voice
exposes the hitherto Ineffable Sacred Secrets - and does so without requiring so much as a single oath,
blindfolding, or mutilation !








A wave of guilt washes over me for participating in this devaluing of the Masonic traditions of exclusivity and secretiveness
and I hurry to leave, not pausing even to find out why this Dove of Peace is holding a Duck’s Foot in its Beak.

Thankfully, for me, at least this Great Mystery remains Great and Mysterious.








Next, the Gaiety Hall, still with its original stained glass.








Posters around the walls hint at the wide range of entertainment presented here.
There is everything from high-brow opera …








… to crass pugilism.



"Local Champion, Johnny “Gonad” Baxter, struggled against the entrant from Carolina until he
dealt a decisive left to the big man’s weak spot".







And, of course, there was the cinematograph, a tool not only for entertaining, but also for
introducing the soiled masses to worldly developments, in this case, cross-dressing.
How this naughty hanky-panky, thinly disguised as a saga of mining, evaded the strict censorship
of the day is yet another unexplained (and possibly even ineffable) Great Mystery.










Further sections on mining, machinery, electric power generation, motor vehicles and locomotives make
the museum a worthwhile stop. Close on the recommended four hours is spent exploring the place.


Travel really does broaden the mind. From a roadside information board on the way to Queenstown I learn yet another
interesting fact, this time about wombat droppings. Which makes me wonder … what shape is a wombat’s bum?








Queenstown is saddled with the environmental mistakes of its past, but the landscape looks like it is slowly recovering.
Another 20 years and the town will be a thriving center for eco-tourism, those highly visible mistakes its greatest asset.








Up and out of Queenstown, passing (or should that be overtaking) Lake Burbury, my Panasonic Box Brownie
struggles to capture the postcard panorama.





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Eagle-lady

Getting the hang of it
good way of capturing Tassie:clap:. Very funny, glad the ferry is fixed:killingme

Hope you not here now, its been :weather::thunrain rain rain but no thunder. Touch wood
 

penguineer

just luscious

Travel really does broaden the mind. From a roadside information board on the way to Queenstown I learn yet another
interesting fact, this time about wombat droppings. Which makes me wonder … what shape is a wombat’s bum?



Reminds me of a poem.....

[FONT=verdana, Arial,Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1][FONT=Arial,Helvetica]As you splash along the track
Eyes alert and ears pinned back
You might have seen those queer square turds
And thought, if not expressed in words

The stress of such a defecation
Baffles ones' imagination
But it's not done to entertain us -
The Wombat has an oblong anus.

So if your slumber is disturbed
By cries and screams, don't be perturbed.
Eyes closed, teeth clenched and racked with pain
A Wombat's gone and crapped again!!

Cheers!
[/FONT][/SIZE][/FONT]
 

penguineer

just luscious
Reminds me of a poem.....

Good one !!
Wikipedia supplies the answer to why they are cube-shaped ...
... so that the scats, which are used to mark territory, do not roll away.
.

Correct - they try to leave them on things like tufts of grass, logs, rocks, anything above ground level.

I've got plenty of photos of wombats and poo once I get my head around continuing my ride report.......

If you want to see wild wombats in Tas go to Narawntapu national park......

Cheers!
 

glitch

Mapping the next ride...
Staff member
If you want to see wild wombats in Tas go to Narawntapu national park......

Cheers!


Which is exactly where he went.
Used to be called Asbestos Range N.P..... and there used to be wombats galore, even during the day, on the grass flats just north of Browns Creek.
Could see them moving around like big brown bowling balls from Bakers Beach Rd.:eek:
 

robbieb

Tassie Daddy
Which is exactly where he went.
Used to be called Asbestos Range N.P..... and there used to be wombats galore, even during the day, on the grass flats just north of Browns Creek.
Could see them moving around like big brown bowling balls from Bakers Beach Rd.:eek:

About 3 times! And he still didn't see any. Birtles must be mighty fearsome
 
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