Previous:
http://www.austouring.com/forum/showthread.php?t=807
Tassie...the Western Explorer.
Similar to the Cape-Tribulation-Bloomfield Road in North Queensland, it's been dozed through parliament first, and then dozed through the bush after… despite heavy opposition, in both instances.
It's a remote road through an incredibly beautiful part of Tassie, no Maccas, no mobile phones, no Roadhouses…
It finishes at Corinna on the Pieman River, where a small barge takes vehicles across for the last 12km of dirt, then another 35km to Zeehan.
Let the pics do the talking:
In a few words: If you ever have the chance and the weather conditions...DO IT.
It's a magic piece of the world.The guy on the barge is into Dukes and the talk was distracting from the great scenery, the water like oil, the bush thick and lush.
Even the short ride out the other side to the blacktop was special.
I don't want to keep on raving, there's more to come.
Buoyed by the experience, we took the bitumen towards Zeehan, turning off a short stretch later towards the coast at Granville Harbour. While down at the beach, Garry asked around the locals for the track south to Trial Harbour, along the coast, that showed on the map: Yeaaah, mate, no worries, you'll be right…
Off we went then, and things turned from bad to worse very quickly.
It's a rough 4WD track, the colour of the ground changing every 20 meters, boghole after boghole, not really the terrain for our style of heavily loaded trailies.
We kept going for some klicks, then it turned really rough and Ingo and I started to get a bit nervous.
That creek crossing finally got things undone, Garry barreled through it with some artistic body-moves and made it up the other side. His heavy luggage was flopping around like a gas filled balloon, I was fearing for our homemade racks.
I was more cautious, trying to avoid a fall, stalled in the creek, tried to get going again a few times, finally climbed out, just to come down like a sack-of-shit on the next ledge. A big rock stopped the fall with a thump, the left shoulder went numb instantly.
With plenty of help I got out from under the bike, it was curtains for me.
Also no way to get the Peg through this without major damage, Ingo and I turned back, Garry went on for more of the same (and worse), but made it to Zeehan without damage or injury.
On the way back Ingo dumped the heavy Peg on a rough uphiller, adding more battle-scars to the bike along the right-hand side. Back from Granville Harbour we made our ways along the sealed roads south to Zeehan, stopping for a drink, just as Garry pulled into town.
We decided to call it quits and found a unit out the back of the pub.
The girl behind the counter proved to be the daughter of the local welder, handy, since the rack on the XT had crumbled and needed urgent repairs. Some shopping also procured a tube of Deep Heat.
Tonight I got the double bed
, but it was a sleepless night, each ripple over the last 40km had sent sharp stabs of pain through the shoulder and chest.
More sunshine the next morning, off to the welders for me; an hour later the rack was fixed at a cost of $10 while I made the coffee during proceedings…
Ingo and Garry were itching for more dirt roads, south to Strahan we went, those 2 taking the turnoff to Braddon Point, I pulled into Strahan, not up for any dirt or even riding at all.
The Café proved to be the place to be, the sun belting down hard and places in the shade at a premium.
An elderly couple sitting at one of the tables finally had mercy and invited me over into the shade.
After some talking they proved to be a couple of medics (Surgeon and Physio) and checked out the shoulder right there and then: looks heavily bruised, nothing broken...the prodding made me drown in silent tears.
Another muggacino and the Dommi and Peg rolled into town...ready for the way to Queenstown, since beds for hire were scarce in Strahan. What a ripper of a road...and the views to boot.
After making quarters in Queenstown and dumping the gear, Ingo and Garry went out for a ride south to Lake Burburry, I stayed in town, did some shopping, tried to get the contents of the flash-cards transferred to CD (no luck) and checked out the eateries.
The walking seemed to do the shoulder some good.
Ingo and Garry came back raving about the ride and what they'd seen. Their plans were for a road-ride the next day, via Tullah and Reece Dam and once more to Trial Harbour. Too much for me, so I decided to give their afternoon-delights a try and go south the next day.
Checking out roads?? NEVER QUIT !!
Another bright and clear morning made me leave early, leaving the other 2 to their slumber. Up the
Mountain towards Derwent Bridge, overlooking the valley with it's early morning fog still settled low and
looking like cotton wool framed by the rugged mountain backdrop.
Then down into town again, veering
south, the road climbing to Mt. Huxley and some breathtaking views.
Some nice long sweepers on smooth asphalt down to the shores of Lake Burbury, some talk with the people camping there and a walk across the dam-wall and back set the mood for the day.
Onto some good dirt which narrowed after some kilometers, finishing in a single-lane timber bridge next to the signage "World Heritage Area". Another 10km and the road forked left, up Mt. McCall, another great viewpoint.
Then back to the last fork and onto the "4WD only" track, as marked on the map.
It proved to be an easy one, very damp and slippery, underneath a dark and cool rainforest-canopy.
The road ended after 5km in a small car park, from here it was an 11km return walk, following an old railway terrace.
Around the late 1800s, a second mining company had sprung up in Queenstown and built a railway from the Kelly Basin on Macquarie Harbour to Queenstown. It had it's own brick-kilns close to the beach and even a small township.
Apparently it was a worthwhile enterprise for some 50 years, then it folded.
The track follows the old terrace which parallels the river for some time, before it veers off towards the small bay.
The 800ft long jetty has long gone, National Parks has built a new one to service the remote campground at the site of the old township.
All sorts of remnants are dotted along the way, the old brick-kilns, ruins of the bakery, water tanks, boilers, rolls of thick steel-cable, an overgrown Pullman carriage, footings, bridges…what a great place to poke around for a while and keep finding bits and pieces of yesteryear.
What started as a short snoop-around finished up a 6 hour return trip, partially due to a chance meeting with a ranger who took me across the bay to the old Sarah-Island penal settlement, another historic site of some gruesome ruins.
Along the way back I followed the advice and went water-sliding down the small rapids and a for swim in the rock pool.
What a day ! The ride home was slooow, there was too much to chew-over, the late afternoon mercifully growing cooler.
Saturday night and Queenstown was swinging, well...the bar, at least, the Hawaiian-Party was packed by the 16-20yo crowd, time to get to bed.
The shoulder got better during the day, the longish walk seemed to have done more good.
More sunshine the next morning, we're off to meet up with Tim in Wayatinah, the day's target of the Hobart Ulysses crowd (of 20 or so). Along the A10 towards Hobart, the meet-up proves perfect, right on time and target. I'm on the Peg now, the higher bars and reduced drag on the shoulders by the fairing make it more comfortable to ride.
After some "Hello's" we're off again, now Tim's leading the way. He's showing us some awesome backroads, zig-zagging our way to his place south of Hobart for the night. Dirt, sealed, dirt, sealed, dirt again, it never seems to stop.
With 200m to go on the last dirt bit, there's a lefthander coming up. I can see the others already stopped at the next T-junction, waiting for me.
Onto the left "slope" of the road to hook-in, tap the rear brake, a little slip at the back, then the front, foot down...I'm drifting across the humped centre of the road at the apex, slowly sliding towards the grassy shoulder on the right as I go, both wheels hook in solidly, I'm still up...I made it...BANG, SCRAPE, F*$#CK. Front wheel washout as I tried to climb back out of the berm onto the hardpack, and right onto the same shoulder again, shiiiite.
This time the Peg got trowelled on the left, damage only scratches on the fairing and the tip of the gearlever is missing.
The others help me with getting back upright again, damn it, the left foot copped something as well.
We're off to Tim's place for a great bbq, some drinks and plenty of talk. The shoulder is giving me hell, the ankle blows up during the night.
Chateau Tim:
Sorry guys, but that's the end for me, time to re-arrange the ferry bookings.
I leave for Devonport the next morning, Ingo and Garry are off to Bruny Island for more fun.
The ride north is a mongrel, the strong headwind, then a dust storm followed by the only hour of rain this far don't make it easy. We drilled a hole through the remains of the gearlever and fixed a longish bolt to it, at least changing gears is better than on the previous afternoon.
The bakery in Ross is still worth a Cappuccino and late breakfast, great stuff.
Hanging around Devonport is not much fun, at least the mountains are shrouded by low clouds and don't beckon with all those twisties.
I'll be back, there's more great stuff in them thar hills.
What an incredible run of weather, exceptional, never had anything like it, particularly the prolonged stint of sunshine in the west.
If you've never been over there, GO! NOW!!
The one that sums it up:
Hmmm, someone told me about this road, that…(mumble, scratch head...where's that north-west corner map?)
http://www.austouring.com/forum/showthread.php?t=807
Tassie...the Western Explorer.
Similar to the Cape-Tribulation-Bloomfield Road in North Queensland, it's been dozed through parliament first, and then dozed through the bush after… despite heavy opposition, in both instances.
It's a remote road through an incredibly beautiful part of Tassie, no Maccas, no mobile phones, no Roadhouses…
It finishes at Corinna on the Pieman River, where a small barge takes vehicles across for the last 12km of dirt, then another 35km to Zeehan.
Let the pics do the talking:
In a few words: If you ever have the chance and the weather conditions...DO IT.
It's a magic piece of the world.The guy on the barge is into Dukes and the talk was distracting from the great scenery, the water like oil, the bush thick and lush.
Even the short ride out the other side to the blacktop was special.
I don't want to keep on raving, there's more to come.
Buoyed by the experience, we took the bitumen towards Zeehan, turning off a short stretch later towards the coast at Granville Harbour. While down at the beach, Garry asked around the locals for the track south to Trial Harbour, along the coast, that showed on the map: Yeaaah, mate, no worries, you'll be right…
Off we went then, and things turned from bad to worse very quickly.
It's a rough 4WD track, the colour of the ground changing every 20 meters, boghole after boghole, not really the terrain for our style of heavily loaded trailies.
We kept going for some klicks, then it turned really rough and Ingo and I started to get a bit nervous.
That creek crossing finally got things undone, Garry barreled through it with some artistic body-moves and made it up the other side. His heavy luggage was flopping around like a gas filled balloon, I was fearing for our homemade racks.
I was more cautious, trying to avoid a fall, stalled in the creek, tried to get going again a few times, finally climbed out, just to come down like a sack-of-shit on the next ledge. A big rock stopped the fall with a thump, the left shoulder went numb instantly.
With plenty of help I got out from under the bike, it was curtains for me.
Also no way to get the Peg through this without major damage, Ingo and I turned back, Garry went on for more of the same (and worse), but made it to Zeehan without damage or injury.
On the way back Ingo dumped the heavy Peg on a rough uphiller, adding more battle-scars to the bike along the right-hand side. Back from Granville Harbour we made our ways along the sealed roads south to Zeehan, stopping for a drink, just as Garry pulled into town.
We decided to call it quits and found a unit out the back of the pub.
The girl behind the counter proved to be the daughter of the local welder, handy, since the rack on the XT had crumbled and needed urgent repairs. Some shopping also procured a tube of Deep Heat.
Tonight I got the double bed
, but it was a sleepless night, each ripple over the last 40km had sent sharp stabs of pain through the shoulder and chest.More sunshine the next morning, off to the welders for me; an hour later the rack was fixed at a cost of $10 while I made the coffee during proceedings…
Ingo and Garry were itching for more dirt roads, south to Strahan we went, those 2 taking the turnoff to Braddon Point, I pulled into Strahan, not up for any dirt or even riding at all.
The Café proved to be the place to be, the sun belting down hard and places in the shade at a premium.
An elderly couple sitting at one of the tables finally had mercy and invited me over into the shade.
After some talking they proved to be a couple of medics (Surgeon and Physio) and checked out the shoulder right there and then: looks heavily bruised, nothing broken...the prodding made me drown in silent tears.
Another muggacino and the Dommi and Peg rolled into town...ready for the way to Queenstown, since beds for hire were scarce in Strahan. What a ripper of a road...and the views to boot.
After making quarters in Queenstown and dumping the gear, Ingo and Garry went out for a ride south to Lake Burburry, I stayed in town, did some shopping, tried to get the contents of the flash-cards transferred to CD (no luck) and checked out the eateries.
The walking seemed to do the shoulder some good.
Ingo and Garry came back raving about the ride and what they'd seen. Their plans were for a road-ride the next day, via Tullah and Reece Dam and once more to Trial Harbour. Too much for me, so I decided to give their afternoon-delights a try and go south the next day.
Checking out roads?? NEVER QUIT !!
Another bright and clear morning made me leave early, leaving the other 2 to their slumber. Up the
Mountain towards Derwent Bridge, overlooking the valley with it's early morning fog still settled low and
looking like cotton wool framed by the rugged mountain backdrop.
Then down into town again, veering
south, the road climbing to Mt. Huxley and some breathtaking views.
Some nice long sweepers on smooth asphalt down to the shores of Lake Burbury, some talk with the people camping there and a walk across the dam-wall and back set the mood for the day.
Onto some good dirt which narrowed after some kilometers, finishing in a single-lane timber bridge next to the signage "World Heritage Area". Another 10km and the road forked left, up Mt. McCall, another great viewpoint.
Then back to the last fork and onto the "4WD only" track, as marked on the map.
It proved to be an easy one, very damp and slippery, underneath a dark and cool rainforest-canopy.
The road ended after 5km in a small car park, from here it was an 11km return walk, following an old railway terrace.
Around the late 1800s, a second mining company had sprung up in Queenstown and built a railway from the Kelly Basin on Macquarie Harbour to Queenstown. It had it's own brick-kilns close to the beach and even a small township.
Apparently it was a worthwhile enterprise for some 50 years, then it folded.
The track follows the old terrace which parallels the river for some time, before it veers off towards the small bay.
The 800ft long jetty has long gone, National Parks has built a new one to service the remote campground at the site of the old township.
All sorts of remnants are dotted along the way, the old brick-kilns, ruins of the bakery, water tanks, boilers, rolls of thick steel-cable, an overgrown Pullman carriage, footings, bridges…what a great place to poke around for a while and keep finding bits and pieces of yesteryear.
What started as a short snoop-around finished up a 6 hour return trip, partially due to a chance meeting with a ranger who took me across the bay to the old Sarah-Island penal settlement, another historic site of some gruesome ruins.
Along the way back I followed the advice and went water-sliding down the small rapids and a for swim in the rock pool.
What a day ! The ride home was slooow, there was too much to chew-over, the late afternoon mercifully growing cooler.
Saturday night and Queenstown was swinging, well...the bar, at least, the Hawaiian-Party was packed by the 16-20yo crowd, time to get to bed.
The shoulder got better during the day, the longish walk seemed to have done more good.
More sunshine the next morning, we're off to meet up with Tim in Wayatinah, the day's target of the Hobart Ulysses crowd (of 20 or so). Along the A10 towards Hobart, the meet-up proves perfect, right on time and target. I'm on the Peg now, the higher bars and reduced drag on the shoulders by the fairing make it more comfortable to ride.
After some "Hello's" we're off again, now Tim's leading the way. He's showing us some awesome backroads, zig-zagging our way to his place south of Hobart for the night. Dirt, sealed, dirt, sealed, dirt again, it never seems to stop.
With 200m to go on the last dirt bit, there's a lefthander coming up. I can see the others already stopped at the next T-junction, waiting for me.
Onto the left "slope" of the road to hook-in, tap the rear brake, a little slip at the back, then the front, foot down...I'm drifting across the humped centre of the road at the apex, slowly sliding towards the grassy shoulder on the right as I go, both wheels hook in solidly, I'm still up...I made it...BANG, SCRAPE, F*$#CK. Front wheel washout as I tried to climb back out of the berm onto the hardpack, and right onto the same shoulder again, shiiiite.
This time the Peg got trowelled on the left, damage only scratches on the fairing and the tip of the gearlever is missing.
The others help me with getting back upright again, damn it, the left foot copped something as well.
We're off to Tim's place for a great bbq, some drinks and plenty of talk. The shoulder is giving me hell, the ankle blows up during the night.
Chateau Tim:
Sorry guys, but that's the end for me, time to re-arrange the ferry bookings.
I leave for Devonport the next morning, Ingo and Garry are off to Bruny Island for more fun.
The ride north is a mongrel, the strong headwind, then a dust storm followed by the only hour of rain this far don't make it easy. We drilled a hole through the remains of the gearlever and fixed a longish bolt to it, at least changing gears is better than on the previous afternoon.
The bakery in Ross is still worth a Cappuccino and late breakfast, great stuff.
Hanging around Devonport is not much fun, at least the mountains are shrouded by low clouds and don't beckon with all those twisties.
I'll be back, there's more great stuff in them thar hills.
What an incredible run of weather, exceptional, never had anything like it, particularly the prolonged stint of sunshine in the west.
If you've never been over there, GO! NOW!!
The one that sums it up:
Hmmm, someone told me about this road, that…(mumble, scratch head...where's that north-west corner map?)
