Tazzie

Guess where?


Greetings from Oz. I've been cycle touring in Tasmania for almost two weeks now. I've ridden from Hobart up the east coast to St. Helens and across the north to Devonport. That's about 700km so far, with about 600km to go. All told, it'll be about the distance from New York to Chicago. Wow, put in those terms, it seems a lot further than it feels.

Up to yesterday, Brody has been traveling with me, but he decided it was time to go home after so long away and hopped on the ferry to Melbourne. I can't blame him. I love to travel and am having a great time, but I feel the pangs of homesickness regularly also. I can't wait to get to Italy where I get to spend ten days with Brett and Andrea. Until then, I'll have to be content to soak up sun in Bali and Thailand. I guess that'll be OK.

The sun in Tazzie has been elusive. So far the tour has been plagued with clouds, occasional rain, and demoralizing headwinds. The wind actually switched from northerly to westerly as soon as we rounded the bend in St. Helens. And, believe it or not, when I turn south in two days, it is forecasted to shift against me again! Unreal.

I wish I could say that the scenery here is as spectacular as the wind, but though Tazzie is pretty, it's not nearly as grand as New Zealand. So far it has consisted of rolling wooded or pastured hills, broken occasionally by views of the Tasman Sea and poppy fields. I'm not too knowledgeable on opium production, but I'm pretty sure they're poppy fields because the signs say "Strictly No Trespassing, Illegal use of crop may result in DEATH." I'll have to get a picture if I see another.

The highlight so far has been Maria Island, which is a reserve of grass and gum (eucalyptus) trees that is chock full of critters. We cycled a sandy, rocky road passed fields of wombats:


and kangaroos:


We camped near a beach and watched the sun set:


Further up the coast at Wineglass Bay, a broad beach of bleached white sand and equally broad and bleached white tourists, we saw a wallaby with a joey in her pouch:


Further still, we reached the Bay of Fires, named for the number of Aboriginal campfires seen burning along the coast, not for the lichen-covered rocks that color the headlands between beaches:




Riding along the north has been less scenic, but I'm hoping the more mountainous west will offer better stimuli for the eyes, and not just challenge to the legs. And more headwinds...