Day 13 5 March 2010 Perth

That was quick, you may say, but this Perth is not in WA, it is near Launceston, and we headed there to get out of the weather at a B&B. Accommodation on George by Dianne is highly recommended. Anything whatever you might want for your comfort or convenience, and Dianne has thought of it and supplied it. That night as we smugly slept in our soft bed under our soft doona and not in our tent, the heavens opened and it bucketed down all night.

En route to Perth, we visited some great places. First up was Wall in the Wilderness, a sculpture gallery where Greg Duncan is five years into a ten year project to carve the history of of the development of the region into massive huon pine panels. This beautiful, powerful work is part of a varied and reknowned body of work that expresses Greg's response to Tasmania's history. Particularly moving are his poignant sculptures of what little shreds and traces remain of the thylacine. The message we took from this was to be more mindful of what is happening, right now, to our endangered species.

On a more prosaic level, we visited the Tasmanian Honey Factory and stocked up on honey, made by the busy bees from leatherwood and also lavender. Had lunch in fishin' territory, at the Great Lakes Hotel, where the walls sport deer heads and photos of trout. Deep fried something, of course. And no, we don't do espresso. Like a suprisingly large number of Tasmanian tourist destinations. They need a bit of Melbournization in the coffee department around here. Then on past the craggy Sandbanks tiers, first of the Great Western Tiers, designed by nature to evoke shock and awe in the observer.

Tasmania has a major story to tell about hydroelectricity. Apparently it still produces more hydro power than it needs. Poatina used to be a hydro town, it is described as “Poatina Resort” but actually it is an isolated timewarp of the sixties, now owned by a Christian outfit, Fusion International. It is populated by young people being rehabilitated from whatever drug or emotional messes they were in, their caseworkers, and a number of no doubt puzzled elderly long-term residents who have been there since it was a company town. We stopped for coffee and were served an excellent flat white by a clean-cut and excessively attentive young rehabilitatee, whose past was only betrayed by his nose piercings.