Day 295: Cruising with Retirees Through Maquarie Harbor, Sarah Island + Gordon River
It’s so Norway-ish down here. Different hemispheres, very similar feelings. On and off rain all day, shimmering blue waters, enormously tall pine forests with fern/moss floors. Crisp and clean.
Today we boarded a large boat, similar to our snorkeling vessel, for a day-long outing to see Macquarie Harbor, Sarah Island and the Gordon River.
The boat was only about 10% full. Every single other passenger was over 75. Most in their 80s. All Tasmanian or from other Australian states.
The two big tourism focuses for this part of the planet: Brutal convict colonial history and unique temperate rainforest, which is a UNESCO world heritage site.
I’m reading “The Fatal Shore,” the book detailing Australia’s convict history. It’s an ugly read, with Tasmania featuring prominently in its darkest chapters, so I was curious to see.
The cruise took us to see the “Gates of Hell,” which is the narrow passage exiting the harbor into open ocean. We ventured up to peek out at the edge, and were amazed to see/feel the stark difference in water. The waves were ferocious and the wind insane out there. And this was a calm day! Can you imagine sailing out into that, with an eight-month voyage to London ahead of you?
We turned back to calmer waters and visited Sarah Island, an Alcatraz for repeat offenders — those sent to Australia from London as punishment, then sent to Tasmania from Australia because they broke the law while in prison.
Interestingly, this is the second island prison we’ve been to this year, with Robben Island in South Africa being the first.
Despite its sinister history, the island’s tour was hilarious. We and all the octogenarians were led by a 20-something guide who had a whole memorized, dramatic “storytelling” spiel. Problem was, she spoke waaaay too fast, and in such a thick accent that …no one had an effing clue what was going on.
A cute grandpa in a tweed cap even chided her about halfway through, telling her she needed to slow down. She did not. That same fellow spent the rest of the tour and cruise with a befuddled look on his face, commiserating with others about how he couldn’t “make out what the young lady’s saying.”
My drawing of the scene:
Because Willa and James have adopted a zero-tolerance approach to tours, they actively ignored the guide. Frustrating and embarrassing obviously, but in this case I kind of didn’t blame them.
No idea what she’s saying. 
Ruins of an oven 
Ruins of a prison building
Also it was pouring rain.
Back on the boat we warmed up/dried out with tea and muffins for the ride to our next stop: A self-guided walk in the rainforest..
This was very cool. It’s just so remote, so old, so hauntingly beautiful where we are.
Back on the boat we turned to cruise the Gordon River as we ate some buffet lunch. This part of the cruise is probably a lot more spectacular when the panoramic windows aren’t blocked with constant downpour as they were today. Like going through a car wash with no windshield wipers. Wulp!
To pass some time we went up to the captain’s wheelhouse to say hi and check it out (passengers are encouraged to do so). The captain was about 27. He gave James a skipper hat and said, “Here you go, miss!” (Haha, the second person today to think James was a girl. A passing lady earlier had smiled at the kids and said, “Such cute girls.” I don’t think James heard/registered either.)
Captain feeling awkward
During breaks in the rain we’d try to step out on to the decks. The air here is so clean for the same reason the ocean waves are so massive: Both are coming all the way from Patagonia, uninterrupted. As in, from the east, under Africa…not the other way. Do you have any idea how far away that is???? The ocean is terrifyingly huge.
Plus, the air gets filtered through untouched rainforest. A treat for the lungs and nostrils!
This rainforest is also home to the world’s second oldest trees: the Huon Pines (N. America’s Redwoods are the oldest). Even felled Huons don’t age/rot.
We could tell you a lot about the Huons because there was a 1.5 hour-long documentary about them and the history of the local “piners” that was broadcast on the boat as we cruised after lunch.
Teddy and Willa wouldn’t know that, though, because they were asleep (along with all the other grandpas onboard). James and I played chess a bunch, then he read Ook and Gluck while I read my own book.
The cruise just kept going and going, the rain falling and falling. We were very ready to get off. James needed to run around but….we had a two-hour drive ahead of us.
Daylong boat cruise + road tripping is a tough combo for a five-year-old boy, we realized. Having safari flashbacks, when he was penned up all day.
But at last we did hit the road.
In two hours of rainforest driving, some of it on gravel 1.5-lane roads, we passed maaaaybe four cars. But look at this sky!
The kids were okay but a little annoying. At one point James, in response to getting scolded for not listening, whined to us, “How come you’re never mean to each other??” Haha, it’s so true. We aren’t!
Eventually we reached the one-car river “barge” that transports guests and campers to the Corinna Wilderness Experience. You push the button, like a doorbell, to alert some guy on the far bank that you’re there and ready to cross.
If we thought the last two stops were remote, we had no idea what we were in for next.
A prospector in the 1890s described this “town” as “The very roughest place it has been my experience to strike.” Not much has changed over the last 130 years!
The main lodge and surrounding cabins look like a movie set, or like Frontierland at Disney. Except not one single thing has been renovated in 100 years. It is completely authentic.
Our house was originally the Old Pub belonging to the original Corinna Hotel, opened in 1895. According to a flyer in our house, it was the site of a funeral party in 1897 (100 men came to mourn a beloved somebody who’d died here) that went down in Corinna’s history as one of the biggest shindigs of all time. A local clergyman had to seize the keys and take law into his own hands and shut down the pub. Ha!
This place looks like a diorama in a pioneer museum — and we get to sleep in it!! I LOVE DIORAMAS!! Tiny doors, tiny ceilings, rickety, warped ceilings, no heat, no AC, no TV, no phone, and an outdoor bathroom. A tiny bear’s house. I’m obsessed.
Oh, and no wifi — sorry for the break.
Oh! And waiting for us in the backyard was a pademelon, a local type of wallaby. A stout, gray furball nibbling grass — with a baby in her pouch! She was not intimidated by us at all. Judging by the droppings, that’s her spot.
First order of business was building a fire. This was going to be my job. I am the fire lady.
We enjoyed relaxing in our little house for a bit.
Yahtzee
We ate dinner in the main lodge. There were two other tables of Australian guests. Our waitress was a 20-something French chick. We had to ask: How the hell did she end up here on the end of the earth?? She got placed by a recruitment agency for a temporary just-here-to-learn-English-type visa and didn’t realize it was as remote as it is. But she likes it.
We spent dinner regaling kids with famous Bensfield and Sullivan family stories. Mine included The Time Aunt Julia Jammed a Pencil Into the Car Ignition While Grammie Was in the Safeway, The Time I (or Was it Aunt Julia?) Slammed Uncle Cope’s Buttcheek in the Car Door, The Time I Shoved Aunt Julia to the Ground in a Fight for Shotgun And Thought I Was Hot Shit But Then Turned Around and Walked Right Into a Tree, The Time I Got Locked in the Kindergarten Bathroom, The Time Aunt Julia Pretended to Be a Waitress and Put All The Pie Slice Plates on Her Outstretched Arms And Then Dropped Them on The Back Patio Breaking All The Plates and Ruining Dessert, etc. etc. These were all big hits.
MISC:
Before we lost wifi, we showed the nerds a YouTube clip from Crocodile Dundee — the one where a mugger in NYC tries to take Mick’s wallet and he utters the famous line, “That’s not a knoyfe….THAT’S a knoyfe.” It was a huge hit. I think James has performed the scene as a one-man show at least two dozen times since. His Aussie accent needs work, though.
We are struggling anew with our What Happens When We Get Back life decisions. Neither of us has a clue what we want to do professionally. Much of Tasmanian road tripping is therefore consumed with those conversations. On the one hand, it’s annoying because it means we’re not that present in this moment, but it’s also kind of nice to have the headspace to talk everything out with hours of road ahead of us (ie, we’re not in a van with a tour guide or overprogrammed right now).What to do? Where to live? Move right away to NYC? Hold off? Write a book? Start a new company? Things we thought were totally planned and buttoned up…are getting a second look. Stay tuned.
