9th Light - Bridport to Bay of Fires
We had planned to visit Bridestowe Lavender Farm today on the off chance their harvest would be delayed. Usually done around early March, a quick check of their website unfortunately confirmed they were right on schedule. As touring photographers, the sweeping fields of purple bloom was a major drawcard, so with that now unavailable we decided to cancel that portion of our travels.
Instead, we took the saved time to lounge around camp longer than normal and stroll through the quaint little village that is Bridport. Settled in 1833, the town experienced a 20 year boom in 1869 with the discovery of gold and tin around the area. Fishing, a timber mill and the railway line saw an influx of families in the 1910’s and today remains a popular holiday destination with tourism the towns lifeblood.
A unique aspect of Bridport is that the northern half of streets have male names, and southern streets have female names. We’re not entirely sure how that would pass today in this gender fluid world we live in, but is a rather quirky little titbit we’ve not heard of in other towns.
Anderson Bay, Tasmania
Anthony was fuelled up and we headed south east to visit Mt Paris Dam. Between Branxton and Derby, and only a short drive from the highway along logging roads etched through gorgeous Eucalypus, Myrtle and Blackwood trees, this bizarrely unique dam stands oddly out of place in a forest slowly reclaiming the territory. Built entirely by hand in 1935, the dam held water for the local tin mining company 11kms away. Drying up in the 70’s, large holes were blasted through the walls in 1985 allowing the Cascade River to again flow freely. This concrete megalith, decaying and hidden among thick vegetation, was like an Inca temple waiting to be discovered.
Rejoining the Tasman Hwy for another 30 minutes, we left again at Pyengana to lunch at the world famous, well, Tasmanian famous, well, regionally famous Pub In The Paddock. This distinctive establishment will never be accused of false advertising. It is literally a pub in the middle of a paddock! No other building, no township, just a pub in a paddock. But boy was the place chockers! We dined on pub staples of steak sandwiches and veal parmigiana accompanied by a few cold ones. The pub is like many others but for one distinct quirkism. They posses a beer swilling pig, Pricilla, who strolls the grounds waiting for someone to shout her. By the time we arrived she had unfortunately consumed her daily quota, so it was left to Fatpap to assume the mantle of beer swilling pig.
On the road out we stopped again at the Pyengana Cheese Company to sample their wares. The cows in this region are renowned for their milk production, and consequently the cheeses produced from this artisan maker are among the countries finest. A quarter wheel and numerous slices of Mt Elephant Fudge joined us for the return journey from the valley.
Bloated, we trekked the last 30 minutes to the township of St Helens located on the southern tip of the Bay of Fires. As we were nearing the eastern coast, and again our planned sun filled section of the trip, it of course starting raining! Reminiscent of Eden and Bermagui, the winds whipped off the rolling swell buffering Anthony dispute his girth.
We made camp at Jeannerete Beach in the Bay of Fires Conservation area tucked away from the conditions as best we could. After months anticipating a visit to this iconic part of the state, Fatpap braved the weather with an ill-conceived notion of landing some bangers. He returned soaking wet and banger-less, and promptly opened a wine to drown his sorrows.
Lease 65 oysters at Moulting Bay on the road in, have spent their careers endeavouring to grow the perfect oyster. It took us 18 tries, but believe they have achieved their goal and are now free to retire. We included a lobster and Taswegian Riesling to these and made the perfect dinner despite the now worsening weather outside.
Jeanerete Beach, Bay of Fires