Paarl

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We are back at one of our ‘bases’ in the Cape. The boys are having a post-school swim in the estate’s swimming pool. I continue to marvel at the beauty of South Africa.

Having made friends with children at a harvest festival at one of the local vineyards, we followed up with a post school play date with Oscar’s new found friend Zara…at a garden centre/vineyard/piggery! Stunning grounds and gardens with play equipment for the children to safely occupy themselves. Public parks in towns do not as a rule seem to be the place to play…

We returned to Langebaan on the coast on Saturday morning and whilst the boys listened to stories and read books I continued to marvel at what a truly stunning country this is.
For a country where there is a state of paranoia, and a very complicated political (and consequently emotional) environment and where abiding by the road rules is hardly given a second thought it is an incredible place to drive. The roads are wide and fast. Wide hard shoulders means that drivers pull over onto them to allow you to pass/over take. You flash your lights to say thank you, and they flash to acknowledge you. Vehicles coming the opposite direction, if finding you on their side of the road don’t honk horns and gesticulate whilst shouting obscenities (as in Australia) but they move over towards the hard shoulder so that everyone can get through and get on with the day.

People pay attention when driving over here – you have to. I was marvelling at this as I drove at 130km/hour along the back road – not fast enough to catch up the pickup/ute/bukkie half a kilometre ahead of me, but clearly not fast enough for the Audi that came flying up behind and past me!

Meanwhile the rolling fields stretched for miles around me, wheat fields combined and in the process of being cleared of straw bales, cattle and sheep (with ostriches or donkeys grazing alongside them to protect the stock from African wild cats). It is a country of breath taking beauty.

Tassie Deep South: Recherche Bay

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Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay
Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay
Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay
Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay
Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay
Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay
Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay
Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay
Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay
Cockle Creek, Recherche Bay

It looks cold doesn’t it? Well believe me, it was! We spent the long weekend at a B&B in Geeveston (Bears over the mountain). It was a great location in the wilderness of Southern Tasmania. The landscape was breath-taking. It really felt like frontier country. And it felt just a wee bit cold to us.
We travelled to the ‘end of the road’. We were at the southern most tip of Australia. We were now closer to Antartica than to Cairns. And that’s what it felt like. The water was crystal clear but looked positively freezing. The bays were protected and peaceful. Lots of (clearly very tough) families were having their last bit of the summer holidays camping down in this stunning countryside, gathered around roaring camp fires…and then we spotted…a little girl trotting across to the beach in her swimmers with a boogie board under her arm (??really!) and low and behold an ice-cream van! Even if we hadn’t just been sailing the Queensland coast I would still thought it was a tad chilly for swimmers and a dip in the waters of what is basically the southern ocean. That aside it was a magical place.
The whale sculpture is in recognition of the whaling history. During the 1830s there were 4 whaling stations at Cockle Creek. During the 1840s the Crown granted seven leases for the establishment of bay whaling stations in Recherche Bay. But whales had been hunted with pregnant cows and calves indiscriminately slaughtered. They apparently slaughtered the calves first so that the cows would wait around the bay and cry for their young, and then be slaughtered too. Tragic – but a beautiful sculpture.

Eighteen Hill Street, Hobart

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Eighteen Hill Street, Hobart
Eighteen Hill Street, Hobart
Eighteen Hill Street, Hobart
Eighteen Hill Street, Hobart

Joy! We arrived in Hobart and took ourselves off to our accommodation. There was the incident at the airport where I whinged about the car that the rental car had arranged for us, and then negotiated a bigger car, probably won the award for the customer from hell for the day, and basically embarrassed poor Gerhard – but I’ll gloss over that. Oh, and poor Hugo picked up the bug that Oscar had had a few days earlier and (without exaggerating) vomitted from Mooloolaba to Hobart. Poor child.
All that aside…it was a great day. We arrived at our quaint cottage, installed the boys on the pull-out settee infront of the television and popped off to the gorgeous Italian around the corner, walked around the streets overlooking the harbour (so quiet we literally whispered as we walked so as not to disturb the peace) and fell in love with Hobart.
We watched the sun set on Mount Wellington, and the early morning light on the mountain from our kitchen window. It was spectacular.
We spent our time in Hobart finding our bearings and visiting Hobart and a really very good museum – at least, I think we did…Hugo’s bug got me too. Next man down. However, I was back on form for the Saturday morning markets at Salamanca – a must when in Hobart.