From a bar on the back deck, we watched the Melbourne skyline dwindle.
We had a good passage across the strait, but we arrived into some serious rain.
While not quite forty days and nights, our new tent (and our patience for camping) was really put to the test.
The rain also thwarted some of our travel plans, cutting the roads ahead of us.
In one spot, over 100 metres of tar was lifted and deposited beside the roadway.
When we eventually reached the east coast, we got a call. "Do you remember us from Marlgu Billabong?" A couple we'd met some three and a half thousand kilometers away and six months ago had seen us driving past. Even more remarkable, they still had our business card! Over lunch we discussed the star finch that introduced us, and the birds of Tasmania. Ted, being at least as opinionated as Bill, shared with us more of his thoughts about the environmental vandalism that is rife in Tassie. (Why are we woodchipping old growth forests, or farming carnivores like salmon?)
We decided to use a similar approach to the one that we used in WA last year, driving around checking things out, looking for areas where services were sparse.
After heading east we turned south, visiting Online Access Centres along the way.
They are the local equivalent of Telecentres, and provide quick insight into the local communities.
When the weekend arrived, we stopped off in Freycinet National Park.
There we spotted a couple of endemic Tasmanian birds, the green parrot and the yellow wattle bird.
Even though the weather was beginning to clear in some parts, we seemed to be following the bad weather.
In the new week we headed south past Hobart into the Huon Valley, then west up the Derwent and through the Midlands.
The Midlands is a brown, treeless and desolate area, reminiscent of Cooma in NSW.
What few trees were not felled by the early settlers, have succumb to die back.
The town of Ross was a pleasant surprise, with large numbers of old stone buildings, including the pub, churches and many homes.
Unlike much of the mainland, Tasmania seems to have done a remarkable job of retaining a lot of its old architecture.
(How did they manage to avoid the cultural vandalism of the seventies?)
A former workmate suggested that we get in touch with Sitel, as they were having difficulty finding code cutters, so we returned to Devonport for a quick chat with them. From there we headed west, and then south. The town of Waratah provided us with a very pleasant surprise. On an evening walk past the lakes near the campground, we spotted dozens of platypus (our first ever sighting in the wild). From there it was on to Strahan, then Lake St Clair for the weekend, where we spotted our first quoll.
Our weekend stop in the Cradle Mountain Lake St Clair National Park provided us with our first Tassie job, a local tourist operator with hardware and network problems.
We also took the opportunity to do the Mt Rufus loop hike.
The number of vegetation communities, and the stark differences between them, makes the 18km hike well worth the effort.
After visiting a few more access centres, it was back to Devonport for another chat with Sitel. With things looking quite positive on that front, we began to investigate more appropriate short term accommodations. The promised offer failed to materialise, so we rejected a fine looking furnished flat, and continued our travels.
Our research tour was productive, but disappointing.
It quickly became apparent that our work prospects in this state were quite limited.
Unlike so many other mainland states, Tasmania picked up the ball the federal government dropped, and did it well.
When the federal Networking The Nation seed funding ran out, they took over the challenge, enhancing the centres and integrating them with a variety of education opportunities.
They even engage a range of volunteers to ensure high staffing levels.
Consequently, Tasmanians have the best telecentres we have seen anywhere in the country.
Feeling a little disheartened, we decided to take a little time off and actually see a few of the sights. We headed into the far north east, exploring the beautiful coastline, and Mt William National Park. Making our way slowly south, we found a magnificent campground on the banks of Deep Creek. After exploring the top end of the Bay Of Fires (a name that stands testament to our slaughter of our indigenous citizens), we headed down to Ansons Bay for a kayak on Ansons River.
From there we headed down to Scamander again to spend another day or so with Jo and Ted. They took us to the places the tourists don't usually find, and showed us a great time (and the yellow throated honey eater). Many thanks!
By then it was time for Fred and Jen to arrive.
It seems they enjoyed their time with us in Broome, and they decided to meet us here in Tassie.
Fred was keen to fly fish the highland lakes, and Jen wanted to see mutton birds.
After relaxing (and a couple of computer jobs) at Marrawah in the north west corner for a couple of days, we headed south along The Road To Nowhere to Strahan.
That night on the beach, Jen got her wish, as short tailed shearwaters came back to their nests by the hundreds.
Strahan also provided us with another opportunity to get out the recovery gear. As we were heading down a track to explore the fishing opportunities on the Henty River, our inter-vehicle radio chatter was interrupted. "I'm bogged. Can you help?" Fortunately the interjecter had a GPS, and after a bit of mucking around we found them. This time we used our winch - the first time ever. The cruiser inched forward ever so slightly, then the stranded Land Rover Discovery rolled out of the four holes its driver had dug with his "aggressive" tyres.
After that, it was on to the highland lakes for Fred to do a little fly fishing. In a complete surprise, Sitel finally got back to us with an offer of work. A few days a week of database support work will help us pay the bills, and there is still time left to see the sights and attend to whatever other work we can muster up. We were in store for another surprise, when we spotted our first Tassie Devil, just off the porch of our temporary home on Skittleball Plains.