“You’re doing WHAT!”

"Barbara and I are touring Tasmania in our caravan for 14 weeks.”

“And what are you planning to do on the SECOND day?”

That was the reaction most often encountered when we first told friends about our great adventure to the littlest State of Australia.

We had booked a twin berth on the Spirit of Tasmania, and when the freight costs for our Mitsubishi Outlander and Adria 432PX van were added, we were out of pocket to the tune of $1,500. Hence our decision to stay 14 weeks on the island; with such a hefty initial outlay, we are highly unlikely to ever make the trip again.

Planning mode had lasted for months. There were essential requirements such as house/dog-sitters for the Gus boy, the safe care of an ailing Eileen, the automatic payment of recurring bills, plus numerous other chores, not the least of which was the weight-conscious selection of clothing, provisions and equipment for the trip.

Of course special attention had been given to the greatest fear both of us had … the dreaded ‘mal de mer’. Bass Strait has a reputation for bringing out the best in people … the best breakfast, the best lunch, and so on. So we spent up big on Blackmore’s “Travel Calm”, plus “Kwells”, and even glace ginger as well. Not sure if all that medication worked or whether it was just a low-swell sea on September 2, but thankfully we crossed the ditch without the slightest hint of nausea.

Neither of us had been on the “Spirit” before so we were really impressed by what was on offer. The highlight was the dining room meal … prepared, quite obviously, by a very talented chef, plus the magnificent Pinot Noir from Tasmanian winery “Ninth Island.” We can’t wait to get to their winery in the Tamar Valley region to stock up on that red.

Embarking and disembarking was an interesting exercise. First there were the security checks on the car and van. Would you believe I had 3 litres of petrol in a proper plastic container designed specifically to prevent fumes and spillage? But was I allowed to take this on board? Uh uh ...

“Tip the petrol into your vehicle’s tank please sir, and then fill your plastic jerry can all the way with water.” There must have been 50,000 litres or more of petrol slopping around in the fuel tanks of the vehicles on board and they are concerned about my miniscule 3 litres sealed in a can specifically designed for its safety. What a joke!

On the advice of several people, we held back a distance at the Melbourne sea terminal to observe the loading of vehicles from 5pm for the 7.30pm sailing.

By doing this we were able to be one of the last on and first off. Fat lot of good that did us when we lined up for the sniffer-dog quarantine check in Devonport … the inspectors pulling vehicles out of the line behind us and pushing them through ahead of us.  A case of whom you know rather than what you know?

But the wait was worth it. We decided to start our tour of the Island in the North West corner and headed along the Bass Highway to Burnie, Wynyard and all points in that direction at a leisurely pace.

Having been roused from our bunks at 5.40am and with little time for food before we took up station at our vehicle for the 6.30am roll-off, it seemed like a great idea to pause for morning tea in the delightful little sea-side township of Penguin. The bakery there had gateaux to die for and we devoured them with van-brewed coffee … savoring with appreciative tongues the whipped cream that clung to our lips.

At this point Barbara decided that the toilet in the van, which had worked so well on all our previous breaking-in trips, was the next stop she needed to make. Shock, horror … the lever that slides the cassette lid open just would not budge! Oh great! Just finished sponge cake and whipped cream and I have to drag the toilet cassette from its housing and try to release a jammed lid. Try as I might, the damned thing would not work.

And this is where a great relationship with the van dealer at Frankston, Scott Webster of Melbourne and European RV’s, proved so worthwhile. I rang Scott, told him of my huge Tasmanian dilemma and was delighted to hear him say, “No worries Gordon … we’ll get help for you. I will ring you back in a few minutes and tell you where to take the van.”

Oh boy … how many kilometers is this going to add to the trip before we have barely got under way I wondered.

True to his word the mobile rang after 10 minutes:

“OK mate … do you know where the town of Penguin is?”

“Do I what … we are parked in the main street!”

Of five agents listed in Tasmania, Scott had made contact with one about 800m from us.

“Go to Penguin Composites, see Julie and she will get the job done right away and send me the bill.”

A half hour later we were relieved to be on our way again … Barbara especially so! Scott, you are a champion … you can expect to get plenty of customers referred by this happy couple in the future.

So Tasmania is famous for its narrow winding roads, eh. Those who hold that image dear must never have travelled from Devonport to Stanley. Dual 110kph highway most of the way thoroughly enjoyed by us who never go over 85kph towing the van anyway.

Because of our unhurried relaxed itinerary we were able to call into the delightful little seaside village, Boat Harbour and the even more beautiful Sisters River where the Penguin Bakery’s sour dough bread was the basis of some scrumptious sanwiches.

While the radio was telling us that Victoria was copping a deluge, the skies over North West Tassie were starting to look decidedly threatening and with rising wind gusts tugging the van around a little bit, we decided the 4-star rated caravan park at Stanley seemed a good option. And that is where this first episode of our blog is coming from.

Stanley has the reputation for giving up some of the best crayfish (lobsters) in the world, and isn’t that reputation deserved. Before the rains came we went to fish co-op and bought a cooked-that-morning .7kg specimen from their huge stock of live crays, and I have to tell you, never have I enjoyed lobster so much. Mind you, we won’t be outlaying $70 for just one denizen of the deep too often … but how could you visit Stanley, Tasmania and not try their specialty.  And so that covers our first day on the Island.

Our second day was spent sheltering in the van from non-stop rain and wind, but we would have suffered that fate in Melbourne anyway and not enjoyed ourselves anywhere near as much. Tomorrow … a new day dawns!