Ramble
Quest - Hobart.
I finally made it to Hobart, which seems to me to be just a slightly larger version of Launceston (no doubt insulting to residents of both towns). I can watch movies again and eat good seafood. Tasmania is one of the few places left on earth where you can get oysters that are not fresh water flushed to wash out polluted seawater. So, they still taste like the sea, just like a good oyster should. Hobart's Mures is a good place to get them. They also have an excellent Japanese restaurant attached, not cheap, but great for a sashimi fix.
I visit the tiny but good botanic gardens. Why did they have to fence this place off so much though? It's quite a pain to get in there by foot if you don't know where the opening is. Hobart has some great old historic buildings, many of them built by convict labor.
I take the obligatory daytrip to Point Arthur, home to the island's most famous penal colony. It is also the spot where one of Australia's most famous mass murders occurred. Several years ago a madman shot 30+ people here. Despite all the bad history, it is a very pleasant place to spend the day and the information available on the penal colony is quite extensive. Buses there also stop at some of the wonderful formations along the coast. The stunning beauty of the area makes a weird contrast with its grim past. A climb of Mt Wellington is the other must destination for me. This grand mountain overlooking the town has a road to the top, but is best experienced with a good old fashioned climb. Charles Darwin took two attempts before making the summit and his guide got lost both times. Of course the paths are much better today, but I prove that you can still get lost. I take the standard Zig-Zag trail up and no worries there. Fabulous views at the top as well, despite seeing cars in a parking lot. Then I decide to take the longer Ice House trail down. This shows you a far less frequented side of this great mountain, but somehow I find myself at the end of a trail. I lift the cover off of a marker and discover that this is a path to the Smith Memorial, an early hiker who perished on the mountain. I'd passed by a few other similar grave site markers, no doubt of hikers like me who don't bring map, compass, or enough water. I fight down the panic at seeing a quickly setting sun and backtrack until I find another trail. I don't think this was the proper Ice House trail but it did get me down. Just goes to show that you can't be careless, even on tracks that are so close to towns. I stayed at the Transit Center, which is rather crowded and run down, but it is managed by a nice couple. It seems to be a hangout for Japanese who stay there forever and never seem to leave the hostel. One Japanese guy in my dorm had the sleeping habits of a cat. He would sleep all day and then have several active hours in the middle of the night where he would run back and forth to get things from his bunk. One night I heard a crack and a board in the bunk above me started to fall down. Not the easiest place to sleep. And of course, I did run into Nori again. This is the fourth chance meeting with him and I have one more a week later after taking a road trip.