Love on Forrest Downs by Sheryl McCorry

Author:Sheryl McCorry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan Australia
Published: 2012-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Holidays at last

I was in need of a rest after what felt like a rather long year, and on 26 August 2009 I finally realised my dream of visiting Tasmania, in the arms of the man I love. Michael and I flew from Perth to Melbourne and then on to Launceston.

On that last leg a calm female voice came over the intercom asking us to tighten our seatbelts and warning us that the landing of our aircraft would be rocky due to the worst weather experienced in years in the northern half of Tasmania. Glancing through the small window of the plane, we saw paddocks (and even part of the runway) resembling rice paddies. The country was awash and we both thought that even a sure-footed duck would have trouble traversing it. Eventually we landed safely, and the relief on the flight attendant’s face was evident as she commented, ‘This is what we employ capable pilots for.’

We were met by a taxi in the shape of an ancient Toyota Camry, and its pleasant and knowledgeable driver took us to our hotel in the centre of Launceston. The weather was beautifully crisp and cool, and it made for an extremely comfortable first night on the ‘Apple Isle’. Waking early the next morning, we were excited to investigate the CBD of Launceston. After a hearty breakfast and a good mug of coffee we headed off to hire a car to take us around the island.

Our first stop out of Launceston was Scottsdale, to purchase a decent-sized thermos and mugs, and plenty of tea, coffee and snacks for the road. But what impressed us both was the rich red soil of the potato paddocks, which had been freshly cultivated. It was not unlike that of Michael’s home town of Pemberton, where he had spent fifty years growing potatoes along with cattle. I found Scottsdale so beautifully refreshing that we spent the night in an old-world mansion.

The following day our wanderings took us through St Helens and St Marys. As we travelled through small villages, negotiating hairpin bends and numerous log trucks, I noticed the dense undergrowth that was so thick a dog couldn’t bark in it. Eventually we arrived in Campbell Town, where we spent the night.

Sadly, the paddocks beyond Campbell Town were dotted with the skeletons of hundreds of dead trees that had fallen victim to the prolonged drought. With not much previous knowledge of Tasmania, I was shocked to learn that parts of the island were prone to these weather conditions. It just didn’t seem right! I’d always thought of Tasmania as lush and green.

We spent the next night in Richmond and woke to a glorious, sunshine-filled morning. In Port Arthur we walked among the ancient ruins and remembered the tragic events that had occurred there on 28 April 1996.

We arrived in Hobart on 1 September, which is my grandson Brock’s birthday. There we had breakfast on Constitution Dock, the finishing point of the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race. While there we were able to make a birthday call to young Brock and touch base with family back home.

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