Should you find yourself playing some crazy, animal-alphabet game with your kids in the car (assuming the batteries in everything electronic have all died first), here is your entry for the letter “Q”…
Quolls are carnivorous (yes, more animals diggin’ roadkill- literally). Native to Australia and New Guinea, they are related to the Tasmanian Devil. We saw this guy on our recent trip to “Tassie”.
This is a continuation of a series of posts on Tasmania. Previous posts include the Launceston area, the town of Sheffield, Cradle Mountain and a Tasmanian Devil sanctuary. At this rate, these posts shall be completed sometime in 2014…
View from Cape Tourville Lighthouse, Freycinet National Park
Freycinet (fre-sin-ay) National Park is located on the eastern coast of Tasmania and at a four and a half hour drive from Cradle Mountain, a seemingly world away from chilly mornings and alpine hikes. Home to Wineglass Bay, voted one of the top ten beaches in the world by Condé Nast Traveller, the Freycinet area is overwhelming with rugged coastal views and stunning hiking trails.
We stayed just outside Cole’s Bay, the “world’s first plastic bag free town.” (I questioned this at one of the shops, but was assured that the plastic-y bag that I was given was actually a recycled product of something or other, but DEFINITELY not plastic).
We had two full days in the area that we devoted to the National Park’s trails. Our hikes included Wineglass Bay Lookout and Beach (the only way in is a half-day hike or by boat), Cape Tourville Lighthouse, Sleepy Bay and an easy picnic lunch at Honeymoon Bay.
But really, it’s the photos that do the talking in a place like this:
Looking down at Wineglass Bay from the Lookout.
Wineglass Bay
Apparently, there’s a uniform…
We received a phone call last week with a fabulous offer: would our boys like to play on the field during halftime of the upcoming Essendon-Geelong match?
It’s an Australian sporting tradition that I have never witnessed in the States- during halftime of professional sporting events, young kids are brought on to the field to play a game. And with the Essendon Bombers and the Geelong Cats as the only two undefeated teams on the ladder, it would be a great game for our family to attend.
So Paul enthusiastically agreed and went to tell the boys… who weren’t so enthusiastic.
Well, our oldest son was. He’s in his second year of playing “footy” for his school’s Year 5/6 Interschool Sports team. He enjoys the sport and more importantly, he’s had experience playing it competitively.
Not so for our nine-year-old. Other than playing it with friends at recess (and one day of AusKick skills when we first arrived), he has never played a single game of competitive Australian Rules Football. Ever.
“I don’t want to,” he said sullenly when told about the opportunity.
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
That would have been a good time to take a page from the Compassionate Parent Handbook and explore his feelings. He was obviously nervous and feeling intimidated by the prospect of playing footy in front of a packed stadium on a team where he knows just a handful of the other players. It would have been an opportune time to flush out those feelings of self-doubt and explain that, though we understand that facing the unknown can be scary, it can also be quite rewarding.
So what did we do? We ignored him.
If anyone mentioned the game, he’d pipe up that he wasn’t playing, and we’d smile indulgently and change the subject.
On the day of the game, Paul threw an extra pair of footy boots (cleats) in a backpack and we hopped the train to Etihad Stadium, a very quiet and withdrawn nine-year old trailing at our heels.
Once we arrived at the stadium, things began to move. We were led to our group’s seats and instructed on when to head down to the locker rooms (I was given the role of team photographer and would be one of few adults allowed on the field).
After the first quarter, our group was quickly led into the bowels of the stadium and into the Essendon locker rooms. The kids were given Essendon Bomber uniforms and a short time to change, warm up, take a quick team photo and get their coach’s talk.
Throughout it all, our nine-year-old went through the motions with the rest of his team, a look of fear mixed with determination etched on his face.
He had little time to think- we were quickly ushered into the tunnel leading up to the grounds where we could see exactly what a crowd of 53,014 looks like from the field.
A small portion of the 53,014 in attendance…
Then the buzzer sounded and we were jogging into the stadium.
When it was all over, our team had won, I was having quite detailed fantasies of a future career as a professional sports photographer (I really need to get one of those super-long lenses) and a certain nine-year old was nearly giddy with relief and excitement.
As he walked back into the tunnel, he turned to me with a grin that nearly split his face in half and exclaimed, “Can I do that again?!?”
Compassionate parenting? Overrated.
A little pre-game, brotherly pep-talk
Tough guy waiting in the tunnel.
Forming the “Guard of Honour” as the pros head back on to the field.
Post-game celebration- I adore the looks on their faces.
There is so much emphasis on Cradle Mountain in Tasmania, but Mt. Roland was the view from the kitchen window of our little cabin in Wilmot. Not a bad vista as you sip your cup-o-joe…
I saw this posting by Cosette at Stumble Down Under and wanted to share it. It made me laugh (and it made me wince as I read Derryn from Melbourne’s comment- really, someone needs to give the poor guy an explanation of parody).
The concept is this: What if America and Australia combined to form one country?
Might make my life simpler…
You can read more here…
Winner of the 2012 International Mural Fest
Located about an hour north of Cradle Mountain is the town of Sheffield, known throughout the region as the Town of Murals. Over the last thirty years, this town has evolved into an outdoor art gallery- over 140 murals cover the blank walls of buildings in this town of 1,000.
Once a year, the town hosts International Mural Fest, a week-long competition in April where artists paint furiously over seven days while gapers stand by idly and watch.
We happened to be driving through Sheffield on Day 6 of the competition and took some time to wander the town and watch the artists complete their masterpieces. Each year the organizers choose a poem that the artists must use as inspiration. This year’s poem was by Loretta Sommer:
Wild and Free
Freedom unrestrained, searches the secret wilderness of the heart.
The prize for the winning mural is $12,500 and like any good competition, there was a bit of scandal involved.
I had wandered up to one of the organizers, an older gentleman with a shock of white hair, to ask about a mural that was very obviously behind schedule.
“Oh, yes… that’s a replacement mural,” he explained. ”That artist isn’t part of the competition.”
He looked around and leaned in as if we were co-conspirators. “You see, the original artist didn’t follow the rules… insisted on using his own paint.” He nodded slowly and widened his eyes as he spoke, imparting the gravity of the situation.
“We talked to him, but he just ignored us. Kept using his own paint. We had to let him go- wasn’t fair to the other artists.” He stepped back to take in my reaction to the sordid news.
I’m not going to lie- suddenly the whole competition got a bit more interesting. A wayward artist insisting on his own vision! The credibility of the organization in doubt! I was even more intrigued when I learned that the insubordinate artist went by the moniker, “Sauce.”
I wanted to get the other artists’ take on the whole affair, but I felt I had been granted a more than generous behind-the-scenes look on the incident. So I went back to strolling among the murals as the artists feverishly painted with less than 24 hours to go.
In addition to the murals, the town has a quaint charm as it sits nestled in the shadow of Mt. Roland. We stopped by the Emporium, an eclectic shop owned by a gangly man with long, gray dreadlocks. He scared my kids a bit when he snapped at our oldest for touching some antique spoons, but redeemed himself when he directed us to shelf upon shelf of used books (books are one of those things that are overly expensive in Australia…).
We also wandered into the Fudge’n'Good Coffee shop on Main Street. Fudge isn’t common in Australia (with a diabetic in the group, we aren’t actively searching it out either, but the adults were game to see how good the “Good Coffee” was- quite good, in fact).
The owner of the fudge/coffee shop and attached art gallery is an American photographer by the name of Chris Puccetti. Originally from San Francisco, the extremely charismatic Puccetti had moved to Tasmania from Italy with his wife and two children. We traded stories of exposing one’s children to different parts of the world and he mentioned how northern Italy wasn’t exactly right for his family. He and his wife decided to return to her native Australia (she’s from Adelaide), but to give Tasmania a try instead.
Looking around the Puccettis’ shop, listening to Chris’ enthusiasm about their fudge, their coffee, and the life they were making in this artistic town, I was tempted to pick up and move to Sheffield myself.
At the very least, I hope to return for a visit. When our youngest isn’t looking, there is some fudge I want to try.
The Tasmanian Devil- a vicious, cruel and fearsome creature that plagued early settlers to Tasmania.
Well, not exactly.
The Tasmanian Devil does have a rather nasty looking set of teeth and makes a bizarre, screeching noise that more than likely freaked out a settler or two (Want to know what one sounds like? Click here).
But as we learned on our night feeding tour at the Devils@Cradle Tasmanian Devil Sanctuary, located just within the boundaries of Cradle Mountain-Lake St. Clair National Park, Devils can be cuddled and pet like a small lap dog.
Really.
Its fur is surprisingly soft.
I’m not going to go as far as saying they’re cute- watching them rip into a hunk of bloody carrion dispelled that notion quickly (as did the shrieking noise that came from their mouths as they fought with each other over animal remains… ) But they are actually quite fearful of humans; feasting on roadkill is much more their speed.
They are endangered however, and not because of the early settlers’ dislike. In 1996, Tasmanian Devils began developing cancerous facial tumours. Devil Facial Tumour Disease (DFTD) is a contagious cancer that spreads through biting (Devils may not harm humans, but they aren’t very cordial to each other).
According to our guide, the Devil population has shrunk from an estimated 200,000 to 20,000 in just ten years, which has led to the creation of sanctuaries such as Devils@Cradle.
I’m not going to say I have a newfound fondness for these animals, but the sanctuary was fascinating and well worth the visit for anyone in the Cradle Mountain area.
