Review of the Dawn Princess

Circumnavigating Oz, Part Nineteen, Hobart Tasmania

written by mickeyd69 posted on 14/02/11

Circumnavigating Oz, Part Ninteen, Hobart, Tasmania. (Complete story available at www.theozcruise.com)

. Hobart is the largest city in Tasmania, with a population just over 200,000. It is beautifully situated, with the waterfront in the center of the city and Mount Wellington rising more than 4,000 feet behind it. In the morning, the city and mountains reflect the rising sun with a golden glow, while the midday and afternoon sun illuminate the area and provide a contrast between the city?s buildings and the green hues of the wooded mountains. The view was especially striking from the Horizon Lounge and the higher decks since we could enjoy the cityscapes reflected in the still waters of the port and the forested mountains rising in the background.

We relaxed in the Horizon room, and wandered back to our cabin while the excursions got underway and the crowds at the gangway cleared. The way the ship was docked, our balcony on the port side gave us a good view of the harbor and the distant hills beyond. Unfortunately, with the fog and rain, there wasn?t much to see. But, by about 2:00 in the afternoon, the rain stopped and the fog thinned down to a mist. We thought it was a good time to take the plunge and go into town.

We were familiar with Hobart, having stopped there for a couple days during our last cruise, so we didn?t want to take a tour our first day, particularly since our surprise dinner was planned for Fred that night. So, we grabbed our ponchos that Bon had wisely brought with her, and headed for town. The shuttle bus stop was right at the end of the gangway, and a rainproof tent-like structure had been erected to keep us dry while we waited for the bus. They came about every ten minutes, so we didn?t have to wait long.

The shuttle dropped us off in the center of town by the inner harbor, and we walked to the Visitor?s center. It looked exactly the same as it did six years before, and I stocked up on brochures and handouts to use as reference materials. With the dark skies threatening to drop buckets of rain on us any minute, we didn?t want to walk too far, so we just contented ourselves strolling around the inner parts of Sullivan?s Cove, checking out the boats in Victoria Dock, Constitution Dock, King?s Pier Marina, and the Ferry Terminal. The May Queen, an original tall ship, is permanently moored at Constitution Dock, and she completes the view of the inner harbor. We decided we were pushing our luck, and took the shuttle back to the Dawn. Just as we stepped into the Bonging station, the skies opened up and it really came down, bringing to mind the analogy of the cow and rock. We had timed it just right because, when we got in the line for the shuttle back in town, many of our fellow passengers felt that the line was too long and they decided to take their chances walking. We passed them about half way back to the ship, and I couldn?t help but think about them while we rode the elevator up to Caribe Deck.

Hobart is a compact city, with lots of interesting things to see and do. About two kilometers north along the river is the Royal Tasmanian Botanical Garden, which we would see the next day, after our trip up Mount Wellington. Two other worthwhile places to see within walking distance are the Salamanca Market, open on Saturdays, and Battery Point, a quaint colonial village. On the way up to Mount Wellington, two other popular attractions are the Cascade brewery and the Cadbury Chocolate Factory. Because Hobart is one of the main access ports for the national Antarctica Research Expeditions of Australia and France; the Antarctica Exhibits are worth seeing, and, Aurora Australis, the Australian Antarctica Research ship is based in the city.

Day trips from Hobart include the notorious prison at Port Arthur on the Tasman Peninsula, and the Dog Line on Eaglehawk Neck, the narrowest part of the peninsula at about 30 meters (about 100 feet), and the location of the line of chained vicious dogs that patrolled the neck to ensure that no prisoner could get past that point. Not many did, but, a few actually made it. One of the more bizarre attempts was by George ?Billy? Hunt, who tried to sneak out disguised as a kangaroo. But, even though he thought he might have looked like a kangaroo, he didn?t smell like one. The dogs figured out what was going on rather quickly, when the creatively deficient Mr. Hunt promptly surrendered to keep from becoming dog food himself.

Port Arthur also earned the dubious distinction of imprisoning boys as young as nine years of age, some of them sent to prison for offenses like stealing toys. They were eventually sent to the British Empire?s first boy?s prison at Point Puer, to keep them separated from the less than charitable adult convicts.

The prison buildings have been cleaned up, but mostly left as they were, in various states of decay, when the decision was made to establish the National Park. Enough of the complex is still standing to convey the impressions of what life was like in Port Arthur. The complex also built Australia?s first nondenominational convict church, and attendance was compulsory, in the hopes that the involvement might aid in the convict?s rehabilitation. Because of the change in emphasis from brutal physical punishment to psychological punishment, some reformers thought that Port Arthur was a kinder, gentler institution, but, evidently, due to the isolation that was part of the psychological punishment, prisoners chose death, either through suicide, or committing murder, as preferable to continued life at Port Arthur. The prison closed in 1877, and there have been numerous claims of sightings of ghosts, and communication with spirits and ghosts in some of the buildings after dark.

Just off the highway north of Hobart lies Campbelltown. It was one of the major garrison towns on the highway to Launceston and the north coast of Tasmania, but is best known for the surviving multiple arch bridge built by convicts.

Off to the northwest of Hobart about 64 kilometers, is Mt. Field National Park. The namesake mountain rises to an altitude of 1,434 meters (about 4,700 feet). The high elevations provide a high latitude moorland ecosystem unique in the world, especially so close to a major urban area. The park, along with Freycinet, is Tasmania?s oldest, and features several waterfalls. The trip to Mt. Field can easily be done in one day, although there is so much to see that a longer stay would certainly be enjoyable.

We had been lucky to get back to the ship before the skies opened, and we really didn?t expect much more to happen in the afternoon. We decided to curl up with our books and read.

I happened to look out from our balcony, and I was surprised to see three sailboats in the harbor. I went to get my camera, and several more boats appeared. Within about 20 minutes, I counted roughly 60 sailboats of all sizes and shapes sailing around the harbor. With all the different colors on the sails, the scene looked like aquatic confetti! It was like nothing I had ever seen; and I couldn?t think of a reason why so many boats were out on the harbor on such a dreary, rainy, afternoon. Then it came to me! They were saluting the presence of the Dawn Princess! How nice of them! Later the reality of the situation burst my balloon. It was their usual Thursday afternoon practice for the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race, held during the Christmas Holiday, on Boxing Day; every year for the last 60 years. (Boxing Day normally is celebrated on December 26th.)

We watched the sailboats go back and forth for almost two hours; and I shot more than 140 pictures of the boats. The dark, gray weather actually provided unusual effects with the boats appearing and disappearing in the fog and mist. After a couple hours, the boats began to retire to their marinas, I got tired of holding my telephoto lens, and we began to prepare for dinner.

After dinner, we agreed to go back to our cabins and get into something more a bit comfortable and meet at the Princess Theater for the evening?s entertainment, Piano Man; a tribute to the great singing pianists over the years, like Billy Joel and Elton John. (I didn?t want to mention Liberace since all the younger readers will snicker and ask who, or what that was!) It was a great show, fitting for Fred?s unbirthday.

The next day would be unusual for us because we spent the night in Hobart, so there would be no arrival in the morning. The captain and crew would require no assistance from me, and, I would not be pressed into sunrise duty.

No matter how I tried to avoid it, my Dawn Detection Mechanism operated perfectly, if a bit earlier than usual. The amazing thing about it was that Bon was still sound asleep, even at 5:28, way past her normal wake-up time. The wonder of it all was what awaited me when I looked out our sliding door: A crystal clear, cool, dry morning, with the sun just about to peek above the hills across the Derwent. The sky was deep blue, with just a thin sliver of red, orange, and gold clouds above the horizon. I grabbed my camera and started to shoot the sunrise with several different settings. The sun made its appearance within six or seven minutes, and I continued shooting until the full orb was visible, too bright to get a clear image. Only then did I realize that I was wearing nothing but the camera! At least nobody can see into the balconies except from inside the cabin. The most interesting aspect of the whole thing was that I didn?t notice that it was cold, about 10 degrees (C), or 48 (F).

Even though we had gone up Mt. Wellington the last time we visited Hobart, I had signed us up for a tour that would bus us to the summit, and then take us over to the Botanical Gardens. My interest was in getting to the top of the mountain early so I could get some aerial shots of Hobart and the river with my telephoto lens.

We had last visited Mount Wellington in 2002, when we arrived in Hobart early on a Sunday morning. I really wanted to see view from the top of the mountain, so we got off the ship as early as we could and started asking cab drivers for prices. The first two quoted $40A, and the third $30A. We agreed on the $30, got in, and off we went. While he drove, he seemed to be compelled to talk, and he told us the story of his life.

His name was Mike, and he came from the small town of Tarraleah, about half way between Hobart and Queenstown, along the Lyell Highway. He worked at the Tarraleah Power Station which managed the power output of the dams in the mountains, in the area of the big environmental wars over the hydroelectric generation plants. He lost his job, along with several hundred others from the town when the station was automated and the new plants were cancelled after the protests. Listening to him provided a new perspective on the whole situation. He was way beyond bitter about the protests and, as he called them, the ?Tree Hugging Freaks.? He went on to comment about all the rich college ass***es and their lawyers who came to Tasmania from their city homes in Melbourne and Sydney, and even London to take away his job. Since he was no longer a young man, and had four kids to support, he took a job driving a taxi, and his wife was working in a restaurant. Tasmania is not a center of high technology or expanding employment. He thought more tourists would come, but those jobs didn?t pay much. He wondered if the protestors from the colleges would like it if he and his friends shut them down?

As he told his story, we just listened, and, when we got to the top of the mountain, he asked us if we had a full day planned. We didn?t. So, he proposed turning off the meter (A symbolic gesture at best since we had agreed to a flat rate.) if we agreed to let him show us around for the rest of the morning. We agreed with the proviso that we buy lunch when we were finished. We had a marvelous day, one we will always remember, and we still think of him and wonder what happened to him. He didn?t have a computer, so sending e-mail was not an option. He gave us his address, and I wrote him a note after we returned home. It came back months later stamped ?NO SUCH ADDRESS?. I guess we?ll never know.

We met our group in the theater and made sure we got on the first bus. Our driver was a real character, and we started talking about everything we passed. After we arrived at the summit, we exited the bus and realized just how cold it was early in the morning at 4,200 feet. Bravely ignoring the adverse conditions, I was shooting everything in sight when I noticed the cloud cover moving in quickly from the north, which is precisely where I wanted to shoot!

Fortunately, I had been shooting toward the east, which meant that I didn?t have go too far to get my shots; just over on a spur of the summit ridge. It wasn?t exactly a level surface, and I almost fell several times. A fall would be very bad because of all the nasty things going on in my spine. I?d hate to spend the next few weeks in intensive care in Hobart. I managed to limp my way to the lookout, taking as many carefully composed shots as I could, racing the clouds for targets, and definitely not winning. I didn?t notice the wind and the cold until I?d been out for a while, and then it really hit me! It couldn?t have been more than 35 degrees (F), and the wind was crazy.

I looked for Bon, but she was nowhere to be seen. I did manage to get out of the wind and shoot some good pictures off toward the south where the cloud cover hadn?t reached. Our fellow tour group members were making their way back to the bus, thoroughly frozen to the core, walking stiffly, like robots. I thought my best course of action would be to check the bus, and there she was! Sitting in the front seat, right where she was when I last saw her. I had to hope that she got some decent pictures for my project. (She did.)

Next stop: Royal Tasmanian Botanical Gardens. Of course, we actually had to get there first. The road down from the summit is interesting, as in the old Chinese curse: ?May you live in interesting times?. Since we were on the first bus to reach the summit, it followed logically that we might have been the first to leave. The only problem with that was the line of buses coming up the hill as we were going down. Add the very tight curves to the already narrow road, with steep drop offs right beyond the nonexistent shoulders, and it adds to the excitement quotient. It was a very slow trip, and we only ran five cars off the road. The worst part of all that was the screaming that never seemed to end as the remains of the vehicles bounced against the rocks over and over, prompting more screams with every collision. (Only kidding?) It did take us more than twice as long to get off the mountain than it did to climb it, but we did finally make it to the gardens.

Our driver found a good parking place, told us how much time we had to look at the pretty flowers, and mentioned something about it only being about an hour walk back to the ship if we missed the bus. We were parked near a grove of huge pine trees, although they looked like no pine I had ever seen before. We had maps, so we tried to see as many interesting plants as we could while avoiding the steepest trails. In most instances, these conditions were mutually exclusive, but I did manage to get some shots of flowers we?ll never find in Florida. It also seemed that every flower had the words ?Kangaroo Paw? somewhere in their name. Accordingly, when anybody asked me what a flower was, I had a real good chance of being close to correct if I answered ?Kangaroo Paw?.

As we were picking our way between puddles and spraying water in the Orchid House, we met some fellow passengers from our table at dinner. They tried making the walk from the ship to the Gardens a short, easy stroll, but they did finally admit the traffic was brutal, causing long detours, and there was one particular hill that just about killed them. I almost expected them to ask us if we could smuggle them aboard the bus. We walked around the garden for a while until our deadline loomed. We said our farewells, agreed to meet for dinner, and split.

We walked to the bus, and I started chatting with some nice fellow passengers until I spotted an interesting flower with big bumble bees climbing all over it. I was happily immersed in my pictures when my lovely blond wife took me by the arm and quietly explained to me that I was in line for the wrong bus, and everybody was waiting for me to show up so our bus could leave. I managed to stagger my way gracefully onto our bus, about as surreptitiously as I did our first night in the dining room. We were on the right bus, heading back to the ship, and it was only 11:45. We had time for lunch, and a lengthy walk around Hobart. I really wanted to get to Battery Point, a pleasant part of the city that we missed our last time.

Not wanting to take the time for a ?real? lunch in the dining room, we ate up in the Horizon Room, went back to our cabin, and reviewed the necessities for our grueling hike through the wilds of downtown Hobart. The shuttle was no problem, and we found ourselves by the water at Constitution Dock. The day was pleasant and warm, the sun shining brightly, with white, puffy clouds floating lazily across the sky. We walked toward the Visitor?s Center, where I picked up a more detailed map of the center of Hobart. I wanted to explore the center of the city, go over to Battery Point, check out the Antarctic center, and then get some creative waterfront shots of the tall ships.

I had taken only a few shots of the tall ships when I noticed how dark it had gotten. We walked around the dock to get some reflection pictures of the skyline when the dark sky started to fall on us, piece by piece, slowly at first, then, increasing in intensity and frequency. I tried refusing to accept it, thus causing it to go away, but it didn?t seem to be working. I finally stuck my camera in my ever present plastic emergency bag, and submitted to the reality of rain; falling from the sky, into my ears and eyes, down my neck; getting me colder and wetter by the second.

We made our way toward the Visitor?s Center where we hoped a shuttle would be waiting for us to hop on and get warm and dry as we rode in comfort back to the Dawn Princess. The line was so long that three or four shuttles would come and go before we got a foot in the door. We were not amused, but, being experienced and enlightened world travelers, we walked to the end of the line and pretended everything was fine.

A shuttle pulled up, and 20 people leaped from the door of the Visitor?s center where they had been waiting, warm and dry, into the door of the bus. The shuttle, full to the top, standing room gone, quickly drove off. The line did not move a bit. We were even less amused. One of the ladies at the front of the line walked into the Visitor?s Center and addressed everybody there; and I quote: ?If anybody inside this building gets on the next shuttle, I will personally pluck out their eyes with my pocket knife!? She was not smiling as she said it. Nobody in the building moved. Magically, the next shuttle appeared, out of thin air! The lady told her husband to get on the damned bus and save her a seat. He did. She stood in the rain, staring at the people in the Visitor?s Center. Not one soul moved a muscle. She finally stepped onto the shuttle, the last one on. The door closed, and off it went. Nobody inside the Visitor?s Center moved a muscle, or anything else.

We waited forever, in the rain, nobody speaking or moving. Finally, after what seemed like hours, but couldn?t have been more than 20 minutes, the shuttle returned. Nobody in the Visitor?s center moved. There were actually some passengers on the shuttle coming into town, although nobody could figure why they would want to.

The first person in line stepped onto the bus, followed by the next 20 or so. Nobody in the Visitor?s Center moved. That bus left, and we were only 7th or 8th in line. We would definitely make the next bus, unless somebody crashed the line. About five minutes later, the other shuttle pulled in, and a few more masochists got off, in full rain gear, ready to take on the city. Nobody in the Visitor?s Center moved. We walked on to the shuttle, found seats, and took simultaneous deep breaths. We were on our way. And, we will never know how many of the people in the Visitor?s Center were even going to the ship, and, if any of them ever made it.

By this time, it was really raining, and we knew we were not going to make it back to any of the places we had planned to see, but strangely, we didn?t care. We were back on the ship, in the Horizon Room, enjoying a cup of hot tea, watching the rain fall and the sky sink lower and lower until we couldn?t see anything at all. We still didn?t care.

Dawn Princess sailed from Macquarie Wharf at 4:45 P.M., about 15 minutes late, most likely because a few passengers were delayed returning from an excursion, or coming from the visitor?s center. (With, or without, eyes?) Our last formal dinner was scheduled that night, and we were sure it would follow the Princess Line traditions that included: The Captain?s cocktail party; the lobster and Beef Wellington entrées; and the piece de résistance; The Parade of the Waiters carrying Baked Alaska while the diners waved their napkins over their heads like propellers! It has been exactly the same on the next to the last night of every cruise we have ever taken!

After our exciting activities of the day, we really didn?t feel up to taking in a show, so we went back to our cabin right from dinner. I had taken my camera to dinner so I could get ?last night dinner? pictures of our tablemates, and, as we walked by the double doors to the Promenade Deck, I noticed something through the gloom. Off in the distance, a point of land was barely visible, and, right at the point, were strange objects sticking straight up, like pencils from a container. I knew instantly that they were the Dolorite Stacks, or columns at Yankee Rock on Tasman Island, Cape Raoul. I went out on deck, opened to the widest exposure possible, and snapped away! I never knew what I got until I processed the images on my computer at home.

We made our way up to our cabin, got out of our formal clothes, and flopped on the bed, exhausted. Bon found the remote control, turned on the TV, and searched to see if there was anything worth watching. The first thing that she found was Meg Ryan singing; ?Horses, horses, horses?Jingle Bells?! Yup! Sleepless in Seattle; again. We laughed and curled up together to watch it. Tomorrow would be the day we hated most; the day we left our room on our ship.