Random Adventuring: Hobart

MID-MARCH 2013 and cricket fans around Australia are glued to their internet connections. As of March 14 all six states had a chance of making the Sheffield Shield final, with four of them an excellent chance of hosting it should results go their way.

I won't bore you with the details, but the end result was that my home state of Queensland would play Tasmania down in Hobart. Chatting it over with the boss I mentioned something along the lines of how good it would be to be there if Queensland managed the win. He reckoned I should get my arse down there, and he was right: it was the perfect combination of four days off work, my team playing a final somewhere I'd never been before - and most importantly, money on the plastic.

Debt repayments be damned*!


FIRST up I actually had to get there. With a limited time before I had to be back in Brisbane for work on the Wednesday I had to catch a 5am flight down to Sydney before connecting through to Hobart. Now the key thing when you have such an early flight is to pack the night before and get an early night. What I actually did was stay up until all hours celebrating the marriage of two good friends before coming home three-parts elephant trunk, forcing a bunch of clothes, toiletries and camera kit into a ridiculously small carry-on bag, grabbing a couple of hours sleep before spending the taxi ride to the airport trying to do up my shoelaces.

With such a great lead-in the trip down was spent either pushing out the big zzzz's or pushing in a Red Rooster combo at Sydney Airport. It wasn't until Captain Speaking told us in a pleasing baritone we were approaching Hobart International that I woke up and began peering out the window at the only Australian state that had thus far eluded me.

Now it would be a shame to visit somewhere new and spend the entire time at the sporting ground/pub, and as such had a rough idea what I would do. The plan was to arrive, head straight over to Bellerive Oval for the rest of that day's play, then alternate between the game and sight-seeing depending on how well Queensland were doing. Not knowing how expensive Hobart taxis were (and not being keen to find out after the $60 cab fare to Brisbane Airport), I decided to ask a shuttle bus driver how close he could drop me to the ground. The answer was not that close, although according to Google Maps (how did we travel before smartphones?) it would be a pleasant walk. This would no doubt have been the case, only for a squall to pass overhead, forcing me to take cover at a funeral home before arriving at the ground in brilliant sunshine to find play stopped after the groundsmen had taken their time getting the covers on.

This turned out to have an unexpected bonus. Heading into the main pavilion I found the Tasmanian Cricket Museum, which not only listed modern-day greats like Ricky Ponting and David Boon, but also included the history of cricket on the island. This included a panel on Charles Eady's unbelievable 566 not out for Break-O'-Day back in 1902. Other sections included lists of all Tasmanian first-class cricketers both pre- and post-Sheffield Shield entry; about the only thing missing was mention of Boonie's tinny-drinking record on the 1989 Sydney-London flight.

Play eventually got back underway with Queensland struggling against an excellent Tasmanian attack. Rather than sit around listening to locals crap on about their boys I decided to try and work off the previous night's festivities by walking into the city. After heading back to where the bus dropped me off I learnt a very important lesson about walking in Hobart:

Don't walk over the Tasman Bridge.

Seriously. The pedestrian/cyclist pathways are about 2 metres wide and right next to six lanes of traffic in what was 20 minutes of carbon monoxide poisoning on an island famous for its clear air. By the time I'd made it up and down the graceful arch I had the flu, black death and a nasty little sniffle. South of the Derwent was a little better, with the pathway a good few metres up and away from the freeway.

I eventually made it into Hobart's compact city centre and checked into the Mecure Hadleys Hobart. Now for those that haven't stayed in a nice place for a while - and this is a nice place - I will warn you that many large chains now take a pre-authorisation on your credit card; ie they put a hold on a certain amount of cash that you won't be able to use until your bank decides you can have it back. This varies from place to place, so I suggest doing what I did and calling to see how much it will be, budgeting for it, then hoping like hell the bank releases it before petrol prices rise by 12c/l. But I digress.

After a quick snooze (sleep on a plane not being all that helpful after two hours sleep the night before) it was down to Salamanca, host to a world-famous market every Saturday. This being a Sunday, locals and tourists alike were thin on the ground. After a quick blockie with the windows wound down and house music blaring I decided to dine at a James Squire bar, where I had an adequate, if slightly overpriced, pizza and beer. Then back to the hotel bar for my first Cascade in Tasmania.

Tasted good.


MONDAY, and I was a bit excited. After dragging my sorry carcass out of bed relatively early (did I mentioned I'd only had two hours sleep on the Saturday night? Because I totally did.) it was down to the harbour for the ferry out to the controversial Museum of Old and New Art (MONA). According to the good people at Wikipedia MONA is the largest privately-funded museum in Australia; having now spent some time there it's unlikely any government would have had the courage to do it themselves.

On arrival you leave your bags in the cloakroom, grab a portable guide (free of charge) and descend into the depths of the building. Your portable guide not only tells you where you are, but also has sections like "Gonzo" and "Art Wank" for more detail on a particular work. I managed to end up in the adult-only section pretty quickly (it's on the bottom floor - teehee I just wrote "bottom" - which is where you start) and while works like the painting of a transgender person didn't bother me, Juan Davila's Arse End Of The World certainly did. I won't go too much into it, other than to say I'm pretty sure Burke & Wills never interacted with local flora and fauna quite that way.

While I'd heard about MONA before the idea of heading to Tasmania even came to mind, I didn't realise the main building was on the site of a winery. Despite Queensland starting to run through the Tasmanian second innings over at Bellerive, I simply had to (I'd pre-paid and was determined to get my $10 worth) do a wine tasting. Although I booked a set time it turns out you can rock in pretty much any time you want to - not that I minded waiting as it was 20 degrees and cloudless outside. The wines themselves were quality and it was only the safety measure of leaving the credit cards at home that stopped me from signing up to their wine club and having eight bottles delivered to my door every three months. Still wouldn't mind, but there's nowhere online to sign up. I also gave the locals beers a crack and very much enjoyed them as well.

So back on the ferry, back to the room briefly to drop off the daypack and off to sample some more local culture. This time is was at the Lark Distillery where for $10 I got to sample some of the local whiskeys. I don't normally drink whisky but enjoyed this, chatting away to the bartenders from New Zealand and Warwick, Queensland respectively. By the time they kicked me out for closing I was in a pretty good mood - so good in fact I decided to go back to the James Squire pub, spend nearly $50 on a steak and a pint, and proceed to watch my beloved North Queensland Cowboys play like the Nauru under-19s and get thrashed by Newcastle.

So much for the bloody smile. Only started coming back when the lovely barmaid at the hotel bar decided to fill - and I mean fill - my wine glass when I popped in for a nightcap. A couple of minutes later she told me it was last drinks; a bit redundant seeing as it took me another hour to finish the wine glass.


TUESDAY dawned with the realisation that 10 o'clock was checkout and I wasn't nearly in the mood to, you know, be awake. I eventually dragged my sorry carcass down to reception then set about finding breakfast. While scouting Salamanca I discovered a book store and found myself $40 lighter and 1kg heavier; soon afterwards I found a spot at the busiest cafe and settled in for breakfast. The pancakes and bacon were delicious; the service somewhat lacking. In fact, 30 minutes after they'd cleared my plate I was still reading one of the books, wondering if anyone would notice either my empty coffee cup or me walking out without paying. Honesty got the better of me this time around, although next time I find myself breakfasting in Hobart they'd want to be keeping a closer eye on things.

A bit of a wander around Battery Point and I found myself with some time to kill. Queensland were now no chance of snatching an amazing victory, which ruled out Bellerive. I'd already done quite a bit of walking over the previous few days so was pretty keen to rest my feet. Wandering into a bar by the bay I found two different cricket games on the tv, cold beer and a hot barmaid.

I'd found home for the next few hours.

A few beers, a few sledges from locals about the Shield final, and some fish and chips down by the water and it was time to jump on the bus back to the airport. Although I only made it down for a few days it was easy to see why Lonely Planet rated Hobart as one of its "Best in Travel" for 2013 - and I hadn't even been there over a weekend! Proof that sometimes the most random travels are the best.


* Only joking about that debt repayment thing. I take my obligations to Dewey, Nee-Capem & How very seriously and very much enjoy being able to walk along such magnificent structures like the Tasman Bridge.