Lookout. Lookout!!

When you're on holidays you see things differently, and you see different things around you. Holidays put you into a different mode, a kind of a Jeckel and Hyde transformation…to an extent. You're no longer just living as usual, you're a traveler, a tourist, a backpacker, a holidaymaker, a visitor, and more. You ask for directions rather than giving them. It's an escape from reality where time loses some dimension.

While in Tasmania I've really enjoyed my journey around the island, not just travelling from A to B, but taking in the surrounding area with all my senses wide open. I've noticed contrasting terrain both within the same National Park and across the island. I've seen big lakes, little streams, bright flowers, ancient trees, grassy plains and wooded mountains. I've heard the eerie quiet of a windless view, and the whistling wind of clouds blowing. And so much more.

Throughout the trip I've become a sucker for a great view; the beauty of nature in the raw, to appreciate the spectacular formations and angles that surround you here in Tasmania. To that end, a small alarm goes off whenever I pass a great viewpoint. "Lookout, lookout"…and I'm compelled to pull over, alter my course to see what the view is.

I appreciate that lookouts are well located to see the best of what's on offer. While in one sense I hate that I'm just following the crowd and adding one more photo to the collection, just like everyone else, but that's why lookouts exist, so we tourists all try and beat our own path and destroy what we came to look at. Nonetheless, my favourite photos are the ones with my own little bit of flavour added to them…although that's hard to do!!!

Anyway, since Cradle Mtn I travelled down the western side of Tasmania through some incredibly wooded forests which, at times, almost enclose the road in a canopy with what looks like a hedge alongside the road. The roads went up and down, twisted and turned around as they wound through the remote wilderness of the western coast.

My initial plans were to camp in Queenstown…a name that conjures up a quaint, beautiful little village oozing with character and atmosphere. Oh my god, how wrong I was!!! I was a little worried approaching as I saw mountains cut with the lines of open cut mines - copper mines - with my fears confirmed as I drove through the town. A true mining town with crappy houses, cheap motels, and rough-as-guts main street. The only redeeming feature was the historic railway station from where a steam train runs down to Strahan. Otherwise, it was damn hole and I got out of there!!

I headed out to Strahan, on the shores of the enormous Macquarie Harbour, where the Gordon river empties into. By contrast to Queenstown, Strahan is a nice village built on tourism - cruise boats depart daily for the Gordon River - and fisheries. Located in Macquarie Harbour are several fish farms, and from Strahan the fish feed is loaded onto barges and taken out to the fish feeding machines (which look like UFOs!!). In the past wood milling was also big business, but with only a small demonstration mill still on site.

The façade of Strahan looks to have a lot of character, with period buildings, but I fear that they've been built that way in recent times. But Strahan was a much more welcoming destination for the night than Queenstown…and I just hoped I'd get through alive the next day as I pass through on the way to Hobart!!

So from Strahan I set my bearings for Hobart, a long drive but full of beauty as we passed through the Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park (also a World Heritage Listed site), complete with numerous lookouts that I just had to stop at!!! Beyond the park boundaries were some more of the extensive hydro power stations, with networks of canals, pipes and electricity pylons across the countryside. These are amazing engineering achievements, even though they're dwarfed by the Snowy Mtns Scheme, and operate throughout summer such is the amount of water in the western side of the state.

As the roads left the mountains, the countryside became markedly drier, with little of the greenness, forests and river of western Tasmania. It seems to be a state of contrasts - west to east - with seemingly a rain shadow of sorts towards the east.

As Hobart approached it was easy to spot, based on the sight of Mt Wellington from a long way away. Mt Wellington rises 1270m above Hobart - with many other, smaller mountains in other directions - with a presence that looms across the city and surrounds. Hobart is one city I really haven't visited, so I was looking forward to developing my own impression of its personality over the next couple of days.