Risdon Dam, Xanthorrhoea & Mr Davidson's home-made champagne

Hobart's drinking water—delicious and you can circumnavigate it

Friday 31st January, 1834

With my way of life, there was no reason to fear sleepless nights when I came ashore. As long as I could withstand the exertion, I was constantly on the move, and so far as my body has not rallied in its duty from before sun-up till dark, even during the long days of the southern summer. The cool nights were most refreshing and invigorating and I did not shirk even the utmost exertion. [...]
Here in Van Diemen's Land I had yet another reason to try my physical strength to the utmost: here in this clean, well-built town I felt sadder than long since. The pleasant houses with their pretty gardens in front breathed a spirit of order, happiness and sociable family life which rubbed salt into my raw wounds . . . For a moment I thought of ringing down the curtain forever on the past and starting a new life here at the ends of the earth. Last night this idea evolved into a firm plan. Quick to take action as I still am, this plan would probably have been carried out had not the memory of my mother restrained me . . . p. 123

Risdon Reservoir in the morning mist

Monday 17th February, 2014

I have visited places and day dreamed of setting up a life there, Hobart amongst them. It's scale is intimate, the landscape and architecture beautiful and the people are relaxed and friendly. There is something familiar in this place, even when everything is new—could this have been the same for Von Hügel?
The Baron's melancholy outburst—his heart was broken when his fiancé left him for another—and his self-professed cure of increased physical activity turn my thoughts to my own state of mind. While walking my mind might wander to other times and places, yet the rhythm of my body in motion keeps me firmly in the present. There is a sense of purpose in walking, coupled with the feeling of weary aching limbs at the end of the day, that seems to propel one's thoughts and work forward; that does indeed make one feel alive.

Clouds hanging low in the trees

Galls on an acacia

Friday 31st January,1834

Dr Scott assured us that he knew the way and could save us the detour. But if the going had been hard before, it was now ten times worse. All Dr Scott could do was to climb the highest point ahead to get his bearings. These hills were all very steep and the sun-scorched ground was extremely slippery. As both hands were often necessary for climbling up and down and I was carrying my botanizing book and bag, I could not travel as fast as Dr Scott. In bragging tones, he urged me to catch up with him. At last we reached a kind of footpath in a valley, and now it was my turn to go ahead and urge him to catch up. p. 125

The fork in the road—I went up on the left and came back on the right.

Wednesday, 19th February, 2014

I have some sympathy for poor Dr Scott. For 'Day 2' of Von Hügel's Grasstree Hill walk I started out at the Risdon Brook Track. This track is an easy walk or bike ride around the Risdon Reservoir. There are various walking tracks leading off the main trail, clearly marked on my 1:250 000 map. 
Von Hügel was hampered by his botanizing book and bag, while in my day pack I had, lunch, water, first aid kit, the map, my smart phone with tracking app and built in GPS, and finally my less than dependable sense of direction. Unfortunately, I was without a Dr Scott to keep me company. But the park is not very big, and fence lines are clear.
The track continued clearly for most of the day. I walked to a place in the park where Xanthorrhoea grew abundantly—evidence of how Grasstree Hill came by its name. I came to a fence line and in consultation with my map decided to follow it until it turned 90 degrees and followed a new course up hill. At this point I stopped for lunch, in the mist and the utter silence. Here the silence persists through the sounds of the air, the birds, some frogs and intermittently there is the solid thump, thump, thump of a kangaroo heading off at my arrival. Even the screech of the sulphur crested cockatoo, which ripped through the air like a frantic fog horn, was not an infringement on the peace in the way the rumble of cars or machinery would have been.
Returning to the main track I set off again away from where I had been. Again I reached a fence line, this time following it deep into a gully and down to a green mossy creek bed. Climbing up the other side I soon felt in a new environment, the mist had lifted and the heat and dryness were reflected in the new plants and little skinks running about. 
Always on a path, or near a fence line, I felt safe enough all day, knowing that I could follow the fence and eventually I would come to a road. But it was a reminder to walk with another, because when I eventually spotted the reservoir again, and I began to recognize landmarks I had passed earlier in the day, I was surprised to join the dam at the same place I had left it.

Xanthorrhoea - namesake of Grasstree Hill

The fence line - every surface a possibility for life

Lunch at the corner

coloured as if a set design

At the bottom of the gully—cool and fresh

Mosses and liverworts??

Up the other side of the gully—dry and heat tolerant plants return

The track

Risdon Reservoir in the afternoon—mists have lifted

The disused quarry—down the bottom agapanthus were in flower

 

Monday 17th February, 2014

On my second night in Hobart, I had bought some Glen Ayr bubbly to take to Cate and Konrad's for dinner. It was a 2008 Vintage that we all agreed was delicious; Emma (Glen and Strath Ayr) later told me she has only 7 dozen left.  I purchased some more at the cellar door after my day on Duckhole rivulet. Von Hügel's following diary excerpt—tucked amidst entries which observe how the British delight in excessive drinking—may have nothing much to do with restoration, or remnant vegetation, and a lot more to do with coincidence, but nevertheless it acts  as a link between me and Von Hügel. The shared pleasure of a glass of fizzy and new friends stretching across 180 years.

Similar stone to the Glen Ayr ruin

Friday 31st January, 1834

The boat brought us across the turbulent sea, and in complete darkness, to the Botanical Gardens. Not a glimmer of light could penetrate the dense clouds. Here I saw Mr Davidson's pretty wife for the first time and he gave us some of his home-made champagne to taste. It was made from genuine grape-juice and really worthy of the name champagne. It was 11 o'clock when I got back to the Macquarie Hotel. p. 126

Duckhole Rivulet, Major de Gillern's meersham pipe and the ruin

Strath Ayr Turf - part of the original Glen Ayr property

 

Tuesday 18th February, 2014

I have spent two days wandering about the rough proximity of Von Hügel's Grasstree Hill walk. It is possible that in the tellling, the two days will become entwined.

On my way to the ruin, Duckhole rivulet runs along behind the sheep.

Thursday 30th January, 1834

Major von Gillern's (sic) house is built in a fine, open situation on a hill open on all sides. In front it looks out over Pitt Water, an arm of the sea, and beyond that to the plain and the town of Richmond a short distance away.

Wednesday 12th February, 2014

Prior to visiting Tasmania I had pored over the 1:250 000 maps of Hobart and surrounds trying to find clues and markers of exactly where Von Hugel had walked. Von Hügel spent a night at de Gillern's property 'Glen Ayr', situated on a rise up Grasstree Hill before Richmond. So I was pleased when my internet sleuthing uncovered the winery 'Glen Ayr'. Unlike the Baron—who liked a formal introduction—I arrived in Hobart and telephoned 'Glen Ayr' unannounced.  I was told the winery was actually situated on a property called 'Strath Ayr'. However, the owner was able to confirm that originally Glen Ayr and Strath Ayr had been one. De Gillern's home was a ruin atop a hill behind their property. My topographical map from the 1980's marked the ruin, but the most recent 'up to date' map did not.

Glen Ayr ruin, turf in the distance

Glen Ayr fireplace, looking in the direction of the Pitt Water

Elegant stonework

Wednesday 12th February, 2014

With maps in hand, I drove up Grasstree Hill (not a Xanthorrhoea in site) to visit Emma, the Manager. She invited me to return to walk along the Duckhole rivulet. I also planned to walk up the hill and visit the ruin. Strath Ayr is a turf farm, swathes of green as perfect as cricket pitches are positioned beside chocolate brown ploughed paddocds waiting for seeds to be sown. Consequently, it was a surprise that amidst all this finely tuned manufacture, there appeared (to my untrained eye) a bounty of remnant vegetation along the rivulet and on the hillside where de Gillern's ruins lay.

Looking north from de Gillern's ruin

Bidgee Widgee in seed

Bursaria Spinosa

Duckhole Rivulet

Yellow everlastings amongst the green lichen

Native Raspberry Rubus parvolfolius 

Beautfiful poas

The rivulet was made up of interconnecting rock pools

Amongst the remant vegetation, thistles still take hold

 

Friday 31st January, 1834

I went for an early morning walk in the neighbourhood, but the unprecedented drought in Van Diemen's Land and the bushfire mentioned aboutve had destroued all plant life. Black and borwn were the only colours to be seen for miles around the house. p 123

Scarcely a single new plant rewarded us for our long, hard march. p 125

A view back towards Hobart, wildflowers abound

Hopbush Dodonea viscosa - I was interested to read that the fruit from the female berry is 'soapy' (Sapindaceae)—these properties could contribute to natural dyeing in interesting ways.

 Friday 31st January, 1834

After we had taken leave of our hosts, we set out on our return journey, taking a long detour over another range, by a track which Dr Scott assured us he knew very well. Dressed in a nankeen dressing-gown and slippers, and sucking his meerschaum pipe with its horn mouthpiece almost bitten through, the Major accompanied us for the first mile and assured us we could not possibly miss the track from here on. I have a natural aversion to such tracks in unknown country surround by mountains and hills, where there are no real signposts.

Major William de Gillern, his wife Harriet and Miss Lucy Scott at Rocky Hills probation station (184-)
Has been attributed to T.G. Wainewright.

The Springs to the Pinnacle - Mt Wellington

Meeting place: Davey and Molle (Mt W. just visible through the clouds)

Saturday 25th January, 1834
We were both enchanted by the magnificent natural scenery through which we passed. From time to time an opening in the dense forest afforded us a view over the Derwent and Hobart Town with the mountains beyond. The air was so invigorating, the day seemed made for an excursion such as this. I shall never forget the lovely green of the ferns as we sat beneath them, or the sunlight stealing through the tall trees and lighting them up. We stopped for only a short rest. I must confess I have never felt a more tonic effect than from the stimulating and invigorating air at this altitude. It filled my lungs and sent the blood coursing faster through my veins. p.112

Looking back to the day before; Water Works Reservoir

Friday 14th February, 2014

Von Hügel is describing the lower reaches of Mt Wellington, where, to reiterate, the tree ferns stand above head height, casting a soft cool light all around. I am reminded of something said to me at dinner the other night when I was effusively commenting on the beauty of Hobart and surrounds. Michael said, 'I say to people, too much oxygen, wait 'til you get used to the air and calm down a bit—then see how much you like it here.' Admittedly I have only been here a week, but the oxygen is yet to wear off. I particularly noticed it when passing from Waterworks Rd into the 'bush'. The transition from weedy verges to minty smelling eucalypts, the quiet company of dark furred wallabies, skittering birds and a screeching, arching flock of sulphur crested cockatoos produced a sense of calm and peace equal to the tonic described by Von Hügel.

Saturday 15th February, 2014

The last stretch of the walk to the top of Mt Wellington is via a choice of two tracks at the Springs. I was lucky enough to have company for this leg, not to mention a car ride to the starting point. The shorter zig zag track was chosen. It is less than 6 km to the summit, but took us about three and a half hours return (including lovely peppermint tea at the top thanks to Cate's foresight). It is notable, that, as one climbs the vegetation changes quite abruptly. Each new ecology pushing the one before it back almost beyond my imagination, in spite of or perhaps because of the sudden transition. As a consequence there is the illusion that the view from the mountain of a few moments before can feel a lifetime away. Perhaps it is simply the oxygen.

Setting off, 9.30am misty/overcast

Still misty and damp

Red berries, first change in flora

Saturday 25th January, 1834
The forest now becomes sparser and low-growing and you can see the top of the mountain for the first time, but still in the far distance. The terrain becomes more and more barren and soon vegetation disappears entirely.... When we had almost climbed the first summit, such a strong wind swept over it that it was almost impossible to keep walking against it.

This marks the beginning of a unique and splendid type of vegetation. Presumably the snow in winter and wind borne sand and dust have gradually built up a primary layer of  soil, which, simply by virtue of the vegetation itself and its decomposed litter fall, has in many places become thick enough to support a forest (that is, in terms of species) which, however, can grow only to a height of 12 to 15 feet. p. 112

Lichen

Saturday 15th February, 2014

The wind kept still for our walk and 180 years on there is a safe and sturdy path to follow. At times there is even a chain rail to take hold of, or a stone seat to rest upon and soak up the views. The vegetation is indeed surprising, and very beautiful. I think we missed the height of spring—instead of flowers we admired red, pink, white and purple berries. 

Gaultheria hispida and spider web

Hobart through the trees

Saturday 25th January, 1834

'The panorama is sublime. The islands and peninsulas and the surrounding sea lie spread out like a map, showing neither elevations nor depressions, and the ships dwindle to tiny boats.' p. 113

Saturday 15th February, 2014

I had also been told that a walk to the pinnacle of Mt Wellington on a clear day would reveal Hobart and its place in the landscape—that I would see where I was. Indeed this was so, even with light cloud cover; but I imagine it was more dramatic for Von Hügel. In an age of satellite photography and the corresponding map technology, I must confess I had already 'flown' above Mt Wellington, and had zoomed along the various rivulets I planned to explore later on foot in 'real' time. So while it held a particular charm and beauty, incomparable to screen based viewing, it did not feel totally new.  Hobart, albeit with the hole in the ozone, is still very clear and bright—Von Hügel might be alarmed at some of the changes were he given a bird's eye view today, but I think Hobart Town today would be one of the more recognisable places he visited on his 6 year voyage in the 1830's.

 Clouds lifting

Ozothamnus ledifolius, at the summit

View from the lookout 

Back down, very steep

.

Hobart Rivulet and the Female Factory

Wednesday 22nd January, 1834

'I was determined to lose no time, so although I enjoyed the quiet comfort of my bed, I was up by 5 o'clock. Accompanied by Mr Hodson, the owner of the inn, I set off for one of his properties at the entrance to a lovely valley at the foot of Mount Wellington.

This mountain is the constant background to the beautiful scene presented by Hobart Town. Its ever-changing colours and the lovely relationship between the rock formations and the woods, combined with its distinctive shape, make it one of the most beautiful mountains I have ever seen. 

I returned for breakfast rather weary, as I had clambered around a good deal on the foothills. Right at the foot of the mountain, in a secluded valley and an even more secluded position, is the women's prison, called the Female Factory. This should really lead me on to give an account of the conditions under which the convicts are kept, but I shall defer this to the general description of the colony planned for the conclusion.' p99.

Argyle St, Hobart Rivulet inlay.

Friday 14th February, 2014

As mentioned in an earlier post, I too have been waking early, due to the busy container yard behind me. However, I am not up and walking at 5am (yet). On Friday I started the day with a trip on Mona Roma to visit Mona for the first time. It was excellent to view Hobart from the Derwent—we had prime views of Government House nestled in beside the Botanical Gardens. Further round is the enormous Zinc Works, then under the Tasman Bridge, and in 30 short minutes we were ascending the stairs to Mona.

Mona was very interesting (of course), and buzzing with activity, and noisy art. After a few hours I was ready to leave the underground gallery and have some respite from the audio overload that was beginning to rattle me. However, when I realised that I had missed the Simon Starling Cove Park work I headed back down the spiral staircase and watched his anachronistic slide show, back and forth and back again. Marvellous!

Apple Isle

I arrived back in Hobart with enough time to venture up towards West Hobart and the Hobart Rivulet. A couple of people and a guide book had told me about tours of the Hobart Rivulet where you are taken, with torches, underneath the city— the Rivulet encased to make way for the buildings above. The woman at the Tasmanian Tourist Office was quick to tell me that these tours were no longer on offer! Relief might be an understatement—I am not one for enclosed spaces, or for the unlikely events of flash floods. However, I was pleased a few days later to come across the inlay in the footpath outside the hospital on Argyle St. A lovely marker following the direction and flow of the Rivulet as it heads towards the Derwent. (See first pic of this post.)

Further upstream I found some freshly cut willow bark - pinkish dye to come.

Apples orchard ahead, and the low hills described by Von Hügel 

I joined the Rivulet above Molle St and followed it to the Cascade Brewery buildings. The late afternoon time slot meant I was joined by commuters (on foot and treadly), dog walkers and family groups—much like my local creek (the Merri) in Melbourne. Also like the Merri, restoration groups are in evidence, working to recreate habitat for local indigenous critters. Setting it apart from the Merri were the three groups of people collecting blackberries—and the blackberries themselves which were more prolific, juicy and delicious than one would expect to find on the Merri. The drier climate, and the fact that they have probably been sprayed keeps us away!

Veggie patches and private gardens sit upon the banks of the Hobart Rivulet.

Before arriving at the Brewery I too walked past the Female Factory. Now a museum with an entry fee, it seemed an empty shell made up of two large open yards, in fine condition—thanks to the National Council of Women of Tasmania who fought to stop demolition and have the Female Factory recognised as a significant heritage site. Hobart, while vibrant and alive and contemporary, also feels like a city whose early colonial history sits very close to the surface of things.

Female Factory - Yard 1

Female Factory Museum entry

I walked beyond the Brewery, hoping to find passage through to the Pipeworks track. No luck, just No Trespass signs and private tracks. So I about heeled, heading back the way I had come, retracing my footsteps, and Von Hügel's, into Hobart Town. I too felt weary, and happy with the day's reconnaissance. 

Cascade Brewery in the distance, back towards Hobart.