Coles Bay, Freycinet National Park and Launceston, Tasmania - 1st December 2008
Car Kilometres: 185,909
Distance Travelled: 618km
Total Distance Travelled: 17,658km

After a fairly lengthy drive, we were happy to stretch our legs with a 1 ½ hour return walk up to the much-photographed-and-with-good-reason Wineglass Bay lookout in the Freycinet National Park. Whilst panting our way up the hill, we were dismayed to see the clouds gathering and the sky darkening with rain... pleasant for walking in, but not so good for a view of the bay once we reached the top. We decided to sit it out, and were rewarded by a showing from the sun, giving us plenty enough time to ogle the view of the, funnily enough, wineglass-shaped golden bay and turquoise waters peeking out from the forest.
We had intended to carry on for another hour or so down to the bay itself, but get distracted chatting to some of the grey nomads and English tourists who clamber up to the viewing platform. Before we know it, we have whiled away a couple of hours and it's time to drive the 30 or so kilometres over to Bicheno for our next adventure... penguin spotting.
Now, we're not holding out too much hope of seeing anything, since the guidebook is superbly vague on the subject, unless we plan to fork out $20 each for a penguin tour. We walk along the coast, heartened by cautionary penguin signs on the nearby roads, and since it's too early for them to appear we admire another rocky blowhole, the red-orange mosses on the rocks at The Gulch and keep a beady eye out for whales.
As the sun starts to get lower in the sky, we still haven't found any interpretive signage, or seen any promising looking footprints. We take a walk along Redbill Beach (where we know one of the tours is based), and hope for the best. Dave spots what looks like a nestling penguin down a hole at the back of the beach, so we settle ourselves on a rock at a respectable distance and quietly wait for dusk. However, as the light drops, two young men with torches head in our direction... it turns out that we are positioned in the prime viewing spot for their penguin tour, and after telling us a few unnecessary tales about it being a private beach (it isn't), and upsetting for the penguins (fair enough if this were their main concern too, but more likely upsetting for the tour company's bank balance... we are told that it's ok to stay put if we buy tickets), we leave while it's still friendly and back off the way we came, a bit disappointed, but happy that we glimpsed a few flippers in the torch light of the young guides as they began their tour.
Annoyed with ourselves with forgetting a torch, we mutter to each other about being too tight for our own good. We hear lots of penguins on their way in from the sea to their nests as we walk, but can't see them - but then spot a bright torch light swinging about on the rocks as we near the end of the beach. I reckon that it's the other tour group in progress, but Dave steps up to investigate, and we're both glad that he did - it's a pair of super friendly Canadian tourists, father and Australian émigré daughter, who enthusiastically share their torch with us while Dave gets some photos and we both goggle at the spectacle of hundreds of tiny fairy penguins hopping out of the sea to their nests behind the rocks and up the beach. We keep our distance from them, but they appear to be utterly unfazed by our intrusion; playing, fighting and waddling around on their way home for the night (the penguins, not the Canadians).
We're both thrilled at such an intimate experience, and can't take the grins off our faces as we hop back into the car, even though our 30km or so drive back to our Coles Bay campsite is at an average speed of 25km's an hour - enforced by our love for animals rather than a speed limit - every few metres we see a pair of eyes or a furry tail, as various possums, wallabies, roos, and other unidentifiable creatures dodge our path. We are relieved to make it back with a kill count of zero, and settle down in our tent for the night, still chattering about our day's experiences.
The following day is our last in Tasmania, and we head north, back towards Devonport for the ferry. On the way, we stop in at the National Automobile Museum of Tasmania in Launceston, and are reliably informed by the curator that 'Lonnie' has come on leaps and bounds from its unsophisticated reputation, originally gained in 1822 (when a visiting reverend thoroughly recommended in a report that they could do with more missionaries). There does seem to be a fair amount of hooning in evidence, and we spot several mullets, but generally there seems to be a gentle, country ambience and there are some handsome buildings and classy restaurants in Tassie's second largest city.
The car museum gives Dave cause to drool, with some fine examples of classic European and American cars and motorbikes, complete with a mint condition Porsche, some flamboyant muscle cars and a huge Thunderbird. However, once I've managed to persuade him that the Falcon will do for now, we set out to get some food - both for lunch now, and for the evening ferry back to the mainland tonight. Lonnie's reputed fancy restaurants proving too much for our frugal wallets, we head to trusty Subway and leave packing a bellyful of meatball sub, with a footlong salami and ham BMT in the bag for later.
We've finished our tour of Tasmania, albeit we've done it somewhat speedily, and we cruise back to Devonport and onto the ferry for the trip back to Melbourne. The cinema offerings this time round are not as interesting, but we enjoy the opportunity to switch off with the film Iron Man, although possibly the various other passengers who snore loudly at inappropriate times throughout the film (for example, in the quiet aftermath following devastating gunfire/explosions) provide greater entertainment.
A broken night's sleep and a bleary-eyed hunt for a camp site ahead of us in the morning ,we troop off to our reclining seats for bed....