Making sloe gin

The kindness of friends in our local community in making sure we had food in the house during our self-isolation period after returning from Germany has been extremely humbling. While I feel a little guilty as I am not sick (touch wood), I am so very grateful. Without their support and offers of help, it would have been challenging to have a normal-ish life at home. These lovely people have dropped off milk, bread, eggs, vegetables, home made soup, Tim Tams and even great German beer, which will be perfect for washing away the disappointment of cutting short our holiday.

Among the doorstep deliveries was a bag of sloes. Sloe gin is something I hadn't tried until moving to Tasmania. My top tips for the local ones would be those from McHenry and Nonesuch Distillery, quite different but both delicious. Now I'm about to try making some myself, using this recipe from 'Gourmet Farmer' Matthew Evans. We'll get to find out what it tastes like in somewhere between three and six months time.

The train that never was

During our trip to Tasmania's wild west coast just before Christmas, we had booked a full day trip on the West Coast Wilderness Railway from Strahan to Queenstown and return. Unfortunately, just 15 minutes into the journey the loco broke down and we were returned to the main station with a full refund. The staff were all really good about it. And at least we have completed half of the journey before. We'll go back one day no doubt.

So that left us with a lot of free time that day. I sat on the front verandah of the terrace cottage we were staying in with views over Macquarie Harbour and read most of Tasmanian author Heather Rose's terrific book Bruny.  Before dinner, we went to see the longest running play in Australia (25 years and still going strong), The Ship That Never Was. It didn't sound like quite my thing and we were in two minds about going, but with unexpected free time we decided to go. I'm glad we did. The cast tell the story of a group of convicts who stole a ship being built at the Sarah Island penal settlement and sailed to South America - but in a fun, entertaining and participatory kind of way. Heave-ho.

The wild west

I took the week of my birthday off work. David and I drove via Queenstown to Strahan on the wild west coast of Tasmania, a five hour trip from our place. I had been there once before, at the start of the Tasmanian Leaders program, when it was 30+ degrees for four days straight! This was the first time we've been there together. The highlight was absolutely the Gordon River Cruise. David had booked so long ago that we had the very front seats upstairs. The staff were friendly, the food delicious and it was incredible to see Hells Gates, Sarah Island and a glimpse of the World Heritage Wilderness in Tasmania's south west. I am thankful for those who fought for its existence. We also visited the extensive West Coast Heritage Centre museum in Zeehan and walked to Montezuma Falls and Hogarth Falls, two of the 60 Great Short Walks in Tasmania. A good short break.

Heartbreaking

Almost ten years in Tasmania and it doesn't get any easier to see the large number of dead native animals on our roads. But this morning's roadkill sighting as I jogged back down New Road in Franklin was particularly devastating. A dead pademelon, and less than a metre away, her dead joey. I shed a little tear as I moved them off the road.

In the nine years we lived at the very top of that road, I was lucky not to have hit any animals, but we saw hundreds dead on the road in that time. Mostly pademelons, wallabies and possums, a couple of our beloved wombats and some bandicoots. Many of them are killed thanks to people driving too fast for the conditions, especially at dusk. But sometimes they just hop out of the bush and straight under your car, and you've no hope of seeing them in time. Poor little guys.

Happy as a pig in mud at #HVMWF 2019

As a bloke in the queue at the bar said to me when I went to fetch a hot spiced cider, "Gumboot people are happy people!" As nice as it would have been to don tatters, face paint and fancy headpieces (we saw lots of beautiful examples), I was extremely happy with my choice of clothing for the Huon Valley Mid Winter Festival on Friday night. I counted the layers I was was wearing - six in total on my upper half! Plus thermals under my jeans and long socks in my gum boots. And I was warm as toast. There was a serious amount of mud, a little rain and a whole lot of happy punters. As I have said before, these people know how to run an event. There is plenty of seating, lots of toilets, undercover areas, fire pits to warm up by and friendly volunteers with a sense of humour. And that's before the great selection of food and beverages, sculptures and awesome music acts. Despite the testing weather conditions, there were plenty of interstate and international visitors. I had squid from the fire bugs at Tasman Quartermasters, some tasty fries, croquettes from Eten and one of Yeastie Beastie's fabulous doughnuts. With hot spiced Willie Smith's Cider in hand, we ran into a few groups of friends and made it out of the paddock car park without needing to be towed out of the mud. Happy days!

Ravens

"So what are you up to on the weekend?" my work colleague asked me on Friday afternoon.

"Well, on Sunday afternoon we're going to drive about an hour south of us to Hastings Caves, where we'll get on a bus to take us deep into the southern forests at dusk, to listen to the sound of ravens coming in to roost for the night, then get back on the bus and come home again."

I realise how odd that sounds, unless you've been to anything that's part of the Dark Mofo festival before perhaps. This particular event is called Hrafn: Conversations with Odin, a sound installation by renowned sound artist Chris Watson whose works have been heard around the world and who has previously worked with Sir David Attenborough.

The installation is part of the $2 million Project X, designed to bring visitors to the Huon Valley to aid in recovery after the devastating bushfires early this year. The fires damaged much of the Tahune Airwalk, one of the region's main tourist attractions, and it's not expected to reopen until late 2019. The project has copped criticism, as it was always going to. But good things always do, and same old, same old isn't going to bring people here, when everyone loves the new and different. Hrafn is on from Thursday to Sunday next week as well, read more and get your tickets here.

Dinner at one of the Huon Valley's restaurants and cafes is part of the Hrafn experience. Last night we enjoyed a delicious meal of beef curry (David) and seafood chowder (me) sitting by the wood fire at The Bears Went Over The Mountain (or The Bears for short). We actually hadn't been in there since a stop for Devonshire tea during a holiday in Tasmania more than 10 years ago. It's been renovated to a larger, light and bright space with yummy scones and plenty more on offer. The Bears is licensed with a nice range of Tasmanian ciders, wines and soft drinks. Now we know, we'll go back for sure.

Paint the town red

Each year, businesses in the south of Tasmania are encouraged to light up in red in support of the Dark Mofo festival, the annual winter art and music festival run by the team at MONA. Whether it's red lighting, red coloured food and drinks or limited edition red packaging, many businesses get into the spirit of this fantastic festival that brings many visitors to the state. The idea is to create a great experience for tourists and local festival-goers as they travel around the Hobart area. As we now live on the main road and David runs his technology help business from here, we decided to light up the Franklin Old Bank in red too. Spooky huh! I love this time of year.

Last days of summer

Tasmania has turned on some stunning weather to close out summer - the official dates anyway. In reality December isn't really summer yet and it does extend into March. We've had bright, warm sunny days and glorious evening skies. Perfect for being outdoors and having all the windows open.

Misinformation, attention-seeking and other bad bushfire behaviour

It has to be said. Well, I feel the need to say it, so here goes. During the recent bushfire emergency here in southern Tasmania, social media was both a source of very useful information (how good are the Tasmania Fire Service, Tasmania Police and TasAlert?) and a cesspit of exaggerated claims, misinformation, unsubstantiated drama, attention seeking and just plain silly behaviour. Among the rubbish I saw online during the two weeks of high alert included:

• Geeveston is being evacuated!! Everyone is being door-knocked and told to leave!!! (Actually no, they weren't).
• Photos of people in the centre of town and many miles from the fire front hosing down their houses using town water, encouraging others to do the same. At one point, Geeveston (which really did need the water at that point) almost ran out, not helped by this crazy over-preparedness no doubt. I reckon any work you do hosing down stuff that far in advance is a waste of time and will evaporate in minutes with the heat of an approaching fire... but then, I'm not a fire expert so don't take my advice!
• Our whole valley is BURNING!!! 
• The fire has crossed the Huon River!!!
• People misinterpreting the useful data on the Sentinel Hotspots web site from Geoscience Australia.
• Some folk were driving up roads with active fires just to take photos for Instagram. I saw videos of flames licking the edges of Bermuda Road (what the hell are you doing there taking video?!) and photos of smoldering tress taken up our road while the fire service was still backburning and creating fire breaks. Seriously, get out of the way and let the firies do their job.
• A couple of very good local photographers took some amazing shots of the fires at night, making it clear that the photos were taken with a zoom lens - which people then re-posted as if the fire was bearing down on them.

One of my neighbours lives on her own up here hear the forestry and was so anxious for five days before we actually needed to evacuate that she called or texted me almost every hour, asking "should we leave yet? Are you leaving now?" This wasn't helped by the misinformation and drama she was hearing. Please, before you post a dramatic, dare I say inflammatory, post on social media in an emergency situation, get your facts straight and think about the potential impact of your post on people who are already stressed and anxious. There's a reason the Tasmanian Fire Service alerts seem a little vague - everyone needs to make the best decision for themselves at the time based on known facts. What's right for a fit couple with the equipment and will to defend their own property is probably not right for a frail elderly person, someone with severe asthma or a family with five children and a menagerie of animals.

A couple of days after we were able to return home, I received an invitation to join a Facebook group that aims to help people near the Tahune fire to communicate. I love what the group admin had to say about sharing information in the group:

*** Please make sure that any information you share is ACCURATE. By accurate, we mean from TFS, police, a 100% accurate conversation you have had with someone on site or you have seen it with your own eyes, NOT what your mate heard from someone else. We don't want people scared for no reason. Also, when regarding your safety, ONLY follow advice from emergency services! Stay safe!

Hear, hear.

A couple of other tips that might be useful if you're thinking about how to prepare for the increased likelihood of extreme weather events in the future:

• Put a computer backup strategy in place now, well, before disaster strikes. What about all those photos on your home PC? My husband David runs a computer help business and was contacted by customers wanting to know what to do when it was really too late to be thinking about it. You can read his article about it here.
• Internet-connected security cameras are a good investment for peace of mind. They can send you alerts and allow you to monitor what's happening at your back door when you are not there. Ours allowed us to know that we still had power and a house! And we saw when the firies door-knocked to check that no-one was still home in our road when the fire was getting close. Totally worth it.

Security camera shot of the firies door-knocking our place.

After the fires

On Monday we were able to return home, thankful and relieved. Hooray! We did a huge pile of washing and emptied and repacked our suitcases (properly this time) in case we needed to evacuate again. Made a dash to the vet as our old dog Baerli didn't seem well. There was still thick smoke and a constant stream of fire trucks and heavy equipment going up our road and choppers going over which made me uneasy, but we found out they were back burning and clearing fire breaks behind us. The yard and paddocks are littered with blackened leaves and chunks of bark. Things could have been a whole lot worse.

Our kind host during the time we were away from home had warned me that the time after the fires might be hard. That coming down after being in a constant state of worry and high alert can take its toll. The Beyond Blue web site has some information on looking after yourself after a disaster, but somehow I don't feel like David and I experienced a "disaster" as such - we are safe and well, as are our animals and the house. It's 10 years since the horrific Black Saturday fires in Victoria, which killed 173 people. We know how lucky we are that Tasmania has seen no loss of life in the current spate of bushfires.

I confess I've wished our house had burned down. Only a fleeting thought, but the "what if" discussions (and black humoured banter) between us and our dear neighbours during the evacuation time sparked my imagination. Maybe we could just pack up and go housesitting around the world, use the insurance money to buy a nice camper and go sit next to a beach for a while, rebuild the kind of home we'd really like... or any number of new and interesting options. Instead, it's back to the grindstone and struggling with two weeks of backlog at work, a pile that I can't see any way out from. Nothing exciting ahead.

Today it's raining, good solid rain that should dampen the fires that are still burning out of control around the state, help consolidate the work of the firefighters, refill our tanks and make the garden happy. We've had 30mm today and it looks like the rain is falling where it is needed here in southern Tasmania. For that I am grateful. And happily, Baerli has perked up again now that the weather is cooler and she's back in her favourite spot on the lounge.

Limbo land

Like most people in the Huon Valley right now, we sit and wait. Wait to find out if our homes will be spared from an approaching inferno. We wonder how all our friends are faring. I worry about everything, real (like whether my chickens still have any water) and imagined. It's quite nerve wracking. Today, Walkley award-winning cartoonist First Dog on the Moon, who lives on the other side of the river from us, posted a series of vignettes accurately summing up how it feels to be here.

A couple of weeks ago, David and I were sitting at our kitchen bench after dinner, when a large black cloud moved overhead and we heard rolling thunder in the distance. It was pretty impressive, and a sound we don't hear often in Tasmania. We looked out the window to see great bolts of lightning far to the south west of us. Shortly afterwards the Tasmanian Fire Service web site lit up with alerts. It turned out those dry lightning strikes sparked a lot of fires around the state, particularly in the south west wilderness area. Many miles from us.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, it's a Wednesday night and we (David and I and the two dogs) have been staying with dear, kind friends in Huonville since Sunday night. A week ago, some fires started by that lightning had spread to become a larger one that threatened the Tahune Airwalk, a tourism attraction attraction run by Forestry Tasmania. Yesterday, photos revealed some of the damage it sustained. The smoke last Tuesday was awful, although the fire was still around 17km from our house. We put our bushfire survival plan into action, packed important documents like insurance papers, some clothes, toiletries, dog food, the chainsaw (in case of fallen trees), computer backups and so on. Both cars were ready to go. David cleared all our gutters and removed anything wooden or explosive from around the house. One of our neighbours who lives on her own was very anxious and starting calling or texting me every hour, asking "should we go yet"? But the alert level in our area was just "watch and act", with no need to evacuate. You just need to prepare and stay informed.

Last Friday was expected to be a horror day for bushfires, with temperatures around 36 degrees and high winds. At that point, our friends Scott and Karla made the offer that should we need to evacuate, we could bring the dogs and stay with them. I was so grateful, but as Friday passed and was fairly uneventful, we didn't really think we'd need it. But by Sunday the fire was a lot closer, and our power went out in the afternoon. We couldn't see what was coming, and facing the prospect of no water or electricity up in the hills near forestry, we decided it was time to leave.

So now we're now waiting, waiting, in a kind of limbo land. It seems quiet, we know our home is still there (our security camera at the front door is still sending images), but we also know the nearest fire in the last 24 hours was at best guess 1.8km from our house (see map below where I've circled our house in red). It doesn't take much for that to turn bad and the TFS agrees. So for now we are staying put. It's hard to concentrate on anything. I am constantly checking everything from the TFS alerts to ABC Radio bushfire emergency updates at quarter to the hour, Facebook (more on that separate disaster zone later) to weather apps and the Sentinel Hotspots site, hoping to glean information. Or we are checking in on friends, calling, texting or popping in to visit those who are camped at the evacuation centre at Huonville PCYC. It's kind of shocking to see your town's name on the TV list of emergency zones - see photo below.

The first big lesson I've learned so far is not to underestimate the amount of time you may be away from home if you have to evacuate in an emergency. We packed enough fresh clothes for maybe four or five days, but the friends we are staying with once had to evacuate for three weeks from a fire in NSW! We really thought that in three days either we would have lost our home or the danger would have passed and we could go home. Now I see how this could easily stretch on, with peak bushfire season in Tasmania being in February and so many fires out of control in wilderness areas that could potentially encroach on population centres.

The second thing this has shown me is the incredible support that people give each other in times of crisis. So much kindness, generosity and plain smart thinking. We live in a wonderful community. I am in awe of the firefighters trying to keep this beast at bay and keep people and property safe. And the helicopter pilots, the police, the volunteers and local council and so many others. Tensions are high and they must be truly exhausted in these conditions. We thank them from the bottom of our hearts.

 

Hazy days of summer

The evening before last we sat at the kitchen bench eating dinner, as a large black cloud moved across the sky, wiping out the afternoon sunshine. Then the thunder rolled in, in great heavy waves, with brilliant flashes of lightning to the south of us. The storm wasn't close, but still impressive. Shortly afterwards, the Tasmanian Fire Service web site lit up with alerts of bushfires all around, across the river and in the great wilderness to the west. One was quite close to us in Glen Huon, but by the next morning it had dropped off the alerts list. Since then the smell of smoke has hung thickly in the air and the mountain range we normally look out at has disappeared behind the smoke. There's more hot weather forecast. I hope everyone stays safe.

Maria Island Walk

Last week I spent four glorious days on the Maria Island Walk, a gift from my wonderful husband. Together with a couple from Sydney, a couple from New Zealand and our two guides, I trekked along beautiful white beaches, climbed up Bishop & Clerk, stalked wombats, listened to the birds and learned about the island's fascinating history. Our guides prepared delicious meals, from pancakes for breakfast cooked on the barbecue to fresh salads and rolls for lunch, a range of sweet treats for morning or afternoon tea, to risotto, mushroom soup, even quail for dinner. And a good range of Tasmanian cheeses, beers and wines to sample. The outdoor hot showers at the camps were a real treat at the end of the day too (pictured below). Luxury hiking at its best.

I took a notebook and pen, planning to write about the experience and other random thoughts as I normally do when travelling, but my head was completely empty. No thoughts at all really, except where to place my foot next. No decisions to be made other than whether to have a glass of pinot gris or pinot noir. It was the perfect brain cleanser at the end of a long year. Highly recommend this trip if you want to get away from it all for a few days.

The year of the echidna

Last week a neighbour gave me a lift down the road to the monthly movie night at the Palais (we saw The Merger, a terrific Aussie film, you must see it). He remarked that he's seen many more echidnas this year than in past years. You almost can't drive up or down our road without seeing one of them trundling along or digging into the clay bank on the side of the road. David and I had said the same thing only the day before. We've seen lots of them at our place too, making their way across our front paddock or across the road. One evening we saw our dog Gretchen sitting and staring at something in the corner of the yard. It turned out to be an echidna happily digging its way into an ants nest. This week, I managed to snap a few close ups of another one in almost the same place, pulling up tufts of grass and digging a hole. Echidnas in Tasmania have more fur and fewer spikes than their mainland Australian cousins. Aren't they just gorgeous?