Deloraine to Devonport
9 November 2016
Click on the image for a detailed map
Ever since my parents first took me to Cradle Mountain in 1964 or 1965, it has held a strange fascination for me, even though I have seldom been back. I wanted to go there on the CB for three reasons: one because I could; secondly, because there’s some wonderful riding to be had on the way in and out; and finally because it would allow me to ride one of the routes I’d hoped to had I been able to get to the west coast. The only possible downside was the weather: Cradle Mountain is often hidden by low cloud.
And it was a way to spend the day. Deloraine to Devonport via the highway would take a little over half an hour, and I didn’t have to be there until 1700.
So early on a glorious sunny morning, I rode out of Deloraine headed for Mole Creek where there are caves and an interesting wildlife park—well, it was interesting when I was there 20 years ago!
The view south to the Western Tiers between Deloraine and Mole Creek
A busy morning in the main street of Mole Creek
It was an easy and pretty ride to Mole Creek where I refuelled before pushing west towards Cradle Mountain. It’s a lovey ride through farmland, bush and around the base of Mt Roland.
Through the hills to Paradise
At some moment you reach a sign that tells you Paradise is 5 km down the road. Maybe 5 or 6 km later you reach another sign telling you Paradise is 3 km behind you. There was nothing but farmland. Pretty, I grant, but I think I’d hoped for something a little more.
I’m pretty sure Paradise, if indeed it exists, is somewhere around here. That’s Mt Roland in the background.
This is where you discover it’s possible you missed Paradise. My chances of gaining entry are pretty slim, so I didn’t go back to look.
After the sign letting you know you’ve missed Paradise, the road winds its way through a very pretty gorge at Cethana. Climbing up the western side you are on to the Cradle Mountain Road and quite soon into the more lightly vegetated, austere, highland country. The level of cloud cover was increasing and it was cool on the bike.
Mt Roland
The alpine country in Tasmania, although not at all high by world standards, is different to the lower country
I stopped at the entrance to the National Park for coffee and to pay my entrance fee. Only a limited number of vehicles are allowed in the car park at Dove Lake (where the road ends) and the rangers encourage you to take the shuttle. Bugger that! If it were to be one of the days on which Cradle Mountain was visible, I wanted a photo of the CB in front of it.
So, clutching my ticket, I set off and found the boom gate firmly closed against me. I pulled off to the side of the road near the gate, turned off the engine and waited.
I wasn’t there long before a shuttle bus lumbered down the road toward me triggering the exit boom. Somewhat to my surprise it also triggered the entrance boom and in seconds I’d fired up the bike and shot through to enjoy the ride through pretty alpine bush to Dove Lake.
The road into Cradle Mountain
The sun was shining and all of us tourists had a great view of the mountain.
Somehow the photos fail to do it justice. Maybe it’s me, but I find it a grand thing. It’s just under 5,100 ft but only 2,000 ft above the Dove Lake car park. I had a lovely time wandering about in the sun and taking photos.
As I left, there was little traffic, so I parked the CB illegally and leapt off to take a photo of it in front of the mountain. A bus driver strolled over and asked me would I like him to take a photo of me with the bike. I would and he did. And, of course, he’d ridden bikes and maybe even had a Honda 4 back in the day. We had a lovely chat and, with some reluctance I headed off.
This sign was beside Dove Lake. I suppose the park authorities are worried about them crashing into the lake.
Because I was in no great hurry to leave the National Park, I made my way slowly back, taking in a couple of side roads. I rode past the sign for the start of the Overland Track, described by the Parks and Wildliofe Service as “[url= http://www.parks.tas.gov.au/index.aspx?base=7771 ][i]Australia’s premier alpine walk[/i][/url]”. Although I’ve promised myself I’d make the effort and do it someday, I never have. It’s said to be lovely and you finish to the south beside Lake St Clair.
The beginning of the Overland track with Cradle Mountain in the background
There has been discussion about the wombat on this forum. One of Australia’s marsupials, and not overly large it is still not a creature you want to hit on a motorcycle. I’m not sure I can better Pterodactyl’s description of one:
Mate, that is a Wombat. Natures answer to a bulldozer. A dense muscular form that looks like a small thick tree log has grown four stumpy legs and has been fur upholstered. They are approximately one meter in length when fully grown and weigh in at roughly 35 kilos. They also have a think protective shield of cartilage that they turn on attackers that is almost impervious to harm.
I’m reliably told colliding with a wombat is like crashing into a tree stump. A tree stump with a butt shield! In themselves they pose no huge risk, they are vegetarian and nocturnal of habit. They like to graze on the fresh grass shoots by the road. Sometimes they take a fancy to the grass on the other side of the road. They are not easy to see, particularly on a rainy evening or early morning. Hit one and you will become, at least, part of the scenery.
I mention this because one of the other curious things about wombats is the almost cubical nature of their scat. I found a particularly fine example at Cradle Mountain.
I also saw a fine specimen of the animal itself just outside the park boundary, but by the time I could fiddle my camera into life to take a photo of it, the wretched thing had vanished leaving me with an excellent shot of strands of barbed wire.
From seeing the wombat, I made my way west through the Vale of Belvoir, from which you get a final view of Cradle Mountain.
Final view of Cradle Mountain. The cloud covered peak to the right is Barn Bluff
Shortly after this the road descends and you find yourself on the main road linking the west and north west coasts.
The view west from the Cradle Mountain Road
I guess it’s obliging of authorities to build splendid new roads that make life easier for cars and trucks, particularly when they’re kind enough to maintain the older ones. The Cradle Mountain Road is relatively new and makes it much easier to get from the west to the north. When I was a child, the main artery was the A10 which winds through the Hellyer Gorge. On a cold, wet, snowy winter’s night, it’s not much fun. But on a sunny, if cool, day on a CB1100 it’s well worth having a look at.
So at the end of the Cradle Mountain Road, I turned north towards the Hellyer Gorge.
Bushland on the A10
The remains of bushland on the West Coast. It does seem to me a pity that mankind finds it necessary to clear-fell forests
Soon you’re in the winding roads of the Hellyer Gorge.
I stopped at the bottom and had a walk around.
On a camper van at the Hellyer River crossing. Seemed good advice to me.
Lanyard cam was all out of batteries by then, so there are very few more photos. I rode north a way and stopped at Yolla for fuel and something to eat. It was only 1230 or thereabouts and I still had four and a half hours before I had to be on the ferry. I ate lunch and rode to the top of the hill in Yolla where I could get a mobile signal and studied the map.
There was nothing for it really, but to head out to the coast, hit the main road and then head back inland in a sort of ‘U’-shape. The bonus was another trip through the gorge at Cethana, with a brief digression to look at the man-made lake.
I also managed to ride down a very winding road to look at Lake Barrington, home of Tasmania’s rowing events, before making my way to Devonport and the ferry.
I had booked a shared cabin as a way of keeping the cost down. By the time I’d got aboard, showered and sorted myself out, we were pretty much under way and I thought I was going to luck out and have the place to myself. When I got back after dinner, I found I had a cabin mate, a very nice bloke with some interest in restoring motorcycles. More interestingly perhaps he lived in Paradise, although he was not all that keen to be precise about where it is!
Click on the image for a detailed map
