Backo to Tazzo

Saturday, 2 February 2013 – Hobart, Tasmania

Hobart is the capital of the island state of Tasmania. The smallest state in Australia is called "Tazzo" by Australians who have a penchant for shortening place names and then adding an "O". I've been to Hobart three times before, starting in the early 1990s. Except from the rotating cell tower sculpture, nothing has changed in Hobo since my first visit. I mentioned this to a nice saleslady during our traditional activities of the replacement of the broken cheap watch and the time honored tightening of the eyeglass downtown, oh downto I mean. She said, "Sir, we like it that way." I guess maybe there's a bit of defensiveness about Tasmania having little money over the years for redevelopment. Oh well.

Hobart is really a lovely city. It's located at the end of a 30 mile estuary (more later), has pleasant weather, and is set at the foot of 5000 foot high Mount Wellington.  We sailed in early Saturday after a most beautiful sunset the night before at the end of a rather smooth crossing from New Zealand of the often torturous Tasman Sea. The water was not completely smooth but a lot better than it could be. Besides the final resolution of our various infrastructure failures, we had a pretty busy agenda of "self exploration" as our tour desk manager calls not buying tours from him. We visited the early Tasmanian settlement at Battery Point where original cottages were built around a very picturesque park and then headed into town for our shopping and repair chores. As we ascended the hill to Arthur Circus on Battery Point, a fellow guest who was coming down from the site warned us, "There's nothing there but houses on a park." Clearly a student of culture and architecture, his suite on Silver Whisper must be across the aisle from the friendly neighbors who always have their friendly welcome sign out.

Before returning to the ship we visited the war memorial and then mid afternoon we transferred down the estuary, attempting to severe a nice sailing regatta and watching the bunch of leaping dolphins who thought that was funny, to the infamous Port Arthur prison. There psychological torture of prisoners was said to be invented, I guess just because sending loaf of bread thieves to the other side of the world to die wasn't bad enough. After picking up a bunch of guests who had bused to the prison to be cheered up, we then sailed around the southeast corner of Tasmania where 1000 foot basalt columns make for a most remarkable sight.