TIME TO SEE THE VIEW

A stuffed radiator in my car caused me to rethink how I was going to get to Hobart and back for Jack Jumper treatment No 2. Opted for the bus, a mode of transport I haven’t used in many a year, but in the end the two and a half hour journey proved to be something of a blessing.

When you’re whizzing along the highway you do notice things along the way, but they’re somewhat in the periphery due to the necessity of concentrating on the job of driving. From the elevated perch in the bus though, and seeing as someone else was doing the driving, I was treated to being able to leisurely take in the passing scenery in more detail.

A maintenance truck coming towards us on the train line, they do look weird when they do that, gorse spreading like a cancer wherever it could take hold, the Poms have a lot to answer for besides importing rabbits when they decided to bring in that pest of a thing. Towering Hawthorn hedges in bloom in pink and white, or bloomin’ hawthorn hedges for those who don’t like them because they block the view. Canola, GM or otherwise, growing prolifically by the side of the highway having escaped the confines of their paddocks.

All along the way Tasmania’s convict and cultural heritage was evident, an abundance of historic homes, some humble, others more stately, both privately owned as well as providing tourists with many choices for where to stay the night. The popularity of historic towns Ross and Oatlands was evident by the number of tables occupied outside cafes as people enjoyed their morning coffee in the sunshine.

Roadside sculptures, black swans on the Derwent River at Bridgewater, including the mother swan and her five cygnets I’d spotted last week, bright pink and red pigface cascading down the grassy banks on the approach to Hobart, memorials of flowers attached to trees and telegraph poles marking the place where loved ones had lost their lives. To top it all off, gazing out of the café window during the afternoon on busy Liverpool St, several seagulls were taking the risk of retrieving the remains of someone’s dropped lunch from the middle of the road as all manner of vehicles sped past. Quite comical, they weren’t satisfied until they had it all, no matter how many times they had to weave in and out of the traffic.

It does you good sometimes to stop and have a decent look at what’s going on around you. We can miss so much as we hurtle along, often with blinkers on so we’re not distracted from the seemingly oh so important things we’re doing. I know it did me good to be a passenger for a change, not to be in the driver’s seat, so I could delight in the little details.