No rush today – there would be a little riding and sightseeing along the way, but plenty of time to do it. Ultimately, the intent was to get to Arthur River for camp. It meant the main road across the north west of Tassie would need to be done twice.
So, I tried to “ignore” some of the scenery and not visit the towns along that way while heading west so I’d have them “to do” on the way back.
The north north from Cradle Mountain was as usual – sunny sky, boring roads with horrible bends in them, up and down mountains – quite monotonous really 😉 .
This did include a few km of gravel from roadworks. The bike is still covered in mud as I’d arrive just after they sprayed it with water. My guess is it will come of with the bugs when I get home in a few weeks.
The closer I got to Bass Staight, the windier it became. Quite horrible really – gusting at around 30-40 kph from the north east… but at least it was kinda up my jacksie.
I turned south west at around Smithton and headed through the West Tarkine (temperate rainforest) and stopped at the Sumac lookout for a quick detour:
I’ll be honest I did expect a little more. Perhaps I was a little harsh – maybe comparing it to the Daintree or Cradle Mountain (both very different).
Anyway, looping around the next stop was Couta Rocks. The landscape had changed from mountain ranges to forest to coastal plain and the area I was now riding through was quite baron.
I arrived at the turnoff for Couta Rocks. I assume this was a little fishing village, but unfortunately, since it was at the end of what seemed to be another long gravel road I was never going to find out. It was a sunny day, but the wind had picked up even more and had become quite difficult. The bike was listing sideways to keep going straight, and my neck was beginning to strain also.
Not far up the road was Arthur River… a little more civilized as it was sealed. I was intending to pitch the tent here but the wind was really giving its all. I did not want to stop here so I bailed. The road had looped around and essentially put Smithton back in my sights. Stanley would have been a lovely place to camp, but it would have been even more exposed.
I arrived in Smithton still in a howling wind, but not enough to prevent the tent from going up. The guy running the place put me in a good spot that was quite protected… well, better than out in the open. I used pretty much every tent peg I had in my possession, and my choice of the Vango Sigma 300+ tent would be tested tonight.