Tasmania :: Day 04 Craggy Peaks :: Mount Rolland to Fingal Valley

As recommended by our friend, Ozlem, we visited the Christmas Hill Raspberry Farm on our way to our next accommodation, Craggy Peaks. There resided a couple of alpacas. One was brown and the other black. It was interesting to watch the difference in personalities. The brown one was gentler than the other but it was very messy with its eating style. The black one was overly confident but was efficient with its food. It scraped the pellets off your hands with its bottom row of teeth. As people were paying more attention to the gentler one, he became jealous and started to bully him by grunting and pushing.

We bought some yummy blackberries, strawberries and raspberries. Even though it would be a good place to hang out, we decided not to have lunch there as we just ate breakfast. The outdoor eating area had a beautiful shady tree. A gated play area was within supervision distance of the benches. We found our calling at the Van Diemen Land Ice Creamery across the gravel road. It was a gorgeous sunny day and we ate ice-creams under a red umbrella.

We bought groceries and drove to Craggy Peaks in Fingal Valley. The car zig-zagged up through the mountains. The road wasn’t busy and it was poorly maintained. We reminded the children of snakes.

Craggy Peaks were in the imposing shadows of purple tinged Ben Ormond. The picturesque site used to be a golf course. There were individual huts and they all orientate towards Ben Ormond as if they were all praying to her. 

After settling in, Kim went fishing with Thomas with a borrowed fishing rod from one of the boys they met there. Those boys advised that they should use cicadas that were roosting on a tree nearby. Kim apologetically pierced these pretty creatures with the hooks and cast the line into the pond. They didn't catch anything. Meanwhile, Ella Mae stayed with me on the deck she painted the landscape around there.

That late afternoon, we went for a short walk. We had no idea where the path started but we soon met David, the owner’s son and his cousin, Gus. Gus accompanied us with his bike until it was too steep. As the path wasn’t well frequented, it was overgrown with vegetation. We heard a creek running on the right side of the path as we made our way up. Victorian Christmas bush and petite sweet busaria were in flower.

While walking, I felt something on my leg. Upon inspection, it was a leech! Unfortunately, I automatically brushed it off before showing it to the others. Luckily it had not latched onto my body.

It was so windy that evening. All night, I could hear it whistling through the valley. I tried to imagine that I was in a flute that was being blown by a pocked face purple giant. I fell asleep with that thought.