The final post.

Ben's in Tassie - The final post.

This story began with Ben riding onto the boat and sailing to Tassie. Lots of people have holiday adventures like that but our traveller, after years of medical concerns, had health on his mind. Now, nearly 18 months later, he's back on the mainland and health is still a major concern. The good news is that the worst of the recent health crisis appears to be over and the slow process of recovery has begun. It's time for the Ben's in Tassie "travel blog" to come to a close. Ben may one day write his own story. He does write, or at least he did last year. We'll finish with a favourite photo taken at The Sideling when the trip began and another taken recently from a warm sunny Weldborough looking eastwards towards Little Plains.

The beginning.

The end.

Farewell to Weldborough.

The weather has been kind with cloudless blue skies but the air has been bitterly cold. Last night the pines, or maybe it was the redwoods, played their games making blustery winds sound like rain. Yesterday lunchtime, the little black Honda had a final run up through the pass, down into the valley and back. Even though the bike ran well, its rider, now more experienced, found little enjoyment in the trip. Memories were sparked by places all along the road; exploring the mossy green myrtle forest, phoning home from the scenic lookout, climbing to the former campsite high above the plains, chasing the rumbling red monster down the highway, stopping for fuel at the roadhouse, dining at the dairy cafe.

The cottage has been cleaned and furniture rearranged. The car, converted to "cargo mode", is crammed with possessions. With a little help from a friend, the bikes have been loaded onto the trailer and safely tied down. Trailer wheels are firmly attached and will be re-checked en route to Devonport. A few items have been left in storage in case we decide to fly-drive one day: a large tent, camp stove and all the fossicking gear. Other items have been given away, including food which some of the locals were grateful to accept.

It's cold in the cottage. The fire was never lit during our stay, the electric heater, used sparingly, is off and several layers of unfashionable clothing keep the wearer reasonably warm; except for the fingertips because it's impossible to type while wearing gloves. Cold fresh air was one of the original goals of the trip but ideals have rapidly shifted recently and I'm stuck in the past again; picking up the pieces and struggling to understand what's happened.

Through the window, across the cemetery road and a now-vacant cow paddock, beyond a row of pines and myrtles, the white walls of the hotel shine in sunlight. The orange-capped phone box, a reassuring distant glow at night, stands empty. With nearly everything packed, there's not alot to do: no dog to be walked, no one to hunt gems with and even the hotel is closed on Mondays during winter.

Evening descends at 5pm, it's perfectly still outside with crystal clear skies and the prospect of a decent morning frost. Due to poorly-timed generosity, the larder is empty and tonight's dinner is a toast medley: toast and peanut butter for entree followed by toast and vegemite for a tasty main course followed by toast and blackberry jam for sweets. All washed down with a steaming mug of Earl Grey to cure hiccups from eating too much toast.

Another winter solstice.

© Ben. 2012.

It's the shortest day, darkest day, not the wettest day but certainly very damp, not the best day that's for sure and last year's was better by far. Despite the dismal weather, Ben's improved these last few days but we're told recovery may take many weeks or months. According to the pamphlet, three people in a hundred suffer this kind of illness. Of the three, only one will recover fully and never experience it again so diligence and great care are most definitely required. Well-meaning efforts to placate and jolly him through will not be enough, we have to trust the medical advice. Looking forward to longer, lighter, drier and happier days. 

Still unwell.

© Ben. 2012.

Ben's at home in Melbourne and still unwell. Nursing staff visit each day and he's also seeing doctors in Box Hill.  Always very quiet, he sometimes does some drawing. Books, videos, TV, motorbikes are all of little or no interest at the moment. Conversation and decision-making are both extremely difficult. He walks the dog most days and we're covering longer distances each time. Doctors continue to adjust medications to find which works best for this particular patient; the latest medication appears to be OK with fewer unwanted side-effects. It does make him sleepy but hopefully, while resting, it's changing the chemistry so the ever-present sadness and worry can be managed.

Spirit of Insomnia.

Another sleepless night as the boat plies its way across the strait at a leisurely 23 knots; smoothly riding a reported three metre swell with just enough sway to make you walk like a drunkard. The “cheap seats” are at the noisy vibrating end of the ship, they face backwards and, if the wind happens to be aft, exhaust fumes sometimes waft inside. A higher deck is mostly deserted but the benches are narrow and hard and there are other impediments to sleep: metal fixtures vibrate loudly at regular intervals and sliding doors crash open and closed; and an empty video game parlour crammed with brightly lit machines that play inane sounds all night long.

Padded benches just under the “do not sleep here” signs in the lounge are more comfortable but word has got around and all spots are taken. There are comfortable benches further along but TV screens blaze throughout the night and it’s impossible to sleep to the sound of long-running infomercials promising healthier skin or better-toned abs. A few screens are tuned to sports channels and it is possible to doze lightly during rugby.

Other insomniacs wander the decks; some brave the outdoors to sample the bracing night air and smoke a cigarette, others happily tell you about free tea and coffee available in the diner before it opens for breakfast, others do Sudoku and one nerdy person whiles away the hours writing.

Of course there are cabins which, for extra cost, provide a proper bed if you don’t mind sharing with strangers of the same gender. Some might like it but I just feel uncomfortable. Once, owing to a fortuitous free upgrade, I travelled in a deluxe cabin complete with porthole and situated near the pointy end of the ship. That’s the way to go if you can afford it! However, if “day tickets” were available for night sailings, I’d buy those, since a good night’s sleep is a very unlikely prospect.

Jazz leaves Tas.

Destructing the
dog house.

Full load - riding the
bump stops.

Room for two only.

Rest break at Myrtle Park.

Waiting for the boat,
Devonport.

Jazz likes this colourful "beanstalk" house in Devonport.

Blue sky red Ducati?

Not a chance! The hope of a last blast through the pass has been dashed by swirling misty rain that's been around for three days. Living in close proximity to a rainforest could be an important factor somehow overlooked when planning to move here. I continue to be amazed (and dismayed) that Ben camped in weather like this with only a motorbike for transport. At the time he seemed determined to stay and we supported from a distance while visiting as often as possible. But it wasn't enough and we missed the clues. If only we'd worked out another way to help, if only... Jazz wisely continues to hibernate in her kennel which will soon be dismantled for transport.

Packing up.

Jazz has returned from the boarding kennels where she had a very active week and thoroughly enjoyed playing with other dogs. Everything in the cottage is being packed and sorted for transportation either on this trip or the next. The trailer now has an extra anchor point in the floor so that two motorbikes can be tied down safely. A second 'trailermate' stand has been ordered online; without it, loading and securing two bikes is just too difficult for one person. Inside, the waterproof bathroom carpet (:() has been re-installed and rooms need to be cleaned and returned to their original configuration. Outside, rain has been falling for the past six hours and it's cold, grey and dull - ideal conditions for editing accounting standards and associated documents. "How's Ben?" you ask. All I know from this distance is that he's home after seven days in hospital. That doesn't mean he's well, it just means he's well enough to go home and continue recovery there. The doctors seemed hesitant to discharge him but were reassured by family that he'd be well cared for, as also happened in Launceston. We all hope that he can settle comfortably and improve at home. Jazz sails home on the boat soon, arriving early Wednesday morning, she'll be pleased to see Ben again.

Next day update: It's still raining!