Flappers

10.4.2013

We’ve been across the top of Tasmania from Devonport to Stanley and also through the mountains down to Port Arthur and everywhere in between.  We’re now in St Helens, which is on the Eastern side, and we’re working our way back to Devonport.  If Tassie was a clock we’re at 4 o’clock with Devonport at 12.  We’ve not been down the South Western side because that’s wilderness and national parks.

The story about the old girl and nearly parking in her backyard happened when we were driving up to Moulting Bay.  The gps said to turn right and there was a sign saying it was a no through road.  When you’re free camping a lot of sites are at the end of roads and to see a no through road sign was no big deal.  However, there was a fork in the road and Paula shot out of their car and took the left hand road and Steve took the right hand side and both came back saying there were houses at the end of each road but Paula’s had a field that we could turn around in.

So, into four-wheel drive and up the road we went.  When we were almost at the top this old bird appears, arms flapping like a distressed swan, shouting that this wasn’t the road to the Bay.  Obviously she was right because there was a house plus a garage and Paula’s field was the back yard, perfect for lots of caravans to park on because it was short grass and level but the flapper said we had to get out and that caravans were always coming up her road.

How hard would it be to have a sign erected at the bottom of her drive, where the street sign is to say it’s not the entrance to the Bay?  Steve started turning around in the back yard and the flapping started again when she told him to take a little track which led to the main road.  Paula was hysterical because as Steve had driven over the crest of the drive the caravan had gone into a plastic marker at the side and Paula was trying to hold it up and straighten it before the old bird noticed it was bent.  I had no idea what was going on behind us because I was watching the old bird.  She was like the Road Runner.

So we’d entered at her front, turned around in her middle and exited through her rear.  (Steve’s words, not mine).

She was short tempered with us but Andre’s French accent calmed her down.