Deep in the south west at the end of the remote Gordon River Road sits the amazing Gordon Dam, an engineering feat of supernatural proportions. Built over five years and opened in 1974, Tassie’s largest dam is the beating heart of the state’s much maligned hydro-electric revolution. Standing 140m high and some 200m wide, the mind boggles as to how man trumped nature to build this concrete giant. Just peering over the unmanned fences into the abyss below was enough to give Kris sweaty palms, but bold ol’Marit descended the 200-plus steps to take a walk along the top of the massive dam.
Just 2.2m of concrete stand between the Gordon and Pedder lakes, the water behind the dam equal to 27 times the volume of Sydney Harbour (we love useless facts!) 183m below the ground the Gordon power station generates about 15 per cent of the state’s electricity underlying the significance of hydro-electricity to Tasmania’s power needs. What was once a bustling town for workers, Strathgordon is today a ghost town – surely the only built up area in Tasmania without a pub or post office.
The subsequent flooding of Lake Pedder has created a magnificent sight, but you’re left with a bitter sweet taste in the mouth in knowing that this huge expanse of water shouldn’t really be there. Swimming in the lake is surreal: a half meter of pristine clear water sits atop a black unknown that drops down tens of meters and is home to some of the biggest fresh water trout in the world (fishermen have caught trout here weighing up to 25kg!)
Ted’s Beach is a beautiful spot on the lake shore and is where we laid our heads on our penultimate night of camping. In the morning we started on our final leg back to Hobart, passing through a small community of environmentalists living in trees in protest of the region’s long established logging industry. While regulated and controlled many of these tree hugging hippies have spent year upon year clashing with loggers and trying to de-road trucks. Their reasons might be honourable, but in targeting the mere pawns in the environmental game their tactics are not.
“Give a toot if you’re against dead wood,” reads one sign hanging high above the road. The activists will not be moved in their battle to save the trees – in the aptly named Styx Valley of the Giants white trunk eucalyptus trees stretch over 90m into the sky making them some of the world’s tallest hardwoods. Ironically, the activists flow to the region from Europe and America; you’d be hard pressed to find a Tasmanian championing their cause.
Lunch at Hobart’s prestigious Moorilla wine estate reminded us of what we’d been missing for two weeks. This majestic vineyard come winery is home to some of Tasmania’s finest vinos – we couldn’t help but take advantage of another free tasting! We must have looked like hobos when we strolled through the winery doors, but nothing was going to stop us getting stuck into some fine wine even if we did smell like road kill! Better still, the winery doubles up as a brewery producing the wonderfully fulfilling range of Moo Brew craft ales.
“Not fit for bogans,” reads the Moo Brew logo, what a shame we must have looked like a couple of them as we swayed our way out of the restaurant. Onwards to the little town of Kettering where we found a lovely pub to will away the late afternoon hours before stocking up on wine and cheese and consulting our Irish camping guide one more time.
Our last night in the bush was spent in Gordon, a nothing place on the D’Entrecasteaux Channel overlooking Bruny Island. Determined to enjoy one last fire we eagerly gathered wood and sat back to reflect. Such was the warmth provided by the fire that we were joined soon after by Una and Xavier, a lovely young couple from Belgium whom it seemed, didn’t have much cash to spend. Our donation of left over food and no longer needed camping gear lighting up their faces like the Southern Cross constellation had the night sky.
Just 2.2m of concrete stand between the Gordon and Pedder lakes, the water behind the dam equal to 27 times the volume of Sydney Harbour (we love useless facts!) 183m below the ground the Gordon power station generates about 15 per cent of the state’s electricity underlying the significance of hydro-electricity to Tasmania’s power needs. What was once a bustling town for workers, Strathgordon is today a ghost town – surely the only built up area in Tasmania without a pub or post office.
The subsequent flooding of Lake Pedder has created a magnificent sight, but you’re left with a bitter sweet taste in the mouth in knowing that this huge expanse of water shouldn’t really be there. Swimming in the lake is surreal: a half meter of pristine clear water sits atop a black unknown that drops down tens of meters and is home to some of the biggest fresh water trout in the world (fishermen have caught trout here weighing up to 25kg!)
Ted’s Beach is a beautiful spot on the lake shore and is where we laid our heads on our penultimate night of camping. In the morning we started on our final leg back to Hobart, passing through a small community of environmentalists living in trees in protest of the region’s long established logging industry. While regulated and controlled many of these tree hugging hippies have spent year upon year clashing with loggers and trying to de-road trucks. Their reasons might be honourable, but in targeting the mere pawns in the environmental game their tactics are not.
“Give a toot if you’re against dead wood,” reads one sign hanging high above the road. The activists will not be moved in their battle to save the trees – in the aptly named Styx Valley of the Giants white trunk eucalyptus trees stretch over 90m into the sky making them some of the world’s tallest hardwoods. Ironically, the activists flow to the region from Europe and America; you’d be hard pressed to find a Tasmanian championing their cause.
Lunch at Hobart’s prestigious Moorilla wine estate reminded us of what we’d been missing for two weeks. This majestic vineyard come winery is home to some of Tasmania’s finest vinos – we couldn’t help but take advantage of another free tasting! We must have looked like hobos when we strolled through the winery doors, but nothing was going to stop us getting stuck into some fine wine even if we did smell like road kill! Better still, the winery doubles up as a brewery producing the wonderfully fulfilling range of Moo Brew craft ales.
“Not fit for bogans,” reads the Moo Brew logo, what a shame we must have looked like a couple of them as we swayed our way out of the restaurant. Onwards to the little town of Kettering where we found a lovely pub to will away the late afternoon hours before stocking up on wine and cheese and consulting our Irish camping guide one more time.
Our last night in the bush was spent in Gordon, a nothing place on the D’Entrecasteaux Channel overlooking Bruny Island. Determined to enjoy one last fire we eagerly gathered wood and sat back to reflect. Such was the warmth provided by the fire that we were joined soon after by Una and Xavier, a lovely young couple from Belgium whom it seemed, didn’t have much cash to spend. Our donation of left over food and no longer needed camping gear lighting up their faces like the Southern Cross constellation had the night sky. 
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