Wurst ist gut at Salamanca

One of Hobart's best hangover cures is the Silver Hills Bratwurst stall at Salamanca Market:

Five bucks for a beaut pork wurst with saukraut and proper German senf.

Having said that, nuthin really compares to the real deal in der fatherland:

Bruny Island for the weekend

Katie and I loaded up the trusty 121 and took off for Bruny Island this weekend. We were aiming for the 9.45am ferry on Saturday, but after the inevitable post work drinks (Vic Tav happy hour and then the Marquis of Hastings) with Richard, Ingrid, Ros and Kev, the 11.05 seemed a lot more attainable. The ferry's only half an hour or so, so we were on the island by midday. I don't think I'd been on Bruny since 1992 or so, so it was with a bit of a fresh perspective.

We stopped at the penguin rookery and lookout that's on the neck connecting North and South Bruny, which was quit spectacular. Unfortunately, the only penguin we spotted all weekend was a deceased one on Sunday. It was delicious (Steve). We sampled some of the fine gourmet food that seems to have sprung up as a mini industry on the island (cheese, wine and oysters) on our way around and about. We stayed in a fine example of the Millard fifteen footer at the Adventure Bay (Captain Cook Memorial) Caravan Park.

It was nice being there in the off season, as there were bugger all people around the place. We scoped out a fair bit of the island, from the Cape Bruny lighthouse on the southernmost point, near Pedra Banca rock (where I read the bluefin are biting at the moment), to a brief walk to Grass Point, site of one of the many whaling stations that were quite a part of Tassie's early European history, to Dennes Point and Barnes Bay in the North. With plenty of spectacular scenery in between.

The fishing wasn't too much to write home about. Well not for me, anyway. People seemed to be landing some decent squid at the Adventure Bay jetty, but my brilliant new squid jig just wasn't bringing 'em in. ....

Anyway, it was tops to get away from Hobart for the weekend. The first real roadtrip we've done since our return. And the weather was dry. Bloody cold, but dry.

There's some more photos of our adventure right here.

Remembering James, 5 years on

This week marked the fifth anniversary of James being knocked off his bike and killed in London. His friends and family got together in london and Hobart to toast, talk, ride, and remember him. In London, a posse went down to Mosquito Cycles, polished the plaque that's there in his memory, put a new sprig of Eucalyptus Risdonii behind it, and had some chips and Guinness. In Hobart, a few of us went for a quick ride up the rivulet track after work, and then down to Knopwood's for a few bevvies in the big guy's honour.

There's some photos from both ends of the earth here.

And here's some press Steve got in the UK regarding James and the Ghostcycle project.