Call it a banner day. Not only was I able to enjoy a beer at Australia (and Tasmania’s) southernmost pub, I was able to send out some postcards – all from the same building. What makes these cards especially unique are they were posted from Tassie’s southernmost post office agency!

I know, I know, these cards should show up in your letter… Continue reading →

Funny how things work out. I rode to Australia’s southern-most pub on my $10 dollar bike looking to drink a beer- and learned about crayfish.

Crayfish, or just plain “fish” as they’re called by the Tasmanian fishermen, are what, back in the states, we would call “spiny lobster”. Lacking the great claws known to Maine Lobster eaters,… Continue reading →

PostCards From Tasmania

SOLD OUT … SOLD OUT … SOLD OUT
(The “Postcard from Tasmania” series has sold out. Check back to receive a postcard from one of Bernie’s future adventures.)

Look here Bucky… no one writes you anymore. It just ain’t right. All ya get are emails from friends that can’t write more than 7 words – and 4 of the 7 are abbreviated. Damn. Your mailbox just has a phone bill and and a cable TV offer. Gheezuzzzzzzz.… Continue reading →

To tour Tasmania by horse, which is my dream, I need a horse. Getting one, now that I’m here in Tassie, hasn’t been as easy as downing a Cascade ale, getting rained on or spotting a wallaby at night. After almost three weeks of searching, I still don’t have a Trigger to ride among the gum trees.

So I’ve decided to visit Australia’s southern-most pub on a “tip store” bike. You know, nothing diverts like a diversion. My thought is… Continue reading →

This week I caught a ride into town with Pat and Sylvie Synge. Pat and Sylvie have been hosting me these past days as I look for a suitable mount.

Like most Australians, Pat and Sylvie drive sensible cars – like the Honda that sits in front of their house. Then there’s the Daimler.

Out back in their shed, behind a set of roller doors, lives a… Continue reading →

Think “garden mulch” and usually, we’re talking ground leaves, wood chips, bark or, if you’re around Southern Pines, North Carolina and feeling flush, pine straw.

But seaweed? It’s not something we see lots of back in Carolina.

Not so in Tasmania.

Outside Hobart, I recently visited a garden that featured seaweed mulch… Continue reading →

So just how do you find a suitable means of transport in a foreign land? You could do as I did before showing up. You could trade in precious tea drinking, pipe smoking hours for something much more hazardous – searching the online classifieds.

Total waste of time.

Really, a man wants to buy a horse he should hang out with mule skinners, right? Maybe go to a bar, drink some whiskey. Talk bloodlines, draft, pack saddles and picketing. See… Continue reading →

Walking the streets of Hobart, I ran into a wooly looking creature on a leash manned by a Hemingway-esque looking fellow. Thinking he might steer me in the direction of a suitable mount, I approached the duo. Turned out he didn’t know where I could find the equine I’m questing. But he did shed some light on the critter he was walking – and the island I was visiting. To listen to Ludo Mineur and… Continue reading →