WHERE IS IT?

Hobart is built on the slopes of Mount Wellington and overlooks a great waterway which is mainly the release to sea of the River Derwent. From the top of Mt Wellington, at over 3,000 ft, you can see Saltwater River in the far distance.






Its only 20 - 30 Kms away as the crow flies, but to get there you have to drive around Frederick Henry Bay and Norfolk Bay, and out onto the Tasman Peninuslar, "convict country" (more on this later), about 100 Kms or 1.5 hrs travel. Its a narrow windy road.









If you ever have the urge to visit you'll really need this map, and otherwise just follow the signs. It's clearly marked. A9 to Port Arthur, turn right onto B37 just after the Tassie Devil Park at the far end of Taranna, turn right at the Premaydena Store onto C341, then left up our shared gravel road when you see the Hoyle's milk can post box with their name and the number 717 on it.



I always feel the trip is like getting in a shower to wake yourself up in the morning, it works on you, sinks in, and over time your body and mind respond. I feel the city peel away the further I drive from town and the closer I get to Saltwater River. Some of the road is beside water and as I drive I check to see what level the tide is. Views approaching the house are best when the tide's in. Over the crest of the last hill, there's Edwin and Anns little Georgian house perched on the next hill. Cross the estuary on the little old wooden bridge, left into our shared metal drive which runs up the hill. We're at the end, gate No. 719 on the right. The view is stunning!

GETTING IT

We saw it in the Australian newspaper Weekend Magazine, just a litte photo and not much writing. But it seemed to be perched on a hill surrounded, by farm land, overlooking a broad bay. It said a 3-4 bedroom house on a bit over an acre of land at a price of about $80,000.

Rhonda and I had been living in our inner city Sydney house for about 10 years and, to be truthful, we were fed up and ready for a change. We talked about dreams and making some of them come true before it was too late.

I rang the private sale contact number. It was a mobile. She was in Melbourne. I asked questions beyond the picture and print. "Where is the nearest neighbour?" "Oh dear, its a bit isolated I'm afraid." Mmm, getting better. "Is there a road near the house?" "No, there is a 6 acre paddock below the house where the local farmer runs sheep. The road is below that, just before you get to the beach." "So how do you get to the house?" "The access is up a metal road you share with the local farmer." Fantastic! "How old is the house?" "It needs some tender loving care. Its a convict built house about 160 years old. If you want to know more look at our web site. Or maybe you would like to come and look at it next weekend." Mmm. "We'll be there 9.00am saturday morning." "We have to drive out from Hobart. Can you make it 10.00?"

When we saw the house it was everything we had thought it would be and more. Kit and Elizabeth, the owners, obviously loved it. They and their kids had used it as a "shack" (holiday house) for 16 years. They had a strong sense of history and nature and they seemed to be hoping someone with those inclinations would take over the place.

We sat with them in the old kitchen and had a cup of tea. They told us about the creatures that lived in and around the house. And they told us about themselves, an academic background and links to Uni of Tasmania. We discovered we had a mutual friend who had been down and stayed at the house. It all seemed very positive. But then Elizabeth said, "We must tell you we have had over 100 hits on our website, some from other parts of the world. Please don't be concerned but out solicitor has suggested that they contact you and you submit a bid for the property if you are interested." Mmmm, there had to be a snag somewhere didn't there?

But by Easter 2002 we had bought it. During the Easter break we flew down from Sydney to take a closer look.

From the front gate we could see it was old and falling apart but it had heaps of character.

The verandah had been filled in at some stage with weatherboards and windows. There were leaking water tanks all over the place (no sewerage or water service out here). There was a toilet set up on the corner of the front verandah. A septic tank down in the front garden took the toilet waste (well most of it, the rest could be smelled under the front verandah).










The place was overgrown with old plantings, a lot of them climbing roses. This added to the sense of decay but also to the sense of romance.

Patches of external wall had weathered through the soft convict bricks. Thank goodness these old walls are four bricks thick.

The roofing iron looked to be in pretty ordinary condition, however it did not seem to be leaking inside.