With Cradle Mountain conquered, we set off for our next destination – the capital city of Tasmania, Hobart, a mere 243 clicks away.

There where multiple route options of similar length, so we opted to take the one that took us past the “Great Lake”. Indeed, it was a pretty big lake and the road (gravel at points) took us around it.

After we put the lake behind us, we stopped in a town called Bothell for lunch.  Bothell is home to Australia’s oldest golf course (1822!) and Lonely Planet stated that “worthy eating options are thin on the ground” – but we managed to find a lovely cafe that had fresh pies (of the meat variety) for lunch.  Yum! Sufficiently full, we continued on to Hobart and arrived around 3pm.  After checking into the hotel, we explored the CBD area and found some burgers for dinner.  Still sufficiently wiped out from our hike the previous day, we settled into the hotel room for a few beers and some BBL cricket.

The next morning (Christmas eve) – we headed down to the docks to board the ferry that takes you to MONA – the Museum of Old and New Art.  The ferry was well appointed with a cafe and many different seating options.  Being the mature adult I am, I immediately headed for the sheep.

We settled in for short 30 minute ride to the museum.   Or is it a Bond villain’s lair?

Sticking to its villain lair reputation, you enter the museum and immediately head down 4 stories on a spiral staircase to start your tour.  The museum lived up to its name having both old and new art.  I can’t say I know much about art, but I found most things in the museum interesting.  There was a big exhibit by Gilbert & George, which we saw first.

We toured around and took everything in.  I particularly liked the chubby Porsche.

It took a few hours to wind our way back to the surface.  We saw a bit of “normal” art and heaps of “not-so-normal” art – for instance a machine that has scheduled feedings and poopings.  Once we were done, we jumped on the ferry to head back to Hobart.

That evening (after doing some legwork to figure out what would be open) – we headed out for a nice steak dinner in Salamanca Place – a neighborhood in Hobart famous for its Saturday market.  After dinner, we set out to find the Christmas tree we had read about in the paper.  The locals were upset that $35,000 was spent on this:

I felt more like I should be “airing my grievances” and participating in “feats of strength” near this group of Festivus poles arranged carefully into a tree.  I tend to agree with the citizens of Hobart that this is a debacle of a Christmas tree.  We grabbed a few good beers at a bar nearby and drank outside enjoying the last of the day’s light at 9pm.

Christmas morning we decided to head up to Mt Wellington, which overlooks Hobart.  There were quite a few others with the same idea, but still plenty of room for us.

Great views were abundant and we took them all in, along with a strong breeze.

It was a cracker of a day, with a top of 35 Celsius (do the math if you want to know 9/5C + 32 = F).  So, we headed to the beach and even went all the way into the fairly frigid water.  No sharks or crocodiles were seen.

After enjoying the sun an water for a bit, we headed back to the hotel.  Then we found a wonderful Indian restaurant for Christmas dinner.

A cool change swept through on Christmas night and we awoke on Boxing Day to a rainy 18C day.  We had another drive in front of us so we had made a pact to do the Hobart parkrun in the morning – a free, timed 5K.  It was rainy and miserable, but it made us get out and run on a day we were otherwise destined (by weather and our drive) to do very little activity.

After a nice warm shower, we packed up the Yaris and pointed it north towards St Helens.