I’m kind of in love with north-west Tasmania. My first taste was a whistle-stop tour of the area with my partner and her mother, when we whipped through in a rental car on the way to Cradle Mountain, guided by a GPS with a New Zealand voice which urged us on with the promise of “a mean steak and cheese pie”.
Located about 10 minutes’ drive outside Bendigo in a large Colorbond shed, this remarkable attraction would appeal to kids, big kids, dad joke aficionados, engineering enthusiasts, and anyone who is interested in a psychedelic drug experience without all that pesky business of illegally buying and taking them.
Peter’s un-aged rye is a bit like a smoky moonshine. My friend Scott Fraser warned me that after he drank some he spent an hour wandering around in a daze, repeating over and over to his partner: “That tasted like a knife fight in Tijuana”
A short story about how I went looking for a little bit of magic in a quiet pocket of the Great Ocean Road and ended up like Grandpa Simpson, shaking my fist at the world and telling the rest of humanity to get off my goddamned lawn.
Whether it’s the drunken colonial going for the boob grab outside the Hope & Anchor, the other drunk peeing up against the wall in the alley, or the couple making out in the back of the hay truck, Old Hobart Town is a bit more lively than your average miniature village.
Thousands made the trek to Victoria’s Lost Trades Fair over the weekend to see some olde world crafts in their natural habitat.
Penny farthing makers, calligraphers, kayak builders and cordwainers breathed new life into traditional wares, and the crowds lapped it up. Check out all the action in this special report from Far Out Australia.
Classic monsters like mummies, giants and centaurs mix it up with monstrous versions of celebs and local townspeople in north-west Tasmania.
Check out one woman’s unique gift at Dr Frankenstein’s Museum of Monsters. I even got to take home a pierced pickled tongue as a souvenir.
Possibly the jewel at the heart of this collection is Shorty’s R-rated cupboards of carved driftwood – one for the ladies and one for the gents – which he will unlock for visitors of appropriate age upon request.
This tribute to the navy is a subversively odd homage to our bell-bottomed heroes of the seven seas.
All the most familiar naval figures are there – the guy with a handkerchief over his face, the nurse with the dislocated wrists holding a baby, the guy in the jumpsuit with the arms that hang uselessly by his sides, and the burly totem pole sailor with no neck. Oh wait, none of them have necks.
Brisbane parfait fans disenfranchised by the closure of Queensland’s Big Pineapple may want to make a beeline for Tropical Fruit World on their next journey south.
This year I finally got to experience Tropical Fruit World in its full majesty – and oh, what majesty!