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.
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.