Cataract Gorge Don’t Do

I am preempting this blog with a ‘do as I say, not as I do’.

1. Do go to Cataract Gorge.

2. Don’t take the route we took.

Having previously researched our visit to Cataract Gorge, I had read on numerous websites it was an ‘easy’ walk from the city centre. Deciding that easy was something that suited me to a T, we decided to leave our car at our hotel, fire up trusty (now seriously debatable) old Google Maps and leisurely walk our way to the Gorge.

I would just like to say to the people sharing information on the internet, it would be bloody helpful if you were extremely specific as to where the ‘easy’ walk was located. Good old Google (really am starting to not like her or him) sent us walking up a very steep street en route to our destination.

Now, if you don’t believe me, check out the photo evidence I have so kindly included so that you truly appreciate my lack of exaggeration today. Unlike the inaccurate research I had found, I am sharing every aspect of what can only be known as hell for this hobbit sized, unfit walker! Now if my near heart attack, puffing, panting, complaining (yes hubby has the patience of a saint), aching things and utter distress weren’t enough, as we got to the top of the street (aka mini mountain), we had the joy (can’t put into writing the actual word I want to use) of finding that there were indeed several repeats of so called steep easy street. And as you would guess it, my huffing, puffing and complaining continued. As I lingered behind hubby, I seriously considered killing Google’s stupid ‘continue straight and turn right’ directions and opening up my Uber app.

Perseverance paid off, a good 45 minutes of near death (more evidence Google lies as she said 20 minutes) and we eventually made it to the chairlift station. Trying to purchase our tickets in between my gasps for breath, the lady was kind enough to tell us that we had walked the most difficult way possible. Fancy that, who would have thought? She also shared that she quite often sees tourists struggling up the hill (bloody more like Mt Everest) and pulls over to give them a lift. All I would like to say is, why wasn’t she there to save me this morning? I would have more than happily risked life and death hitch hiking up the hill. Listening to this expert’s advice, we purchased the one way chairlift pass and took her highlighted map showing the ‘easy’ walk, on the other side of the river, that would bring us back to the city. She was even kind enough to share, through her giggles, that some of the way may even be downhill.

The chairlift across the river reminded me of the rickety old chairlift I had braved in Japan. Unlike the Japanese version, this one had a safety bar to pull across the front of you. I’m not sure how much safety it would really provide, but I was confident my very snug fitting bottom would keep me stuck nicely in place in the seat. I was more concerned with disembarking with my tired legs.

The views from the chairlift were great and I attempted to snap away in all directions. My photographic expertise was short lived, as my frozen fingers struggled to hold my phone and the thought of dropping it in the river below was enough to put it safely away. It was seriously icy cold and the coldest we’ve been in our fortnight in Tassie so far.

The lady selling the chair lift tickets had recommended trying a Devonshire Tea at the Gorge cafe when we arrived at the other side. Heading straight for the food, I was excited to be presented with steaming hot scones but ended up severely disappointed as they had cooled by the time I got them to the table. The icy weather had the same effect on the scones as it was having on my hands. Attempting to eat my now cool scones, it was a battle of will between myself and the peacocks on who would actually get the food. If you thought seagulls were scavengers, just wait for these pesty beasts.

Having consumed morning tea, Tanya 1, peacocks 0, we started the so called ‘easy’ walk back to the city. Low and behold, the walk was very easy and unlike the hideous experience of getting to the Gorge was just like my research had stated. The scenery was breathtaking with the river in full flow and my non-heart attack walking enabled me to enjoy it. Unlike the walk up, it really was relaxing to be able to walk, admire and breathe!

So here is my tip for anyone visiting Cataract Gorge. Take the ‘easy’ walk. Don’t rely on Google to show you the way, she flat out lies and attempts to kill you. Instead of being a mountain climber, walk on the nice flat streets, past Penny Royal Adventures, over Kings Bridge and right there on the left the entrance is staring you in the face. It even says ‘easy’! I have included the signs to show you just how easy it can be found. In full disclosure, the ‘easy’ walk does have some parts with the slightest of incline, but absolutely nothing like the thigh killing, breathing’s underrated, you won’t be squatting for the toilet without pain tomorrow, inclines of walking up York St.

Reflecting back on the experience, the fact that York St becomes Upper York St should have been a tale telling sign that it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Note to self: if any street includes the word upper, consider using a car.

And that brings me to dinner tonight. Funnily enough the thought of walking wasn’t on my top 10 activities for the evening. For the last three nights we have walked past this dodgy looking Indian restaurant right next to our hotel. Laughing at how rubbish it looked, we’ve ignored it. Tonight was the night that I was willing to try rubbish to avoid pain. A little TripAdvisor checking showed that looks could be deceiving and it was actually well rated. Excited at the prospect we phoned to reserve a table only to find they were booked out. Go figure, the crappy looking place is actually really popular. Next best thing was takeaway and even better, hubby walking to get it. Downside, eating it with the only cutlery we had in our room, teaspoons.

And just like that our Launceston adventure is over. Tomorrow it’s back on the road heading for Burnie via Deloraine, Sheffield and Penguin. Fingers crossed my little legs don’t go on strike tomorrow.