The Clown and Poker: Everyone's photos look professional in Tasmania!

When we last left off, reader, we were in a hotel on the River Derwent in Hobart, Tasmania. If you missed that post, you might want to start with our first day in Tasmania, here, or our second, here.

At this point in our journey, reader, we had an important decision to make. Either we would spend a large part of the day at historic Port Arthur, an old penal colony and prison on the southernmost peninsula on the southernmost state in the southern country of Australia, or we would drive north and east to the ocean country near that night's bed and breakfast.

We saw a lot of convict history sites in Sydney. We opted for ocean.

But before we left, we spent a very short time in inner city Hobart, walking past the Salamanca Market (actual market is only open on Saturdays, and it was a Monday)...

... playing in the park at the edge of Battery Point ...

... and taking our picture next to this cold looking guy, Roald Amundsen, who led the first known human party to reach the south pole, in 1911. Roald Amundsen was Norwegian, not Tasmanian. But there at the tip of Hobart is an important Antarctic study center.

We decided not to bother with the GPS Karen, but just to hop on the A3 and follow it out of town and all the way to the town of Swansea, where our bed and breakfast was located. However, although Hobart, with just over 200,000 people, is not extremely large, the signs marking the way out of town are placed a little too late on the road to be very helpful. So when we knew we had missed our turnoff, we followed signs to a lookout instead, and took stunning pictures of Hobart from the other side of the river.

Hobart, under Mount Wellington.

"Have you taken the photo yet?"

We decided we'd better enlist Karen's help to get out of town. But Karen, like the signs, gave an important direction just a little bit too late, and we found ourselves retracing exactly the same roads that led to the lookout. Again.

We didn't actually stop twice at the lookout.

Finally, the second time through, we escaped. And from there, the driving was uneventful, with spectacular scenery. Until we reached our destination on the east coast of Tasmania.

First stop (after lunch at a bakery): Freycinet National Park, and a hike between the Hazard Mountains. The first overlook on the hike was towards Coles Bay to the west.

The final destination, however, overlooked Wineglass Bay to the east, toward the ocean (technically, the Tasman Sea, between Australia and New Zealand).

Jonathan was not very keen on hiking. But luckily, this was a short enough walk that everyone survived.

Survivors eating Tasmanian apples at the top.

Aside from the bay and the ocean off in the distance, the scenery looked remarkably like Wyoming. Or home.

This bench was not actually comfortable.

So in order to find something completely different, our next turn off in the national park was toward the Friendly Beaches, so named because the natives met the white people with relatively little conflicts upon first landing.

The Friendly Beaches were gorgeous, and completely empty, aside from ... us.

Don't these photos look amazing? Tasmania sprinkles magic dust upon even point-and-click cameras.

I, Artax, took this picture.

The sun sets early now that we're off daylight savings time. We made our way to our bed and breakfast in Swansea ...

... and ate dinner at a local fish and chips shop. Jonathan, who does not eat fish, ate chips. Tim, who does not eat fish, tried the meatloaf sandwich. I tried the fried flake, as well as three oysters, fresh from Oyster Bay, presumably, which is Right. There. In Swansea. My friends, it did not cost 30 dollars per plate. At less than 20 dollars per plate, it was a bargain. And someone running the shop had a strange sense of humor that I could understand.

Breakfast in the morning.

Then a quick hike around the headland in Swansea, because how could you not take the walk with that name when you are right there?

Loontitetermairrelehoiner. Say that ten times fast.

At Loontitetermairrelehoiner Point.

It was the last day of our vacation. We had to get back to the ferry by 6pm, and we had three hours of driving for that, at least. But it continued to be spectacular driving!

To prove to you that I took the above photo, I present the next, with Tim and Jonathan. Not photoshopped in.

We decided to see beaches on the way back. On the recommendation of Gail, our hostess at the bed and breakfast, we stopped at three different beaches.

First, Bicheno. Say BEESH - uh - no. At Bicheno, there were huge granite rocks ...