I left you wondering, perhaps even worrying, about the next part of the journey from Strahan. It’s true, we thought we had left the worst roads behind us, but we now know there’s always something new to test your nerve. Queenstown, about 80kms inland from Strahan, is a copper mine town with a bewildering and empty landscape at odds with the wilderness that surrounds it. In the 1800’s they stripped all the trees, bushes and soils, as the sulphur produced by copper smelting kills the land. What’s left is what greed looks like.

The road in from Strahan is much as we expect, but the road out shows us why most people take the 100s of kms detour back north to go south to Hobart. Yes, people look at us strangely when we say we’re taking the Queenstown road, and we soon understand their puzzlement. The road is unlike any mountain road we’ve ever driven – anywhere. Certainly not dragging a 3.5 tonne caravan. Sheer rock one side, sheer drop the other. Pick your adjectives from steep; hairpin; precipitous; narrow; vertiginous; sheer; slow; suicidal. There are times we are going so slowly it would be quicker to get out and walk.

But we make it, nerves mostly intact if a little frayed, down the other side and find a lovely cafe in the literal middle of nowhere. Nothing else. Just a great cafe next to the ruins of the Royal Hotel Linda. They do a great Reuben sandwich, but I don’t recommend the trip to get there.

The Central Highlands surprise us – in a good way. The area is a labyrinth of alpine lakes and tarns, dolerite peaks, and alpine forests and vegetation. They call it the Land of Three Thousand Lakes though I’m sceptical anyone actually counts them. The largest is the Great Lake at 176 square kms. There are also lots of walking tracks, short and long, up and down and over ridges and peaks.

Yet the most remarkable attraction is man made, the Wall in the Wilderness at Derwent Bridge. (No photos allowed so use the link). The Wall is a 100 metre long wooden sculpture by artist Greg Duncan, and relates the region’s history. It is still a work in progress and it’s interesting to see his process sculpting laminated Huon pine. Some panels include the work of the hydro workers who built the dams and laid the pipes for hydro electric schemes across the highlands.

We are in Hobart to coincide with the arrival of the Sydney to Hobart yacht race. No, we don’t wait up until 1.00am to see the Maxi yachts arrive. Later that morning is interesting enough; wind absent for the previous 48 hours kicks up and catches those arriving around lunchtime. Tricky reversing manoeuvres ensue, give us plenty to watch. We empathise on one level, as I have a habit of guiding Scott into tricky caravan turning or parking situations – don’t ask.

We “do” all the things you do as a tourist in Hobart – Salamanca Markets; MONA (Museum of Old and New Art); Botanic Gardens; and historic places, such as Kelly’s Steps, pictured above. In 1839 convict labour cut these steps into the stone of the cliff dividing Battery Point and the harbour. That same stone quarried from the cliffs built the warehouses that line the wharf. These are the restaurants, shops and bars on what is now Salamanca Place. We leave Hobart feeling we could spend longer. It’s a charming city, just 244,000 people, but sitting as it does on the water with the river and the harbour, hills all around, lovely 18th Century architecture, it’s somewhere that would reward more time.

And I’d like to go back to MONA as you can never see it all at once. We take the boat up and enjoy some river views and Mimosas from the Posh Pit of the ferry. On arrival we climb up 99 steps to the expansive grounds. When we enter we descend several floors back to water level and work our way back up. No outside light and no clocks – just like a casino. And like a casino it’s a gamble you’ll get what you want. Everything you have heard about MONA is true – if you have heard about it at all. Art that isn’t a landscape of a portrait isn’t for everyone, but if you like a bit of provocation with your art it delivers on every level. It’s not every day you see a sculpture simulating the digestive system from mastication through to defecation.

The Cloaca Professional (is there an amateur category for pooing?) or Poo Machine as it is more affectionately known, is fed twice a day and evacuates its “bowels” at 2.00pm. We didn’t wait for the poop to drop. Apparently it stinks.