Tasmania’s Derwent Valley delivers nature, history and foodie fare
An unexpected visitor is all part of the appeal of Tasmania’s Derwent Valley.
It’s one of the most important rules of camping: always zip up your tent securely when bedding down for the night. You don’t want any undesirable critters sneaking or slithering into your quarters as you sleep. So perhaps I have only myself to blame for the realisation at 5am that no, it’s not possums frolicking in the branches outside that have woken me up. Nor is it a wombat snuffling in the undergrowth around the tent perimeter. There is undeniably something inside my glamping digs at Truffle Lodge in Tasmania’s Derwent Valley. Did I fully zip up the entrance? No, I did not.
My torch beam alights on a furry black bottom and tail vanishing behind the couch. Further investigation reveals a juvenile Tasmanian devil has decided to check in to my canvas-clad castle too. And why not? There’s plenty of room for two, with a generous lounge area scattered with plush cushions and rugs, a kingsize bed warmed by an electric blanket, and an ensuite with deep timber bath ingeniously housed in an attached water tank. But this is not a devil’s natural habitat and an eviction is called for.
As the kookaburras cackle at my PJs stylishly matched with hiking boots (to protect my toes from those gnashers), I hook the canvas door open to create a wide exit. With some gentle encouragement, plus a few insulting remarks about his potent body odour, the little devil scurries out to the deck and into the dark.
Congratulations Derwent Valley — you’ve just delivered the quintessential Tassie experience and the sun isn’t even up yet.
The intruder is the talking point over breakfast in Truffle Lodge’s communal dining room a couple of hours later. Here, looking out over the Derwent River, guests feast on fresh croissants and crusty loaves, boiled eggs, pots of yoghurt with berry compote, fruit and cereals. There are espressos on tap and a wood burner keeps the morning chill at bay.
Entering its third year and named for the hazelnut trees planted by Perigord Truffles many years ago, Truffle Lodge is the brainchild of John and Laurelle Grimley, who moved to Tasmania from Western Australia’s Swan Valley in 2003. It comprises eight elegant double tents spaced atop the eucalypt-lined river bank on almost 5ha. Guests can gather at The Canopy, an open-air pavilion housing a ping-pong and foosball table, or in the comfy lounge, where books, board games, a turntable and pile of vinyl keep them entertained, warmed by the glowing Scandia fireplace during my visit earlier this month.
It’s an excellent base from which to explore the verdant Derwent region, which John describes as an “invisible valley” flying under the tourist radar. As I drive the quiet country roads, spring lambs gambol about on spindly legs and free-range chickens roam the paddocks. Farms here produce everything from cherries and raspberries to gourmet potatoes and hops. There’s Tasmania’s renowned pinot noirs by the likes of Derwent Estate and Stefano Lubiana Wines, and innovative beer and cider from Two Metre Tall Brewery, among others. But I have stronger stuff in mind.
In the Scottish offshoot of Bothwell, Nant whisky distillery sits among manicured lawns in a gorgeous sandstone mill built in the 1850s. It’s the oldest commercially operating water-powered mill in Australia. Chief distiller Jack Sellers, a young Brit who learned his trade in Scotland, shows me the vintage mechanism still used to grind the barley, powered by water flowing from the Clyde River.
About 40km away, the long driveway of Lawrenny Estate curls past the Mace family’s historic two-storey mansion, with its intricate iron-lace balconies, to a warehouse where rows of barrels wait for time to work its magic on their contents. The whisky operation is only two years old, but the distillers have not been idle while their precious spirit ages, producing a range of gins, one of which scored double gold this year at the San Francisco World Spirits Competition.
I drive to New Norfolk, once touted as the capital of the colony thanks to its position on the Derwent River, which was deep enough to allow access to tall ships. Even after Hobart superseded it, the town thrived due to the presence of a paper mill and the oldest mental health facility in the country. Mechanisation and the closure of the hospital in 2000 saw the place hit by hard times, but things are most definitely on the up. Chef Rodney Dunn’s Agrarian Kitchen restaurant and cooking school is drawing foodies from all over the country, and the old hospital buildings are being repurposed for artist studios, a rum distillery, and more.
Sisters Tammy and Donna Baird have spent 16 years building their antiques business, and their Drill Hall Emporium is filled with treasures. I fancy a set of gleaming copper saucepans or an enormous dining table from a boarding school in Cambridgeshire, England, but settle instead on a retro ice cream scoop that will fit much more easily in my luggage. The duo’s more recent venture is Flywheel, a Zen stationery shop around the corner, where Robert Oster inks and calligraphy tools sit beside handbound notebooks and Inky Co wrapping paper.
I leave town for a dose of nature further up the valley at Mount Field National Park, where sunlight dapples the gurgling Tyenna River and magnificent swamp gums wear coats of vibrant green moss. Russell and Horizontal Falls are roaring with snow melt and I go in search of the water’s source. The gravel road up to Lake Dobson passes a massive boulder field that looms so suddenly on my right I brake in the middle of the road and have to pull over to investigate. The giant dolerite orbs appear to be tumbling down the mountain, which in fact they are, slowly, helped by a creek that flows beneath them.
At Lake Dobson, altitude 1040m, it’s a nippy 5C and there’s still snow visible on the surrounding peaks. A circuit around the lake passes huts that beckon with the promise of wild isolation and woodfired sanctuary. The path leads to a mysterious pandani grove; they seem such incongruous trees for this alpine environment, as though transplanted from a Dr Seuss book.
As a squall blows over the mountains, it’s time to flee the weather. I drive down to the quaint village of Westerway, where the riverside Possum Shed cafe reportedly serves some of the best scones in the Apple Isle. Their reputation is well deserved. The scones are warm and light and accompanied by a lavish dollop of freshly whipped cream and local raspberry jam of the most vivid crimson I’ve seen. Once again, the Derwent Valley has delivered in spades.
Penny Hunter was a guest of Truffle Lodge, The Woodbridge and Tourism Tasmania.
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MORE TO THE STORY
It was love at first sight when Laurelle and John Grimley laid eyes on historic home The Woodbridge on the banks of the Derwent in New Norfolk in 2003. Not that it was a pretty sight. The 1825 building, once the rather grand convict-built abode of the local police captain, was in a sorry state, divided into seven rundown apartments. The couple embarked on an arduous renovation, replacing all the plumbing and electrics, knocking down walls and discovering original doorways and fireplaces. The result of their labours is a five-star hotel that pays tribute to the building’s past with old maps, etchings and convict-forged nails hanging in frames on the walls. The eight guestrooms are named after figures central to the mansion’s past. In one of the hotel’s elegant lounges, where a pianola stands in one corner and sherry and port decanters tempt guests to pour a tipple, a photo album traces The Woodbridge’s journey from ugly duckling to stately lodge. It’s quite a transformation.
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IN THE KNOW
Truffle Lodge is just outside the hamlet of Gretna, off the Lyell Highway; glamping tents from $455 a night, including breakfast and dinner. The Woodbridge is in New Norfolk, about 40 minutes’ drive from Hobart; rooms from $295 a night, including breakfast. Mount Field National Park is about 55 minutes’ drive from New Norfolk.