From the air, Hobart and its southern surrounds seem to comprise a number of fingers of land interspersed by the ocean, estuaries, rivers and wetlands. We spot what could be Bruny Island (which we’ll visit later on), pass over some oyster farms and decide that we’ve identified the Derwent River.
From up above it’s all looking kind of rural. And as we land, the sight of departure stairs being wheeled up to the plane, confirms that we haven’t arrived at one of the world’s busier airports. Still, that’s what we’re looking for: an escape from city living and a change of pace and routines.
But then, as we enter the terminal building I notice from the quarantine sign that we’re not supposed to bring fresh fruit, flowers or vegetables into Tasmania. Oops. In the pink cooler bag we’d checked in at Melbourne airport with our other luggage there are some left over salads and other gourmet fare that Jane Selman and her team at Healseville Harvest prepared for our picnic lunch yesterday, and which we were looking forward to enjoying somewhere scenic later today.
As we watch the carousel spring onto action, the usual bagonising* is heightened by the appearance of a Custom’s officer with beagle in tow. Suddenly I don’t want my cooler bag to appear and for the first time ever I would be happy to hear the words, "we're sorry but it's been lost in transit". But too late. The beagle is let off his leash and leaps onto the carousel where he eagerly rushes from one bag to the next in a sniffing frenzy.Almost simultaneously our cooler bag enters stage left, and although there are two to three dozen items between the bag and the beagle, he is already leaping with great delight toward it, flanked by his handler who is charging through the assembled throng of travellers as though there's a chance the cooler bag will make a dash to safety.Red-faced I hurry toward the scene of the intercept, the bag now unzipped and the beagle’s snout buried deep inside. “Hi there…that’s mine…I think you’re interested in my picnic.” The officer smiles and apologises for the fuss, explaining that Tasmania, as an island state that depends heavily of agriculture, has some of the world’s most stringent quarantine regulations to guard against the introduction of pests and diseases.
Well I guess it’s just the rules, and although I’m disappointed at the loss, we are allowed to keep processed items such as the olives, marinated figs and the Fromager des Clarines – a very creamy French cow's milk cheese that has fresh white-truffle butter flavours.
So all’s not lost. And with the rest of the baggage now accounted for, we’re ready to head into Hobart, pick up the hire car and commence the Tassie journey.
*Bagonising – The state of anxiety that’s brought about when waiting for ones luggage to appear on the baggage carousel
