Stanley's Nut

It's 10:30am and I'm off to visit the local whiskey distillery. Hellyers Road distillery isn't actually in Hellyer, nor is it on Hellyers Road. It is, however, set in the middle of rolling grass hills. The restaurant boasts a pretty view and as I sip on my peated nip, the morning is quite picturesque.

I've explained to the woman serving me that I'm driving, when I request a half-nip. Even after I offer to pay for a full one she still refuses, putting her reason down to specific measurements. Clearly RSA isn't an issue here, so I drink half and lament the wasted remainder. There's a group of tourists crowded around the counter taking it all very seriously. I can see mouths swishing and narrowed eyes as they note the differences in taste and try to negotiate better deals for their bulk purchases. I turn back to the window and admire the view.

Karina works just around the corner at a school with a clear view of the ocean and coast. She has an early finish today and drives us out to Stanley to

see the ancient volcanic plug. The coastline is gorgeous, the sea an aqua blue, and she pulls over at Doctor's Rocks in Wynyard so I can be the ultimate tourist and take photos. The rocks are covered with red algae which look like splotches of paint across the surface. Behind us in the scrub are white mounds built for nesting penguins, the telltale white feathers the only sign that they've been there. There are also a tonne of blackberry bushes and we stop to eat them, fresh as they come. Snap, snap. The advantage of Google technology is that it remembers where a photo was taken, unlike me, who blogs about it in the hopes of keeping a memory alive.

The Nut, as the volcanic remain is affectionately known, stands out as a round, flat protuberance from the mainland. We take the chairlift, which swings in the wind and I remind myself to breathe and relax those knuckles clinging to the single metal bar that keeps us in our seats. Never was great with heights.

The view up the top is, as expected, quite lovely. We stand bracing against the wind, admiring the landscape, walk along the top (which isn't as flat when you're standing on it!), peek through branched archways and admire the pademelons hiding in the brush. The way down is steep, we're walking on an angle just to hold ourselves upright. I feel like something out of a pantomime from the way we're moving.

In the town of Stanley there's a shop called the Angel's Share. Being somewhat of a whisky fan, I can't resist peeking inside. Three (shared) gins later we've befriended the bartender, who is an ex-student of Karina's school. The world is small, but Tasmania is much smaller. I comment on the name, he asks me if I've seen the movie. Shout out to John, of Edinburgh, for my education there!

On the drive home we joke about having visited Stanley's Nut. And climbed all over it. We're so amused and distracted with conversation that we forget my car is still in Burnie and have to backtrack to rescue it. Stuffed potato dinner and another touristy day done and dusted.