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Our Sweet Little Valentines Day at Low Head

Last weekend we drove to Northern Tasmania for a lovely Valentines Day. It was beautiful at Low Head, regardless of the smoke emanating from Tasmania’s unprecedented fire season. And it was nice to share where I grew up as a boy with the woman who shares my life and closest thoughts. My lover. Confidante. Soul mate.

We stayed at the Low Head Pilot Station for two nights in Boatcrew West (at $180 per night). Wooden floors, a reasonable sized bedroom, a lounge room with a comfortable couch and television, a kitchen with cooking facilities and a surprisingly luxurious bathroom. The Low Head Pilot Station was quiet, we could cook and come and go as we felt like it; and there were a lot of those ungodly carnal noises our neighbours complained about when we inhabited a rental flat in New Town.

When I was a teenager this pilot station still housed the crew for the pilot boat. In storms they’d rush out on their little orange boat and save yachtsmen from the dangerous reefs at the mouth of the Tamar River and in the calmer days they would guide in the large tankers that avoid reefs and rocks by the length of a long stick. It’s a dangerous river.

I could see myself diving from the pilot station jetty when there used to be a springboard. I’ve run across every inch of Low Head in thongs and bare feet. Crashed my push bike. Found and lost loves. Drank my first beer. And so much more. It’s a beautiful spot with a 9 hole golf course, tennis courts and lovely beaches. So it was nice to share that with my lover.

Our Valentine’s wine this year was a lovely Sam Plunkett Tait Hamilton Vineyard Shiraz 2014 purchased through Naked Wines. If only we could fill our wine rack with those succulent babies.

The only thing I’d add about George Town is that the locals aren’t even slightly friendly and they have the absolute worst Chinese take-away that I’ve ever experienced. It was like a flash back to the 1970s industrial blegh that I remembered.

We finished our little holiday with a night in St Helens (on the East Coast) at a bed and breakfast called The French House (at $140 per night). But that’s another story involving numerous large huntsman spiders and a little thing called “expectation management.” Plus the other guests were self-inflated tossers.

However, if you’re in St Helens sometime then the fish and chips were great and the pizza was totally awesome. We’d go there again, if only for the food.

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About the Author

Steven Clark Steven Clark - the stand up guy on this site

My name is Steven Clark and I live in the Derwent Valley in Southern Tasmania. I have an MBA (Specialisation) and a Bachelor of Computing from the University of Tasmania. I'm a mazer & a yeast farmer (making beer, fruit wine and mead as by-products of continuous improvement in my farming practices). I'm a photographer, although my film cameras are currently silent. I do not tolerate idiots. I do not tolerate bigotry. I do not tolerate excuses. Let's be clear, if you sit with my enemies you my are my enemy for life.

Blogger. Thinker. Brewer. Drinker. Life partner to the amazing and incredible Megan.

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