When we woke Tuesday morning, the air was cool but the sun shining, and we had just a light breeze. Whatever horrible weather we had for the previous two days seem to have passed, leaving the skies clear. We continued along the Lyell Highway, cycling upwards to the Central Plateau. Our morning included finding the geographic center of Tasmania and consuming copious amounts of Coke and chips (i.e. ‘crisps’, not the local fries!) as a reward for enduring the previous two days. From our lunch spot in Bronte Park, we cycled towards Miena and the Great Lake. About 15 kms before our destination we reached over 1000 m in altitude and surprisingly the hills melted away on the plateau, leaving us with great views of the surroundings. We ended our day with a pizza and fried food feast, knowing that the worst of the biking was behind us. (To whoever in our families who think that we only eat junk food, stop worrying! We’ve been eating plenty of healthy stuff too. We however tend to consume the daily calories of several human beings each )

The next morning was another clear and calm day. After breakfast, we continued cycling along the Highlands road and along the Great Lake. We were fascinated that a country with so many hills could also give us such expansive and diverse views. However, as there were a limited number of roads, we left the plateau before midday and cycled down the bluffs towards Deloraine. In the town, we enjoyed the rest of the sunny day and set up camp in the city.

On Thursday, Cédric and I, not wanting to leave the area too soon, decided to cycle west through the Western Tiers. After much contemplating the previous day, we decided to not cycle to the heavily-touristed iconic NP of Cradle Mountain, but rather take our time with a few detours while going back towards Devonport. We took advantage of our lax schedule to visit the Trowunna Wildlife Refuge along the way. After seeing multiple animal carcasses on the side of the road, we figured that seeing more living wildlife would enhance to our Tasmanian experience.  At the refuge, we saw multiple marsupials (or the other weird animals of Australia that are cuter and not dangerous): Tasmanian Devils, wombats, kangaroos, quolls. After our time there, we continued cycling through Paradise and around Mount Roland to Growie Park.

For our final day in Tasmania, Cédric and I took a backroad to Sheffield, a mural town, where we hung out on the street eating baked goods and fielding questions about our bike from passersby (“That’s a strange setup, I’ve never seen a bike like that!”, or “- Hey, I remember your bike, we met a few days ago – Confused and trying to translate some weird Australian dialect, Uhh yeah probably…I can’t remember all license plates! who was that old guy?!?”). Our day continued down undulating roads towards Devonport and we finished at a campground near the ferry terminal, where we were departing for Melbourne the next morning.

Over our two days in Melbourne, Cédric and I have been gathering new parts for bike maintenance: a new rear chain (they need to be replaced after a few thousand of kilometers) and a welder who could fix  our handlebar once again (a combination of forceful wind gusts, steep uphills, poor welding, and the strength emanating from Cédric’s shrimpy lobster (Cedric’s correction) arms resulted in a failed weld). Since we were in such a large city, we sought out the help of a professional who knew exactly what they were doing – aluminum welding is a little tricky. The bike is now fully functional yet again and we will be cycling off to Sydney and then along the coast towards Brisbane.

Where we left off, in Swansea, Tasmania, we spent the following morning hugging the coast – still stopping every chance that we could to take pictures and soak up our remaining time on the beautiful East Coast. For lunch, Cédric and I stopped in Tribuanna where I introduced him to the combination of French fries and hummus. As a side note, we’ve been eating a pot (200 g) of hummus nearly every day on the road. The rest of our day was spent following the gorge of the Prosser River to Buckland, where we stayed on the grounds of the Buckland Inn.

Friday, Cédric and I continued along the A3 towards Hobart in rapidly changing weather and headwinds. We had a morning shower followed by spots of sun here and there. As soon as we weren’t protected by the hills, we were reminded of the weather with blast of wind. While cycling, we were amazed to be greeted with so much traffic towards the coast, mostly people from Hobart with their boats and caravans going somewhere for the holiday weekend. Our direction, thankfully, was less trafficked. On our way, we took a detour to see the historic town of Richmond, where colonial sandstone buildings and a prison from the 19^th century still stand. Or way into Hobart was less than ideal since we had to navigate inadequate bike paths downtown. What our GPS said is a bike path would turn out to be a narrow, winding hiking path along the shore and we barely fit through the pedestrian sidewalk of the Tasman Bridge. In the evening, we ended up at our host’s apartment – Fiona and Cameron – and were happy to share a meal together.

Saturday, Cédric and I used the day to explore Hobart and see the famous MONA (Museum of Old and New Art). We biked out, unencumbered by our normal luggage, to the museum and milled around its various artworks for a few hours. Intended to be a “subversive adult Disneyland,” the museum succeed at exhibiting thought-provoking artworks across various media; examples include multiple Wim Delvoye creations, such as Cloaca Professional (a series of connected flasks that turn food into excrement) and Tim (a living adult who showcases the artist’s tattoos on his back), along with Candice Breitz’s Queen (a montage of screens with fans singing to Madonna’s Immaculate Collection). I came out of the museum mystified by the creativity of the human mind as well as wondering what defines art. After biking back into the city, Cédric and I used the last few hours of daylight to explore Australia’s second oldest city.

The next morning, Cédric and I packed our things and set off to ride back to Devonport in the north of the island. What initially started as a mild autumn day became a struggle against heavy winds, hills, and looming rain. The moment we started cycling west up the Derwent River, we knew that the day wasn’t going to be easy. We rested a bit for lunch in New Norfolk before continuing onward over hills to Hamilton, another colonial town with multiple buildings from the 19^th century.

When we awoke on Monday, the wind and depressing weather had not changed – we could watch storms roll over the nearby mountains and the farmland provided no shelter from the gusts. The only time when we found refuge from the wind was when we were on forested mountain road, but even then, we had to deal with never-ending inclines. The wind was so strong on that day that it would make difficult to control the tandem, either because our speed would go so slow with headwind (and 4km/h on the tachometer has a bad impact on the moral!), or because of side gusts. Luckily the traffic is very sparse in Tasmania, and drivers really great: no problem waiting behind you if it’s dangerous, no animosity, lots of smiles and thumbs up, and it is possibly the first country where people do respect the 1,5 m distance passing law (and yes, if you did not know, it is also probably valid in your country!). We ended our day, exhausted, in Tarraleah. While we were setting up out tent, we were pleasantly surprised to see wallabies close by eating grass. Our animal encounters continued later in the evening when we heard Tasmanian Devils screeching in the bush, fighting over their evening meal.