Dover. I'm in Dover. Dover's a small inlet town at the end of the Esperance River in Tasmania, the southernmost tenth of the southernmost island of Australia. Red-eye no sleep flight foro Perth and then to Hobart International Airport before picking up the hire car and going south.
This is great, everywhere has a view of the hills and the water as especially does Uncle Phil's place with an island at the end of the block. Haven't seen Uncle Phil in over a decade and he's mad and busy as ever, late fiftysomething, working as a welder in the middle of a bay, riding a trials bike, and the yacht he's building himself. Didn't pick up immaculate workshed genes but did get mid-sentence laughter. In time for the end of the half day shearing season here. One of them's a butcher's knife away from dispatch to the great beyond and I think we'll be having some lamb before heading back. Not that there's any need. This is seafood country, they don't even bother with mussels.
End of the shearing is a visit to the pub. Boags/Cascade. Pick Boags and get laughed at. Cascade it is then. Chat with local who promises to bring crays around later and does and they're the size of a loaf of bread. Wood fired pizza for dinner and it is excellent. Crusty on the bottom with large juicy prawns. I'm here 6 hours and I love this place. The sun sets and fills in parts of the undulating hills at random. Uncle Phil says you'll never see this again, he's right.
