Hawley time

‘Are you happy to go to Port Sorell for Christmas lunch’, pronounced the Wife.

‘I’m not really fussed to be honest’ was my responce, ‘ I don’t ever remember going there to be honest’.

‘You should like it, it’s a nice, pretty laid back beach coastal town’ chirped the wife.

All I really give a fuss about on Christmas is the food! We all have to put up with a few annoying relatives on christmas day, but as long as the food is good, I can generally tolerate anything. Plus, if things got hectic and required my inner scally wag to make an appearance, I knew my wife’s metal head brother would be there, and he was always down for shenanigans, no matter what day of the week it was.

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Port Sorel, and the surrounding coastal areas, are based on the central north coast of Tasmania, about a twenty minute drive east of Devonport, or an hours transit west from Launceston.

The area was first settled in 1808, and after a few football seasons, those that first started clearing the land decided that due to the landscapes fluent ability to pump out high quality wheat, that they would need to build a mill and start processing flour for the impending influx of convicts and settlers that would be arriving from their mother land.

Governor Macquarie (the same governor that renamed a fair amount of Tasmanian towns) named Port Sorell after Lieutenant Governor William Sorell.

My son’s mother and I had decided it was time to get away for a holiday with the little one, and Port Sorell had been on my list of places to return to since I had undertaken a few Christmas day feasts there a few years ago, so we were off to Hawley house, situated on Hawley beach, about five minutes past Port sorell.

Google maps tried to give us the run around when we arrived at Hawley house, but the place was well sign posted. Due to the establishment being situated on around 150 hectares of land, google does not recognize it as a single dwelling.

The property of Hawley house was first acquired in 1878, and was purchased and built by a retired Indian army officer and his family. The named bestowed upon the property was the families link back to their original homestead in England, which was obviously named Hawley house. After around 70 years of neglect, another retired Indian army officer, Colonal Houghton, purchased the property in 1948, and went about restoring it, and turning it into the grand residence we see today. Numerous ponds were dug into the landscape during the middle to late 1900’s, and most of the land was set aside as nature reserves, botanical gardens and bird esteries. It was during this period that the Houghton family would engrain their mark on local area.

Three lovely dogs greeted my son, his mother and I upon arrival, while the many different bird species that were abundant in the front part of the property left us in no doubt that property was a sanctuary for all types of wildlife, especially birds.

The main hotel premises were of the likes of any other colonial era homes one comes across, with the rooms being large with very high ceilings. There was a wine cellar, a drawing room, a library and a very vintage style restaurant with a surprisingly tasty and intricate looking menu to boot, based in the main reception building. Our room was set upon a restored barn, on the left side of the main reception building. The smell and character of our room was uniquely old school. As much as these guys had made the place modern as possible, it was distinctively old school in character and feel. It takes around one hundred years of wear and tear to create the kind of ambiance on show, which is something I am always happy to pay for, and appreciate.

The crew and I dropped of our luggage, and headed strait across the road to check out the local beach. After enjoying a short swim and getting some sand between our toes, we headed back to the barn and got dressed to head out and seek somewhere to enjoy a feed.

After navigating a short distance through the townships of Hawley, Port Sorell and Shearwater, we decided that the Waves bistro, in Port Sorell, would be our choice for nutritional replenishment. We decided the boy would have a hamburger, the lady ordered the gnocchi, while I was intent on sussing out the eggs benedict Parmigiana, as something different from my normal bistro indulgance. Our toddler ate the majority of his food, while my parmigiana was very good. I am a huge fan of classic dishes, and parmigiana or eggs benedict are definitely two of my safe place go to’s when I eat out. Although the slathers of hollandaise, cheese and deep fried crumbed chicken were an overly fatty component to my dish, I was fulfilled, and surprised I hadn’t thought to do the same thing myself at some point. And although the lady had to wait a little while for her gnocchi to arrive after our son and I had acquired and ingested our feeds, she was happy with the product none the less.

Unfortunately, our penguin viewing ambitions were sculdered, as by the time we left the bistro, and headed to the walking track that would take us to Sorell point, the moon was already making steady progress in transitioning light into darkness. After an attempted mission along the Hawley beach path towards the penguin colony, we headed back to our room for the night.

The following morning I was up around 5.30, and was straight out the door, looking to explore the big old property of Hawley Estate. Birds were out and about in abundance, chirping to their heart’s content, looking for a grub for breakfast, while I was intent on finding whatever fruits that were ripe in order to bring home and brew up. By around 8 am, I had acquired around a dozen grapefruits, and had raided a few hundred grams of black currants from the garden area. I had brought my fishing magnet, as I usually do when exploring my home state, yet thought it may be a bit rude to disturb the moss covered ponds on the property without permission.

The lady and my son were ready for breakfast at around 8.30, so we headed down to indulge in the continental breakfast. Cereals, toast, coffee and house brewed jams awaited us, while there was also an a la carte menu available for those that desired a more substantial and hearty breakfast.

After only a few disruptions from our son, we headed back to our room, packed up, loaded the car, and set out on so my two comrades could explore the area. Yet only about ten minutes into our adventure, our son decided to rocket into one of the shallow ponds, which rendered him covered in moss and algae, to our amusement, so we were back to our room for a shower and then off to the Don river railway, on the opposite side of Devenport.

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After just over 200 years of white settlement, the area of Port Sorell and Hawley beach is still very laid back and undeveloped, which worked well as a switch-off from our standard day to day grinds. The boy got to get sand between his toes on numerous occasions, the lady got to take some photos, while I got to go out and explore and feed my forager tendencies. Plus the eggs benedict parmigiana was a pretty good variation from the classic dish I am accustomed to, so I will look forward to putting a twist on the one I was presented with in due course.

The area of Port Sorell has a great range of bistro’s, restaurants, cafes, takeaway shops, winerys that most foodies would love to indulge upon. While the landscape is filled with a great balance of agriculture, wildlife sanctuaries, pristine beaches and many heritage listed properties to check out.

One night was truly a little to short for seeing and enjoying all that this area had to offer, but it was well worth it regardless.