Day 5

These daily recount style write ups are starting to feel redundant. They insist upon themselves. If I was in bookclub I would be rating them a 1/5 for being simple,over indulgent recaps. The author uses way to many, commas. Not a 0, even I have more self worth than to compare myself to the ‘Thursday Murder Club’s’. That shit was ass. So what I did today will remain a mystery, to you and the authorities.

Day 6

Rainy, cold and miserable is the way you find me on day 6. I have to say the grey suits Launceston well. Today is my last real day here, tomorrow I am off to Hobart to play the brand new and much hyped Seven Mile Beach golf club, after which I have an early morning flight to Auckland. So I thought I would give my final verdict of Launceston.

All week I have been struggling to get a grip on how I feel here. Walking through the cold rain to get a coffee (from a place called Tatler lane, first good coffee of the trip 1/6) I had a realisation. To me, Launceston feels exactly like Derry from 11.22.63. I feel like George Amberson trying my best to fit in but being inevitably out of place. The city has an eerie feeling. The locals are split between what I assume are Melbourne hipster transplants, some of the outfits I’ve seen down here would blow you away, the man who made my coffee this morning wore a groundskeeper Willie hat. The remaining locals are the born and bred, who unfortunately align pretty closely with what you assume the stereotypical Tasmanian looks like. Locked in a battle of gentrification, both sides look at you a bit sideways, pegging you as one of the enemy. This is reflected all over the physicality and architecture. Some buildings have that nauseating modern look, all glass and metal with sharp edges that will take your eyes out. Next to these are rundown and abandoned historically protected eyesores. Red brick and broken windows are the main feature here, being protected for the sake of protection. In that way time and progress in Launceston is obdurate. The city seems to be at war with itself, neither side right or wrong but neither side willing to give an inch leaving a mismatched mess.

Aside from poetic musings on the city there are some obvious quality of life issues. Nothing is open early would be my biggest complaint. There is no free parking in the entire city and still not enough paid parking either. It cost me $20 to park to go see a movie. A beautiful park with flower gardens, statues and Japanese macaques (yes really, it’s incredibly random) is ruined a bit by the $7 you have to pay to park your car on the street. The people behave strangely as well. Maybe I have been corrupted by the Queensland way without realising it because everyone here is so anxious and uptight. I was the lone customer getting a coffee this morning, but barista Willie was acting under siege, flying around behind the imported La Marzocco machine, clanging and banging far more than is necessary for one cappuccino. As I’ve touched on before , the drivers are insane, but they are also unaware and stubborn. I’ve had to brake hard multiple times from people blindly crossing lanes or backing out of car spaces. On the flip side good luck trying to change lanes yourself, I’m convinced Tasmanians are born without the ability to see yellow as they ignore any indicators.

Just the beauty of the Tasmanian country is the ace up the sleeve for anywhere you go. The Dunes and Lost Farms, while being beautifully designed golf courses, would not pop the same without the rugged coastline they are placed upon. The roads would be unremarkable without the pine forests or vineyards that make them special. But Launceston seems to be working to cover it up. Driving back into the city you are met with what is usually a beautiful and rugged mountain forest, marred by human necessity. The slopes are pockmarked with squat houses covering the skyline. The river narrows as it seems to reluctantly peter through. The spell of the country is broken as you cross the bridge into the cbd.

All of this might lead you to believe I’ve had a bad time or not enjoyed myself. That is not true. There is an interesting affect that Launceston has. The second you are outside the city limits, even by 50m, everything changes. The world opens up. The roads flow freer the greens grow deeper. Literally a 90 second drive from where I’m staying is the beautiful Cataract Gorge. You leave the unsettling suburbia feeling the second you pull into the (paid) car park and are instantly in nature. A gigantic and impressive gorge greets you. Big mountains with Tasmanian trees surround you. Multiple hiking trails branch up, down and all around the area. The worlds largest single cable seat lift rises high up the gorge to a well hidden restaurant (I was far too scared to ride this, I already regret not doing it but heights are no bueno). Here the people are different, even in the most morose of weather conditions they greet you with a smile and laughter can be heard up and down the hiking trails. There is so much care taken, in stark contrast to the slapdash and rundown city mere meters away. Signs up and down the trail highlight the native flora and fauna with facts on each. The aboriginal history of the place is prominently displayed and really interesting. This phenomenon is true in every direction. As you turn out of the city onto the Tamar Highway your field of view grows. It’s like going from standard definition to an imax lens.

I think that is the service that Launceston provides. It is a sink, a reserve or black hole that pulls any negativity directly into itself rather valiantly. It is a city of necessity. People need somewhere to live and work and I have respect for that. Without Launceston we would be left with 5 towns scattered around, each one interrupting what makes this place great. Like Derry, it feels like it gives home to an evil, but in doing so it also works to trap it and not let it leak out and poison further.

As you go further up the state and especially as you go further towards the coast, you can see a more cohesive blend of the different factions that call this place home. The mansions and new structures are more sophisticated in their designs, incorporating the elements that make this place stand out. They have what I assume is local wood paneling. Feature walls of red brick or gardens of native plants that work to seamlessly integrate these architectural interlopers into the environment. Gentrification is a tricky topic and one that the area is clearly grappling with, but outside of Launceston it’s handled with more grace. The old historic buildings look cared for and honoured. The people you meet seem excited to see you, they ask where you’re from and they have pride in showing off their home.

If history is anything to go by, then Launceston will face the same fate as most trendy cities. Either the gentrifying Melbourne socialites will win out and strip all authenticity away. Or the locals will be so stubborn and resistant that growth will stagnate and even more buildings will end up abandoned and rundown. I hope that isn’t the case and people can learn from the smaller surrounding communities that make it work. I can’t honestly say I enjoy the city but I have come to respect what it does for the area. It is a beacon and a protector, I fear the day that evil (private equity) kept trapped spills out of the city and sets its dollar sign sights on the surrounding area.

To end this post most ironically, I am on to Hobart and the newest private equity funded course, Seven Mile Beach. I apologise in advance for another big golf write up tomorrow.

Also P.S - God 11.22.63 is so fucking good, that shit just slaps so hard I have to make mention of it