We were making our way across from Oatlands, heading towards Hamilton, when we decided to pull into Bothwell, Tasmania for a look around. The first thing we noticed was how much the town leans into its Scottish roots. Even the street signs are backed with different tartans, which gave us a bit of a chuckle. Lisa spent a fair amount of time trying to see if she recognised any of the patterns, while Steve was more interested in finding a quiet spot for a wander.
The town itself is full of those solid, honest stone buildings that look like they’ve been standing since the dawn of time. One particular cottage caught our eye with its bright red tin roof and a sprawling green bush partially hiding the front verandah. It looked so sturdy, like it could withstand another two hundred years of Tasmanian winters without breaking a sweat.
As we walked further, we came across the Uniting Church. The stone tower there is quite something, especially with the old clock face looking out from the masonry. We stood there for a minute, just listening to the quiet. There’s a real sense of stillness in these highland towns that you just don’t get back home in the busier parts of WA.
While we didn’t feel the urge to linger in Bothwell for too long—it didn’t quite capture our hearts like some of the seaside villages—there was one thing that absolutely stopped us in our tracks: the autumn colours. The kids would have had a field day here, running through the drifts of fallen leaves. The trees were putting on a spectacular show, with vibrant reds and deep oranges clashing beautifully against the green hedges. We took our time walking under the canopy, enjoying the crispness in the air and the crunch under our boots.
Back on the road, we headed for Hamilton. The drive between the two towns is a bit of a twisty one. The road is in great condition, which is a blessing when you're towing, but it certainly keeps you on your toes with its constant winding through the hills. We had a magnificent view through the windscreen of the rolling yellow hills and the blue mountain ranges sitting under a heavy, moody sky. It felt like we were driving right into a landscape painting.
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By the time we pulled into our spot for the night, we were ready to put the kettle on. We found a lovely, open grassy area to set ourselves up, with the hills stretching out behind us. Steve got everything level and steady while Lisa started thinking about dinner. There’s something incredibly peaceful about looking out the window and seeing nothing but green paddocks and the wide Tasmanian sky. It was the perfect way to end a day of exploring the highlands.
