The view from Mt Wellington is spectacular, but it is very cold up there. Lucky the camera is plastic or it would become fused to the skin!

Hobart is the last chance for a pee and a beer (not necessarily in that order) before you hit the the South Pole. No wonder it is so cold. Our three Antarctic research bases, Casey, Davis and Mawson, are supplied from here.

We spent an interesting hour or two at the Antarctic Adventure Museum, learning more than we really need to know about all that Polish Stuff. Caroline and Dickie went into the Cold Room to experience an ice blizzard at minus 5º. They didn't linger long. I looked on through the thick glass viewing window. (Much like the interrogation room on a tv cop show.)

Caroline and I then went to the planetarium where we learnt, among other things, how to find South by checking out the stars. A useful skill should we be lost in the desert on a clear night, or wish to impress our mates at the backyard barbie. 

Dickie, meanwhile, subjected himself to The Blizzard: downhill racing on skis at 110kph, complete with jumps, bumps and dizzying turns. The marvels of modern virtual technology. Not for those prone to mal de mer.

We crawled into Antarctic field tents, we counted seals from a helicopter, we failed at the trivia quiz and we saw more penguins than you can shake a mackerel at. Finally, stuffed with new knowledge to the very rims of our cortexes,  we exited through the gift shop, (or Fleecery), as you do. Here we were picked up a few knick-knacks and were duly fleeced of our hard-earned.

Following all this excitement, we had a coffee and a stroll round the quaint Salamanca shopping precinct before setting out for Strahan.