As we headed upriver, the Derwent was on our right, a situation that delivered occasional spectacular views, enough to suggest the following morning's downstream run would deliver even better vistas. Looking at the hills that rose around us I recalled stories of escaped convicts and bushrangers. Having a rough idea of the terrain they were escaping to, things must have been pretty desperate. Richmond Gaol suggested that for some of them the hills, however inhospitable, were the only option as far as survival and a notion of freedom was concerned.
Not that there was any hint of the bad old days when we arrived at Hamlet Downs, an obviously functional hobby farm where the bed and breakfast business obviously provided a useful income stream.
Hamlet Downs sits on 36 acres with three accommodation units set in attractive gardens, with a kilometre-long walking track that runs through and around gardens, pasture, ponds and historic buildings that date back to the days when the property produced hops for the brewery trade.
Once we'd unpacked, Madam took a photographic ramble around the property, shorter than she'd have preferred because the light turned bad and with another chunk of travelogue tapped out after I'd checked the email and other online matters (free WiFi, which, given the location, borders on the miraculous) I did the same.
I didn't have minor issues like light to distract me, and my ramble took me down to the banks of the creek towards the dams and wetlands, past a couple of hop pickers' huts. One of them had been converted into a little creek side pavilion, complete with chairs that would have made a pleasant spot for a meditative beer or bottle of wine if time and the weather conditions had permitted.