Port Arthur, on the Tasman Peninsular, is a place full of history, situated in a tranquil spot overlooking a beautiful bay. Not that it would have been tranquil when the colony was at its height in the mid nineteenth century. The Port was a secondary prison, a place where those found guilty of some offence after Transportation, were sent to further isolate them from society, and over 12,000 passed through between 1830 and 1852. Modern visitors, on entry, are each given a playing card representing a real person who ended up here. I was the seven of Diamonds which equated to Joseph Carpenter, a 15 year old Gardner's Apprentice from Somerset, who was transported in 1836 for stealing a few coins. Unfortunately I fell into bad company and ended up in Port Arthur after trying robbery in Hobart. I haven't found any ancestors who were transported yet, but knowing our family history there may be on of two lurking. To get to the settlement you have to cross a 100m strip of land, with sea each side and which once featured the Dog line. It was where 16 savage dogs were kept chained up, guarding the only exit by land. There is just a bronze one now as a reminder. Port Arthur was the site of another tragedy just 15 years ago. It holds the unfortunate record of being the place where the World's worst killing frenzy took place, when, in 1996, 33 people were shot dead by a madman armed with automatic guns. There is a memorial garden now, where several staff lost their lives.

Now in Hobart airport waiting for my flight back to through mainland, i love airports where you have to cross the tarmac to get your plane. You really feel as if you are going somewhere.