Eaglehawk Neck
Sunday, February 28, 2010 by Matt Mercier
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lehawk Neck is the name of the 150 meter wide bridge that connects the Tasman peninsula to the rest of the island of Tasmania. While spending a few days in the area recently I realized that the Tasman peninsula contains everything I like about Tasmania. It has a rich and brutal history, an astounding collection of natural wonders, and an abundance of stunning views. Where each cell in our body contains our complete blueprint, I believe the Tasman peninsula reflects the identity of Australia.
The penal colony of Port Arthur was opened in the 1830's in a little tucked away harbour, and stood as the endpoint for some of the worst offenders to the British crown. Typically these were incorrigable men who wouldn't adapt to the prison system elsewhere. These men were tasked with carving out by hand their own prison. This harsh prison system had the men providing all the labor necessary to support their incarceration with no thought towards ease of conditions, or efficiency of action. Once they established a meager living and their numbers grew they then moved on to public works projects such as roads, increased farming, etc.
I'd wager that I am a lot like many modern people who have never felt awed by the power of agriculture, being conditioned to having instant access to every conceivable product. I have to admit that I became awestruck of the elements of primitive life in Tasmania, and how they resembled a machine getting up to speed. Cut trees down, and you get buildings, plant crops and you will get vegetables, raise sheep for wool, cows for milk and beef. There is a complicated relationship between all these pieces. There was no alternative than to exploit the land, no Wal-Mart, no air-drops, trains, or even highways as a supply line to any other resources. They were limited to what they could grow, harvest, or slaughter. This is akin to going camping in the remote woods, and then slowly building into a town with almost no outside assistance. Expansionism and fronteirism akin to manifest destiny was powered by the labor the detritus of society.
As with anyone who really wants to understand history, I often put myself into the position of those who were there. What must it have been like to be a British Solder in 19th century England to be shipped halfway across the world to a distant land? It must have felt like the beginning of time. Imagine being forced to leave everything you know and love for an indefinite period because of a criminal act. While there is certainty that many men were guilty of the crimes they were prosecuted for, there must also have been men who's guilt was a machination of state incompetence. Both men, innocent and guilty lined the sweltering and filthy bunks of the convict ships headed south.
I'm on a beach facing the sun, there is no noise but the waves, and the heaviness of the heat seems to push me deep into the hot sand. I have just walked across the thinnest part of Eaglehawk Neck, from the inner bay to the beach. I have followed slowly and methodically along the path of the infamous dog line. The reason this peninsula was selected was due to this particular feature, in concert with a similar neck to the north it forms a natural barrier to escape. The method to keep the convicts from escaping was to chain a line of ferocious dogs at intervals along this point. The line consisted of as few as 10, to as many as 18 snarling dogs stretching out onto platforms that extended far into the surf, taking account for the tide. There is a monument to the dog line that resides only a few feet from the road. From there I followed the short path to the sea. I struggle to look for any signs.. a raised mound, a rusty chain on the bushes, but they are all long gone by now.
The peninsula is a popular tourist destination now. In addition to the obvious historical interest the area attracts, it is filled with rare geological formations. There is the tesselated pavement only a few hundred meters from the dog line up the beach, as well as the Tasman Arch (see picture), and the Blowhole. Each one of these features would draw crowds on its own, but it is all within a few kilometers of area upon entering the peninsula.
Eaglehawk Neck is the reason for the Penal colony that was built here, and Port Arthur has become a thorough and informative national monument which respects both sides of the law whose history it bears. There are informative tours, that includes a moment when the visitors, rather sinisterly, select cards from a deck. Each card represents a former inhabitant of the prison, gaurd, or prisoner. You earn your card by chance, and I can't think of a more fitting way to instill a respect for past then this. What was once a prison, is now a place that people flock to, to learn about their own past and to gain insight to where they come from. I'm standing on an empty beach appreciating the contrast between my heaven and their hell.
aglehawk Neck is the name of the 150 meter wide bridge that connects the Tasman peninsula to the rest of the island of Tasmania. While spending a few days in the area recently I realized that the Tasman peninsula contains everything I like about Tasmania. It has a rich and brutal history, an astounding collection of natural wonders, and an abundance of stunning views. Where each cell in our body contains our complete blueprint, I believe the Tasman peninsula reflects the identity of Australia.The penal colony of Port Arthur was opened in the 1830's in a little tucked away harbour, and stood as the endpoint for some of the worst offenders to the British crown. Typically these were incorrigable men who wouldn't adapt to the prison system elsewhere. These men were tasked with carving out by hand their own prison. This harsh prison system had the men providing all the labor necessary to support their incarceration with no thought towards ease of conditions, or efficiency of action. Once they established a meager living and their numbers grew they then moved on to public works projects such as roads, increased farming, etc.I'd wager that I am a lot like many modern people who have never felt awed by the power of agriculture, being conditioned to having instant access to every conceivable product. I have to admit that I became awestruck of the elements of primitive life in Tasmania, and how they resembled a machine getting up to speed. Cut trees down, and you get buildings, plant crops and you will get vegetables, raise sheep for wool, cows for milk and beef. There is a complicated relationship between all these pieces. There was no alternative than to exploit the land, no Wal-Mart, no air-drops, trains, or even highways as a supply line to any other resources. They were limited to what they could grow, harvest, or slaughter. This is akin to going camping in the remote woods, and then slowly building into a town with almost no outside assistance. Expansionism and fronteirism akin to manifest destiny was powered by the labor the detritus of society.
As with anyone who really wants to understand history, I often put myself into the position of those who were there. What must it have been like to be a British Solder in 19th century England to be shipped halfway across the world to a distant land? It must have felt like the beginning of time. Imagine being forced to leave everything you know and love for an indefinite period because of a criminal act. While there is certainty that many men were guilty of the crimes they were prosecuted for, there must also have been men who's guilt was a machination of state incompetence. Both men, innocent and guilty lined the sweltering and filthy bunks of the convict ships headed south.
I'm on a beach facing the sun, there is no noise but the waves, and the heaviness of the heat seems to push me deep into the hot sand. I have just walked across the thinnest part of Eaglehawk Neck, from the inner bay to the beach. I have followed slowly and methodically along the path of the infamous dog line. The reason this peninsula was selected was due to this particular feature, in concert with a similar neck to the north it forms a natural barrier to escape. The method to keep the convicts from escaping was to chain a line of ferocious dogs at intervals along this point. The line consisted of as few as 10, to as many as 18 snarling dogs stretching out onto platforms that extended far into the surf, taking account for the tide. There is a monument to the dog line that resides only a few feet from the road. From there I followed the short path to the sea. I struggle to look for any signs.. a raised mound, a rusty chain on the bushes, but they are all long gone by now.The peninsula is a popular tourist destination now. In addition to the obvious historical interest the area attracts, it is filled with rare geological formations. There is the tesselated pavement only a few hundred meters from the dog line up the beach, as well as the Tasman Arch (see picture), and the Blowhole. Each one of these features would draw crowds on its own, but it is all within a few kilometers of area upon entering the peninsula.Eaglehawk Neck is the reason for the Penal colony that was built here, and Port Arthur has become a thorough and informative national monument which respects both sides of the law whose history it bears. There are informative tours, that includes a moment when the visitors, rather sinisterly, select cards from a deck. Each card represents a former inhabitant of the prison, gaurd, or prisoner. You earn your card by chance, and I can't think of a more fitting way to instill a respect for past then this. What was once a prison, is now a place that people flock to, to learn about their own past and to gain insight to where they come from. I'm standing on an empty beach appreciating the contrast between my heaven and their hell.
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