North from Oatlands to the regional centre of Launceston, the precise pronunciation of which I'm still unsure.
Lest we waste the remaining daylight we drove on to the curious Swiss-style village of Grindelwald. Although a pastiche and certainly a tourist trap it nevertheless brought back memories of walks through rainy towns in Valais. The weather probably helped.
And it had rabbits.
Stopping at the old mill in the sandstone town of Oatlands as the wind surged through ahead of stormy weather.
Back from the hill and over the rail lines, strolling round to the town's centre before motoring south.
The cemetery at Ross. For whatever arcane reason, divided along religious lines.