The Thrifty people looked shocked that we would have even dreamed that there would be such a thing as a petrol station at the airport, and warned us of the surcharge for filling up the car: basically you pay about double the price per litre that you’d pay if you did it yourself.Well, it was only a quarter of a tank, and a small car, and I couldn’t be arsed going and finding a servo, so I said they could do it themselves.The little car did well climbing the mountain, and nearing the top, we found trees with some snow on them.Right at the peak is a comms tower and a car park, and we stopped and parked, then added whatever layers of clothes we could find to have a quick look around.I’d already noted the UK-style yellow lines indicating parking restrictions, but apart from the one way streets, otherwise nothing seemed different.(As a pedestrian I had noted the pedestrian lights seemed much more responsive than most Victorian ones, and at many intersections they wisely gave pedestrians a few seconds’ head start over cars.) We managed to find the road up to Mount Wellington.Add to this unfamiliarity with the car, and the dread of having to do a hill start in traffic, and I wasn’t having a good time during the initial few minutes of driving.
And as a bonus we could pick it up in the city and drop it at the airport, for no extra charge.And it turned out to be all up, so for the avoidance of effort, wasn’t so bad.Different story if we’d been driving a 4WD and the tank was empty. Sitting around a table, drinking beers and possibly looking a little the worse for wear after two and a half days’ rampage through Tassie.We went back into Richmond proper and had a little look around, before driving to the airport, watching out along the way for a petrol station.I thought I saw one in Cambridge, just before getting onto the freeway, but thought “there’s bound to be one at the airport.” There wasn’t.Down the freeway for a bit then we turned off and headed to Richmond.More and more the country was reminding me of West Sussex where some of my relatives live — very green, but mostly farmland.Then it started spitting, followed by a little snow, and we high-tailed it back to the car, and headed back down the mountain.Stopping momentarily about halfway down, it started snowing.Quite soon more tourists arrived, and soon they (and us, I suppose) were swarming around taking pictures.We strolled up to the nearby Catholic church (again, the oldest one in the country) and had a look inside and around the graveyard, a very picturesque location on top of a hill, with graves both old and new dotted around.