Rosebery (spelt correctly) is one of the “towns” in the Western Wilderness of Tasmania. I passed through it twice, stopping only on the way back. At dusk. for petrol. Its situated in the middle of wilderness. Towns like this have true rural charm. The industry in and around the area will be mining.
It is one of four main settlements on the west coast of Tasmania. I visited them all, spending a night in Strahan, and a morning in Queenstown. The other two small towns, Zeehan and Rosebery, I simply stopped in for a while to admire their wildernistic beauty. On the way into Rosebery I double take the town name on the signpost for the missing “r”, there isn’t one. They don’t need it here. R’s, just like hours become less important in the peaceful untarnished tranquility of Rosebery.
It’s a busy working town however. People get on with work as normal. Despite the beautiful mountains in behind, and the many cars passing through on their “wilderness quest” (oh yeah, I was one of them). These people are almost together in their own solitude. If man can be. Miles from anywhere. In a timeframe only they know. I don’t see clocks. The day light ends and we know it’s time for bed. Dawn breaks and lonely towns awaken.
I drive past a mechanic in Rosebery, topless in the afternoon sun, hard at work. But yet can take it easy. There’s hardly the big pressure of the big city here. People know each other and smile. I pass the “local”, a white coloured building on a corner called “The Top Pub”, nice name, and a “top hat” logo makes itself a mural on their wall. In black. I don’t pop in for a pint. Or even a Coke. I prefer to pass down the opportunity. And leave the locals to it. Perhaps I should have went in. I’d have stood out from the crowd and probably got talking to the locals. But that’s something that didn’t happen, though I’d imagine they’d be a friendly bunch.
Like the lady in the petrol station. 5.31 pm it is. Oops thinks me. A light is on. And I desperately need petrol. “Still open?” I ask stupidly to the vendor, perhaps manager of the petrol station. “Of course” the reply. I filled the car up. It was a bit dearer, naturally, but that was OK. It should be dearer. There’s one petrol station in Rosebery. There’s one in Zeehan. There’s probably a few more in Strahan and Queenstown.
Surprisingly it’s a BP garage. British Petroleum. Commercialism and massive company influence has made it into the wilderness of Rosebery. That didn’t bother me on this occasion. Probably because I’m a consumer, and I needed petrol. The lady was friendly. Nobody would beep their horn at me for not shifting my car from a parking space on the main street. It’s their main street and they need to park there. I’m taking a few pictures. It’s dusk on my way back through Rosebery.