'You're going where?" exclaimed the bottle blond behind the counter of one of Sydney's surf-shops. I'd just mentioned that I was on my way to Tasmania, and he could barely believe it. "I suppose someone's got to. Try and have a good time," he said, more in hope than the expectation that such a thing was possible on Australia's island state.
Like many others on the mainland, he clearly thought that anyone abandoning the north island for the chip of rock off Australia's south-eastern corner was certifiable. It is a view that has held considerable sway since the 19th century, when Tasmania, then Van Diemen's Land, hosted a fearsome prison.
In The Fatal Shore, his history of the transportation era, Robert Hughes describes the fledgling colony as a "pit within the antipodean darkness, a small hole in the world about the size of Ireland, which would in due time swallow more than 65,000 men and women convicts - four out of every 10 people transported to Australia".
Things have improved considerably since then, but this beautiful, easy-going island continues to have an image problem. When the name Van Diemen's Land was abandoned in favour of Tasmania, honouring its 17th-century Dutch discoverer Abel Tasman, it was not so much a re-naming as a re-branding.
Today, the sniffiness of mainlanders is undeserved and based on parochial prejudice. Sadly, it continues to deter many of the five million visitors who annually visit Australia from taking the short hop across the Bass Straits to find out for themselves.
Those who do bother will find a treat awaiting them. Temperate, verdant, peaceful, blessed with some jaw-dropping scenery, heaving with wildlife and littered with reminders of the transportation era, the island is a refreshing contrast to Australia's parched interior and baking coasts.
The difference is apparent from the moment you step off the plane at Hobart's homely airport. Depending on which direction the breeze is blowing, you will either be bathed in the warm blast of a northerly or scurrying for your fleece in the teeth of a southerly.
This is a crucial early lesson; the wind is central to Tasmania's climate and dominates conversation to a degree that English visitors - no slouches themselves when it comes to discussing the weather - can only admire. The island sits in the roaring forties, and when the southerlies do blow, they come direct from Antarctica with nothing to take the edge off them until they reach you. However, in spring and summer, they are rare, and, contrary to popular myth, Hobart is one of the driest state capitals in Australia.
Wind aside, the climate is the very definition of comfortable, which suits the bushwalkers, climbers and kayakers who rate the place as highly as anywhere in Australia. The diversity of the landscape is immediately apparent, too. Hobart sits on a broad and benign stretch of the Derwent river, and is built on seven gently rolling hills wooded with the tall grey-green eucalypts that cover most of the island. At its back, however, stands Mount Wellington, a wall of rock that rises to 1,250m, less than a mile from the sea; it is the sort of place that gives geologists the vapours.
Tasmanians will tell you it takes a month to see the island properly, and they're probably right. But a week is long enough to do justice to the east coast, a seemingly endless ribbon of deserted white sand beaches.
In the north-east, Scottsdale is a good place to start. In the hills above the town grow some of the biggest trees in the world. Eucalyptus regnum (colloquially, mountain ash) can grow to over 90m. My guide, Craig Williams, has lived among them all his life. As we walked beneath the eucalypts and towering tree ferns, he occasionally darted off the trail to grab handfuls of sasafraz, mountain pepper and eucalyptus leaves. These, he explained, were would constitute dinner.
Williams has combined his talents as a former master butcher, bushman and keen cook to create a unique restaurant. It can get drafty, but given that it is 700m up on an exposed hilltop and has neither walls nor roof, that's to be expected. The views, the cooking and the company more than make up for it.
From Scottsdale, the coastal road passes south through some of the island's most spectacular scenery. The highlight is the Freycinet peninsula, an idyllic curl of pinky-orange granite fringed with silica sand that forms the eastern arm of Great Oyster Bay. Freycinet was named by the French explorer Nicolas Baudin, whose 1802 expedition to chart the coast prompted the English to begin settlement of Van Diemen's Land in order to protect their southern interests against the French.
Unlike the English settlers who wiped them out, Baudin wrote at length about the Aborigines who lived here. They subsisted on the rich fruits of the sea, and the discarded shells are a feature of the spellbinding beaches.
Chief among them is Wine glass Bay, tucked behind the three peaks of the Hazard mountains, and reached by a steep track that passes over them. The reward is a deserted mile of white sand lapped by clear, cool water.
And there are a dozen equally idyllic stretches of surf here that can be explored on foot or by kayak. Best of all, however, is Maria Island, a former penal settlement in the Mercury Passage, south of Freycinet, now inhabited only by a couple of park rangers and an abundance of wildlife. There are no cars, and just a few buildings remain including the penitentiary, that which now serves as rudimentary accommodation for more willing visitors.
The island's most colourful period followed the arrival of Diego Bernacchi in 1884, an Anglo-Italian entrepreneur whose dreams for Maria were grander in design than execution. Silk, wine and cement were among the industries he tried and failed to establish here. His legacy is a number of weatherboard houses built for staff and a Coffee Palace, now housing a small museum.
Fascinating though the history is, Maria's chief delight is its tranquillity. Walking the island is a privilege. A company will begin hosting guided three-day tours in January, but otherwise the visitor has to be self-sufficient. It's worth it. Twelve of the 13 indigenous Tasmanian birds roost here, sea and wedge-tailed eagles cruise the thermals, and wombats, wallabies and kangaroos wander the island apparently undisturbed by the small trickle of visitors.
Way to go
Getting there: Bridge the World (0870 4441716, bridgetheworld.com) offers return flights from London to Hobart, Tasmania with Qantas/ British Airways from £862 return Hobart. Valid for departures between the Jan 15 - April 19 2003. Must be booked by Dec 31.
Where to stay: Hobart: The Moorilla Estate (+3 6277 9900, moorilla.com.au). Scottsdale: Anabel's (+3 6352 3277, anabels@vision.net.au). Freycinet peninsula: Edge of the Bay (+3 6257 0102, edgeofthebay.com.au).
Activities: The north- east: wilderness tours and gourmet bush tucker with Pepper Bush Peaks, Scottsdale (+3 6352 2263, pepper@microtech.com.au). Sea kayaking including overnight treks can be booked through Freycinet Adventures (+3 6257 0500, tasadventures.com/freycinetadventures). East coast and Maria Island: East Coast Eco Tours (+3 6257 3453, springbay.tco.asn.au/ecotours), The Maria Island Walk (+3 6227 8800, mariaislandwalk.com.au).
Further information: Australian Tourist Commission, Gemini House, 10-18 Putney Hill. London SW15 6AA (brochure line: 0870 5561434, australia.com).
Country code: 00 61
Flight time: London-Sydney 23hrs, Sydney-Hobart 1hr 50min.
Time difference: +9hrs.
£1 = 2.69 Australian dollars.
