Kingston Beach

Until 1930, there was prohibition on Sundays in Tasmania. But the law had a convenient enough loophole: travel more than seven miles, and it didn't apply. Kingston Beach blossomed during that time, drawing many day visitors from Hobart who ventured the 10 plus kilometers down the Channel so that they could legally drink, and the Kingston Hotel and the Australasian were the town’s favorite watering holes. The Australasian, which was down on the beachfront, advertised that it could stable up to 30 horses and 100 thirsty patrons, and a “sniff of the briny” was promised to “benefit visitors tired perhaps with the heat and worry of city life.”

I moved here in winter, so finding a house to rent was relatively easy. My yard has a grape arbor trellising the patio, as well as a fair-sized potato bed right under an apricot tree against the back fence. With the arrival of the district’s earliest settlers in the early 1800s, Kingston Beach, because of its light, sandy soil and equable climate, became known for its tasty potatoes, and in particular, the Redskin, also known as the Derwent or black potato. Tasmanians are particular about their potatoes, and each variety has a different use.

The Australasian, which was built in 1898, was sadly demolished in 1950. A grand two-story weatherboard with verandahs and romantic cast-iron corner latticework, it would have stood less than a couple of blocks away from where I live. Now, that very prime beachfront is occupied by dreary 1970s apartment blocks, with always busy take-aways on the ground floor.

(Quotes from “Brown’s River” by Julie Gardam)