Tarraleah. The town that’s not a town.
At least, not anymore.
Originally built in the 1930s to house employees for the local Hydro plant, an automation of much of the machinery resulted in a drastic cut in the number of workers. Now, the ‘town’ is all one property owned by a local family and has become a small tourist hub, on route to many other Tasmanian hotspots. Its holiday attraction means the property is well kept, a row of 1930s cottages still stand, looking out to a well kept green, pond and a small family of ducks, resulting in many an intrigued visitor likening the place to Pleasantville. As a member of staff, I am one of around twenty people who actually live here.
The area is surrounded by hills and forests, green waves spreading into the distance. A lookout spot displays landscape vistas of expansive valleys, distinctive hydro pipes sprawled across. Short walks take us to waterfalls, lakes, ponds and forest trails.
When not working in the bar or the café (where I’ve finally been given the chance to develop skills as a barista), living in such a place can require imagination and inspiration. It has encouraged our inner child and created a family like bond within our small community. Our staff accommodation is a place of joy. Blanket forts, movie nights and massage trains, jamming sessions involving tin can drums and ukaleles. Wooden canoe rides on the lake and late night expeditions in search of the Tasmanian Devil.
As simple as our daily lives may be here, it is one of the most rewarding parts in my journey so far.
