This is why I was in Tasmania in the dead of winter. For the Huon Valley Mid-Winter Festival.
It's all about burning things and wassailing to the trees.
There was also a long-table banquet lunch that I attended on the Saturday.
The festival went for 3 days, the third on Sunday was a family day, I elected not to go to that.
On Friday was the welcome ceremony and the burning of 'Big Willy'.
It had been raining off and on on the lead up to the Friday and continued to do so during Friday night.
I wore; a long sleeved t-shirt, an insulated flannel-esque shirt (except it was all synthetic) and then over the top a SpiritHoods faux fur calf length coat, and in all of this I was only just warm enough.
The site the Ranelagh show grounds was already quite sodden, and would get a lot worse on the following day.
On Friday night I arrived at about 6:30 pm with the intention to get something to eat, see the welcome ceremony and burning man and then leave.
The music held only a passing interest for me, I was mostly there for the experience.
Also, not a big drinker, while I acknowledge it's a bit of an irony to be at a cider festival and not partake all that much.
For dinner I had a smoked and slow cooked lamb shank with creamy mash, followed a while later by a fancy doughnut, which was as big as a side plate.
Everything, it being Tasmania and a environmentally conscious festival was served in paper or bamboo fibre bowls etc, there was very little plastic around, and if it was it was bioplastic.
Martin Maudsley
One of the highlights that I didn't expect would be was the storytelling tent, especially the international storyteller Martin Maudsley, who told quite a dark deep folk tale, which is probably quite old, I'm sure I've heard it told before, but the way he told it, just stuck with me. Looking at his website the tale was 'Wayland the Smith'.
The welcome began very mediaeval torches and people wearing furs and carrying shields.
It's very much riffing on a lot of history that doesn't quite exist in Tasmania in relation to apple harvesting and cider making and all that. But it feels genuine.
They wound their way from the bottom of a small incline up to where 'Big Willie' was, then everything went red as flares were lit, followed by the setting alight of the 15 metre tall man.
The music that was playing then takes a bit of a turn mixing in new age electronica and didgeridoo music along with folk music as Big Willy started to properly burn.
Saturday
I was there at 1:00 pm for the lunch mid-winter banquet. A long table banquet of wintery food and beverages from the cider genre.
Overnight the rain had not done great things to the site, I'd actually gotten an email saying that gumboots were essential, and that the plentiful parking in the paddock next to the site had become impassable and for 4WDs only. I elected to park there because I had a 4WD and the grass wasn't too sodden. When I came to leave later that night I still needed to engage 4WD to actually get out however.
Also, within the festival grounds itself they'd obviously decided to try and deal with the mud by using the large amount of hay bales around the site which were for seating and dividing up areas and instead spread it out onto the mud to try and soak or spread out the mud.
Looking at it I thought that might work for an hour or two, but it wasn't going to solve any problems.
We were greeted with one of two cocktails during the feast. It had ice, something that given the temperature was a bit pointless. It contained...something apple, something strong and something...else. I'm not a big fan of cocktails, and struggled to identify the flavours beyond these. It was strong and I didn't finish it.
The entrees were presented off to the side of the tent and a lot of people missed them as they were walking in.
There were slow roasted / smoked potatoes with smoked salt and aioli and also beef hanger steak, slow cooked over coals served with a salsa verde.
The potatoes were served in a little bamboo container, the beef was served with a toothpick to pick it up with.
I went back to both areas a few times because a lot of people seemed to file in, get their cocktail and then take a seat, while I as a solo dinner and attendee had no real compulsion to sit down with anyone, so I stuck around the food.
Once I got to the table, I found there was sourdough and cultured butter to eat it with.
The main course was simple, delicious, on the surface rustic, but quite complex flavours with a mediaeval bend to it. Everything was served on very heavy wooden boards. With everything cooked over or on fire. Done so by beardy men.
I did take some photos but everything was under red lights, a theme for the festival or maybe a subconscious colour trick to persuade everyone that it was warm, I'm not sure.
But even with copious amounts of colour correction I'm not sure if I've got the photos I took back to what colour they should have been (because I only ever saw it under red light).
We were served Willie Smith's French Blend cider with the meal, I had less than everyone else, but still consumed some. It was deliciously complex cider, a really delicate and complicated mix of tannins and flavours playing over the tongue and back palate when drinking it. Especially as the initial chill of the drink came away and I sipped it as it warmed a little bit. Then the lingering flavours on the tongue gave way to a earthy, punchy apple flavour, like the smell of an old apple on a tree, or being in an apple grove, it was wonderfully evocative and complicated. Writing this up now I am regretting not stopping in at Willie Smith's and buying a few to bring home with me.
While waiting for the Wassail to begin I wandered the tents of music and performance. Saw a lady begin a song by saying "this song's about euthanasia, but don't worry, it's upbeat". It was not upbeat at all, maybe if you just listened to the guitar chords it might have been.
I also saw Martin Maudsley again who spoke with enthusiasm about a festival having a storytelling tent amongst its performance spaces. He told a story about a fish granting wishes and a devil who asked questions and a fisherman who turned into a milk farmer after giving away fish.
Brave person in a costume on stilts on the muddy ground
He also told a story from one of the Brothers Grimm's groups of stories. But as the temperature dropped, and I rugged myself up, I became a little drowsy. I do remember sitting and listening to him. But then, and now writing this up I don't remember much from his second tale.
The bonfire was lit around 4:20 pm, and was properly alight around 20 minutes later.
This provided a nice focal point for the festival, although I was wary of getting too close as I was wearing two different items of clothing made from faux fur; not the friendliest of materials to fire. Although there were other people in very synthetic coats and jackets that were fine standing close to the fire pits who weren't worried. But given the fluffiness of the faux fur I was a bit more cautious.
Huonville weather 13 July 2019 6.33pm
By 5:30 pm the temperature was down to 4.8º with a feels like temperature of 1.4º, an hour later the temperature was still the same but the feels like had dropped to 0.2º.
Unlike when I was at Pumphouse Point, here the vibe, the feeling around people and place, kept my mood high.
The rain also (mostly) stayed away during the Wassailing, which was good. I had an umbrella handy, but it was unneeded for the most part during the wassail.
We sang the wassail song, there was a shotgun that was fired.
It was all very ancient and traditional (despite only being started here in 2014). But with the fire, flaming torches, Morris Dancers and everything else, it felt like this had been going on for years and years.
As the Wassail finished and the temperature driving further downwards from zero, and mud coming up above my ankles I trudged back to my ute and returned to the whispering ponies.