Hells Gates, Tasmania

Entering Hells Gates on a typical Strahan morning, grey skies and drizzle. Not a drop of breeze  kissed my skin. Is it fair to call such a beautiful spot “Hells Gates”, does it evoke fear in mans heart or make you want to visit, purely for the namesake.

I for one fell into the later group. I like the name.
It evokes thoughts of castles buffered along the rocky shoreline protecting those who entered and departed through the narrow slot of water.
Midnight sorties, arrows and cannon balls aloft as fires burn all night to keep the frost away from the soldiers. Which in turn helped with the name “hells gates”

“Who dares come knocking at my door and demand entrance to my sacred city? What say you, do you have to offer, sell or trade” If the answer  was not well suited to the knight on watch that evening then your boat was ransacked and scuttled and left to sprawl herself across the reefs that lay near by.

Those lucky enough to be permitted entrance found a peaceful calm bay, surrounded by wooded forest and fresh streams to quench a tired sailors thirst. Alas not all could be quenched from water and Strahan was embarked upon to calm a sailor down. The promise of cold beer,  warm food and women. Was all that kept many a cold and hungry sailor going.

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