I was due to fly in to Launceston the next morning, so my ears pricked up at this disconcerting titbit of conversation between the Melbourne bottle shop assistant and a customer enquiring about Tasmanian pinot noir for dinner. "Sorry, mate, but Tasmania's glory days are over. Nah, Tasmania just doesn't cut the mustard these days." Was this dismissive assessment simply the competitive sour grapes of a Victorian rival or was there was some truth in it? I was keen to find out, but the manager's remarks were no more auspicious than a weather forecast showing mainland Australia bathed in sunshine, with rain due to fall only on its own little heart-shaped piece of down under. For once, we were following the weather rather than bringing it with us. Luckily, it only lasted a day.

Flying in across the Bass Strait, Tasmania looked so English it must have seemed a natural place for the early settlers to establish their settlements. Even during an Australian summer, our bird's-eye view was a postcard of rolling, tree-clad hills and verdant pastures. First impressions were reinforced by resonant names like Windermere and Runnymede, seemingly adopted because of a resemblance to their English counterparts. Considerable wishful thinking had clearly gone into gracing one-horse towns with the names of Cambridge, Richmond and Exeter. Victoriana with a colonial feel lives on in cityscapes and street names such as Balfour, Granville and Palmerston. There's even respite in Tasmania's benign environment from the pesky flies, monster spiders and deadly snakes of the mainland. If the temperature climbs over 25C, the locals consider it hot.

But Tassie (pronounced Tazzy) is Australia. When the temperature does go over 25C, the havoc the hole in the ozone layer can wreak on a person's skin makes you exceedingly grateful that the sun doesn't get much fiercer. Even the sheep stick their heads under the broad umbrella shade of squat native pine for protection. Narrow roads wind past lightning-struck ghost gums through dense eucalyptus forests with parachute-shaped orange, bluey-green and russet tips. Towns and countryside are sparsely populated and the main action on the island's narrow winding roads is interrupting the odd crow or raptor settling in for a roadkill tartare of wallaby or a rare treat of flattened Tasmanian devil. Thanks to the recent cut-price air fares, most of Tassie's visitors come across from the mainland, keen to experience its unspoilt wilderness, its colourful convict and bushranger past, and, of course, its food and wine.

After the disappearance of vineyards established in the early 1800s, the story of Tasmania's modern wine industry begins with the arrival of two pioneers in the 1950s, Jean Miguet from France and Claudio Alcorso from Italy. Both spent their early lives in Australia dealing with horrendous prejudice and yet both established a toehold for wine, one north of Launceston in the Tamar Valley region of the north, the other on the Derwent River close to Hobart in the south. Since those early days, Tasmania's vineyards were developed piecemeal mainly around Launceston and Hobart by a motley crew: immigrants looking for a patch of dirt to invest in, farmers aiming to diversify and mainland exiles in search of the good life.

Today, Tasmania's 130-odd wineries are mostly content to sell their wares to a captive local market. But the significant development of the last decade has been the arrival of the Big Boys from the mainland, bringing an urgent sense of commercialism to the island's 1,200 hectare patchwork of small vineyards. Instead of shiraz, for which it's too cool, 40 per cent of vineyards are planted to the pinot noir grape (of red burgundy), 28 per cent to chardonnay (a third of which goes into fizz) and half as much again to a combination of the aromatic white grapes, riesling and sauvignon. The nature of the island's cool, maritime climate and hilly terrain makes these grapes more expensive to grow, so the dozen or so bigger wineries are embarking on ways of bringing Tasmanian wines into the more competitive, Aussie mainstream.

On the evening we arrived in Launceston, Tasmania's second largest city, my wife and I wandered from the elegant country house surroundings of Hatherley House to the Stillwater River Café at Ritchie's Mill, where we ate finely crafted tuna trevalla sashimi with lime soy dressing and ginger-rubbed Tasmanian salmon. Next day, we set out on the Tamar Valley wine route north of the city. Among 21 other cellar doors en route, there's Providence, Jean Miguet's vineyard, the scenic Marion's Vineyard and Jinglers Creek, a small vineyard run by Irving Fong, a Chinese immigrant who checked out of an old people's home and married a 35-year old Chinese woman after deciding his time wasn't up yet.

Pipers Brook is Tasmania's best-known winery. It was the brainchild of Dr Andrew Pirie, who set out to make burgundy-style pinot noir back in 1974 by planting pinot noir in Tasmania's marginal climate. "We ended up being a foot closer to champagne than I realised at the time," says the charismatic Pirie, whose enduring legacy isTasmania's most successful brand for pinot noir and aromatic whites, Ninth Island. It's now owned by Kreglinger, a Belgian company attracted to its potential for "terroir" wines. Its MD, Paul de Moor, says: "Before 2002, Tassie was the location to go from, not to, but in 2002 Tasmanian wine started to take off. The potential is high for pinot noir and sparkling wine, but the best is yet to come." We stopped off at Pipers Brook's attractive lunchtime restaurant, sampling the champagne-like Kreglinger Brut and the excellent Ninth Island wines.

The valley drive from Pipers Brook takes you west across the Batman suspension bridge to Tamar Ridge, whose new winemaker is none other than Pirie. Before his arrival, the wine was made by a quiet achiever, Mike Fogarty, who helped to put the Tamar Ridge name on the map for fine pinot noir, chardonnay, riesling and sauvignon blanc. After Gunns, the controversial timber conglomerate took over, Fogarty left to plough his own vineyard furrow, and Pirie was hired to work with the renowned viticulturalist Dr Richard Smart to oversee the expansion of accessible wine styles under the Devils Corner label.

Two of Tasmania's other major sparkling producers with impressive cellar doors are owned by mainland producers. Bay of Fires, a Hardy's operation, is run by Fran Austin, a waif of a winemaker producing superb aromatic whites and sparkling wines. The second is Jansz, formerly a joint venture with Louis Roederer Champagne. At its modern cellar door facilitya video shows winemaker Natalie Fryar giving insights into the process of making what they call, tongue ever so slightly in cheek, their "méthode Tasmanoise".

From Launceston, the scenic route to Hobart winds through eucalyptus forest down to the east coast and Coles Bay. This is a broad, rugged shoreline of pure white sandy beaches, azure blue sea and the tall, green forests of the Freycinet National Park. Sea and sky compete for shades of blue, turquoise and green in a landscape of glorious natural beauty. At the former whaling town of Bicheno, Brian Franklin's Apsley Gorge has been converted from fish processing factory to winery. Crayfishing seems to be the main activity, if activity is the right word for this quiet coastal village, whose bakery makes the tastiest scallop pies. With a nice little earner from his abalone [shellfish] diver's licence, Franklin is able to go regularly to Burgundy, where he's learnt the art of making delicious chardonnay and pinot noir. Call him in advance, and you can sit on his terrace with a plate of oysters surrounding a freshly caught giant crayfish and a glass of his Burgundy-style chardonnay. If you can avoid dozing off, you'll have time to call at Freycinet on the road further south towards Swansea. Here, Lindy Bull and her husband Claudio Radenti make some of Tasmania's best pinot noir, a stylish fizz and riesling, as well as a refreshing beer, Hazards Ale.

Outside Swansea, there's TV and telephone if you want them in the self-catering sandstone and timber cottages of the Piermont Retreat. But why fill your head with white noise when you can relax on the wooden deck overlooking beach and shimmering ocean with nothing but the sound of morning birdsong and gently breaking waves to disturb the peace? We could have spent a week in these tranquil surroundings. The young husband-and-wife team are building a restaurant and day spa to accompany the swimming pool, tennis courts and kayaking, so next time we will. We had been told that Left Bank and Kabuki are the places to eat, but both are closed on Mondays, so we ended up at Makepeace on the Bay. This buzzy local eatery surprised us with the most satisfying reef'n'beef dish imaginable: grass-fed fillet of Tasmanian beef surrounded by shoals of prawns and scallops in a crayfish sauce.

Along the coastal road heading south towards Hobart, green pasture sweeps down from gum-clad hills to meet beaches and the expanse of ocean beyond. We were heading south-west inland to the Coal River Valley, where, thanks to his uncompromising methods, the Swiss immigrant Peter Althaus defies the climate to make Tasmania's most respectable, and respected Bordeaux-style cabernet sauvignon from his vineyard planted in 1989. From the Coal River Valley it's a short hop, skip and a jump via Meadowbank to Hobart. Meadowbank's pretty winery is a well-stocked shop and highly regarded restaurant whose wines are made over the road at Andrew Hood. Here, * * we discovered the art installation A Flawed History of Tasmanian Wine, the pun signifying a tongue-in-cheek perspective on Tasmanian wine history in a wood cut-out floor mural combined with a clever wine tasting experience.

They say that Hobart, Australia's second oldest city, is the second driest capital after Adelaide. But Hobart tends to blow hot and cold because of the proximity of Mount Wellington and we arrived to experience four seasons in one day, rain one minute, bright sunshine the next. Built on either side of the Derwent River, Hobart's pretty harbour, a deep water port for Antarctica, is studded with yachts, masted riggers and icebreakers. From the waterfront, ferries ply their trade to the Cadbury's factory on the Derwent River, Peppermint Bay Restaurant, and the Moorilla Winery.

On a short walk around the capital, we took in the fine row of early merchant warehouses at Salamanca Place near the waterfront, now home to a Saturday market, pavement cafés and art and craft galleries. Ten minutes' walk away, the former maritime village of Battery Point is a lively centre of antique shops, tea-rooms and restaurants with fishermen's cottages, shops and churches evoking a lively seafaring past. Appetite duly whetted, it was just a minute's walk from our dockside hotel, Somerset on the Pier, to Fish Frenzy on the waterfront. Here you can munch, and we did, on the freshest beer or tempura-battered blue eye, flathead and trevalla washed down with a refreshingly crisp glass of Wellington Riesling, all for less than £20 for two.

The first serious establishment of pinot noir in Tasmania was in 1958 at Moorilla by the urbane Claudio Alcorso. The next day we took the cruise from Hobart's dockside up the Derwent River past the catamaran-building sheds and the Cadbury's factory at Claremont to the Moorilla, which today encompasses five-star chalet apartments, a fine restaurant on the river and a museum of Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Roman, pre-Columbian and African antiquities. The Moorilla Wine and Food Centre makes one of the best winery visits on the island, not least because Moorilla makes superb wines, from a true-to-type single vineyard pinot noir, to elegant chardonnay, riesling and stylish fizz, and a delicious beer, Moo Brew. I only wished I'd had time to have gone back to that bottle shop in Melbourne to let the assistant know that Tassie's glory days, far from over, were only just beginning.

TRAVELLER'S GUIDE

GETTING THERE

The easiest route to Tasmania is via Melbourne, which is served by Qantas, BA, Cathay Pacific, Emirates, Singapore Airlines and Malaysia Airlines. From there, Qantas, Jetstar (00 61 3 8341 4901; www.jetstar.com) and Virgin Blue (00 61 7 3295 2296; www.virginblue.com.au) fly to Launceston and Hobart. To reduce the impact on the environment, you can buy an "offset" from climate care (01865 207 000; www.climatecare.org). The environmental cost of a return flight to Melbourne, in economy, is around £42.

The writer travelled with Wine Australia (020-7887 5259; www.wineaustralia.com).

STAYING THERE

Hatherley House, 43 High St, Launceston (00 61 3 6334 7727; www.hatherleyhouse.com.au). Suites from A$250 (£106), room only. Piermont Retreat, Tasman Highway, Swansea (00 61 3 6257 8131; www.piermont.com.au). Cottages from A$230 (£98), room only. Cornwall Hotel, 16 St John St, Launceston (00 61 3 6333 7555; www.cornwallhotel.com.au). Doubles from A$250 (£106), room only. Somerset on the Pier, Elizabeth St Pier, Hobart (00 61 3 6220 6600; www.somersetonthepier.com). Doubles from A$185 (£80).

EATING & DRINKING THERE

Stillwater River Café, Paterson St, Launceston (00 61 3 6331 4153; www.stillwater.net.au). The Left Bank Cafe, 7 Maria St, Swansea (00 61 3 6257 8896). Fish Frenzy, Elizabeth St Pier, Hobart (00 61 3 6231 2134). Meadowbank Estate, 699 Richmond Road, Cambridge (00 61 3 6248 4484; www.meadowbankwines.com.au). Moorilla Wine & Food Centre, 695 Main Rd, Berriedale (00 61 3 6277 9900). Peppermint Bay Restaurant, 3435 Channel Highway, Woodbridge (00 61 3 6267 4088).

FURTHER INFORMATION

Wine South Tasmania (www.wine south.com.au). Tourism Tasmania (00 61 3 6230 8235; www.discovertasmania.com).