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Published: April 28th 2010
Rutherglen
Lake King sunset - over water!When we started our Oz odyssey the country was in the grip of a 10-year drought; dry rivers, water restrictions, empty dams. But the drought has broken in many of the worst hit areas.
On our way north through Victoria at the same time as last year, we could be in a different country. Fields, trees, hills and hedges flash past in various shades of green where last year all was a lifeless, listless dusty grey-brown. Animals drink from farm dams and there is water under bridges that last year crossed dry ditches.
I’m writing this in the Rutherglen Caravan Park looking out over Lake King, which when we worked here last year we apologetically called Lake Jo-King as we checked in guests - it was completely dry. Now the sunsets, made even more stunning by smoke haze from burn-offs, reflect in the water which is now home to herons, ducks and coots.
We’ve been feeling the change in the weather for some weeks, although we expected cool breezes and the occasional shower travelling round the Eyre and Yorke peninsulas of South Australia which poke into the east of the Great Australian Bight, facing prevailing
Jetty at Ceduna
the beginning/end of civilization after/before the Nullarbor Plain weather coming across the Southern Ocean.
But heading inland into the Clare Valley we had to pull out the doona - even Barossa shiraz couldn’t ward off the chilly nights.
The Clare is the next set of valleys north of the Barossa Valley, which incidentally is a spelling mistake; Captain Light, who surveyed the region and planned the city of Adelaide, thought it looked like the Barrosa region in Spain. Top marks for urban design, a fail for spelling.
Now the antipodean Barossa is big, bustling, brash and bloody expensive - the best known and most hyped wine region in a country that really knows how to hype its wine regions.
We chose to stay in the Clare Valley, about 50km north and a completely different case of shiraz. The Clare is cute, laid back, compact and comparatively cheap, with some bargains to be had at cellar doors - as our packed under-seat storage (or cellar as we like to call it) attests.
There are 36 cellar doors clustered down a pretty valley 30km long, and we made a valiant attempt to visit as many as we could. Riesling was
Rural ruin
2. Station ruins, Denial Bay, Ceduna; South Australia is littered with the remains of stone farm buildings - casualties of change in climate and farm practises our main quest and I fell in love with the crisp, fruity nectar which comes from flinty soils - at Pikes we saw a core sample from their vineyard - a solid tube of dark gray slate which occurs in the valleys and erupts at various spots where settlers established slate quarries for building and trade.
The life of the pioneer seems more civilized here in the south - they were blessed with plentiful forests for timber, slate and granite for building and an equable climate for farming and living compared with the masochists who tried to tame the crumbling centre or festering jungles of the north.
Having now visited every state capital except Hobart, Adelaide strikes me as the most civilized in a sedate, cultured way. Designed in a radiating pattern with a generous green belt, it’s easy to get around, has wonderful old buildings, gardens etc and is a big city without being too big - in a sort of Hamilton (NZ) way.
Adelaide markets are the real thing, much better than Victoria Market in Melbourne or Sydney markets which have become tourist attractions. It has real food for real people -
Streaky Bay jetty
the Eyre Peninsula has long jetties jutting out around its edge like porcupine quills Adelasians turn up in droves with their mini shopping trolleys to pick up cheese, pastries, meats & vegies, every gourmet food you can think of and some that we had no idea what it was.
You have to bring your own bags/baskets, as no one in South Australia will give you a bag when shopping - in fact it is illegal for a retailers to provide ordinary (supermarket) plastic bags, so often you leave a shop feeling like a kleptomaniac, clutching your purchase in one hand and waving the receipt in the other so everyone can see it was a legitimate transaction.
It’s all part of SA’s commitment to reducing waste, keeping the state clean and improving the environment, along with giving substantial refunds for glass and plastic bottles, which apparently costs the state a fortune. This is all very admirable, but as no other state has the same regulations it makes you question both the method and efficacy - does SA do it just to shame the other states?
In any case, at the Adelaide market it’s easy to eat a lot of your purchases before you leave - delicious fresh fruit, real
Jetty sunrise
note cage on the right for swimmers â“ they like to fish for and eat shark rather than be eaten by sharks pork pies, handmade chocolates, baklava and other drool-worthy Mediterranean pastries.
I could be happy living in a 19th C inner-city stone cottage, walking to the market twice a week to get my ciabatta, pastrami and greens, a cup of Lucia’s coffee to keep me going for the saunter back through plane tree lined streets.
Unfortunately we couldn’t stay anywhere near the city as it was Easter and every camp ground was full - Australians take full advantage of the last long weekend good for camping before winter arrives. We got a few days in Mt Barker (SA not WA) in the middle of the Adelaide Hills - where winter was getting some practice in.
Mt Barker isn’t really geared for tourists, that’s the job of Hahndorf, 15 minutes away in the next valley.
Australia’s oldest surviving German settlement, established in 1839 by Lutherans escaping religious persecution, Hahndorf wasn’t as tackily touristy as we’d feared, although it was quiet when we were there - it might be different on a Saturday when hundreds of randy Adelaideans fill the many public houses to down high alcohol German style beers, sausages and sauerkraut.
Sea lion colony at Point Labatt
near Streaky Bay â“ they havenât been clubbed, they were just sleeping! However Mt Barker is a great base for the Adelaide Hills, (another wine region) and Mt Lofty which gives a stunning view of the city.
We chose a walk from Mt Lofty summit down through the Botanic Gardens, which was beautiful but hopelessly signposted so we got rather lost. This in itself was not so bad (we are by now used to being confused by Australian tourist maps) but a burn off on the other side of the mountain was producing an increasing amount of smoke and turning the sunlight an eerie pinkie-orange.
It was more than a little unnerving to be walking up the side of a mountain, through forest blackened by the 2006 bush fire, TOWARDS an advancing fire we could not see.
By the time we puffed and panted back up to the summit and our car, the city was obscured and tourists were calmly gazing out into plumes of smoke through a hazy glare.
We beat a hasty retreat to Hahndorf and a very welcome stein of the German Arms’ finest wheat bier.
At Easter we sought refuge in the less fashionable Mt Gambier, southernmost place
Murphyâs Haystacks, Streaky Bay
1500 million year old granite inselbergs â“ more amazing Aussie rocks! in SA and home to volcanoes, caves and sinkholes. In comparison to Mt Barker, Mt Gambier lays it on for tourists - realising they are a valuable part of their economy.
The Mt Gambier area reminded us of the Waikato - a mix of vast pinus radiata plantations, dairy and sheep farms, with lakes and green grass everywhere. Except for the Coonawarra of course - a 16km long by 2km wide strip of terra rossa soil which is supposed to produce the best Cabernet Sauvignon in the country.
It had been a holy grail for Rhys, but as well as being a visually boring area - grape vines never seem to look as good just on flat land - the wines did nothing for me.
I was waiting for something a lot more geographically inspiring - the Grampians.
We’d been through the Grampians once before, driving back to Melbourne, but I wanted to walk IN them rather than just look at them. It was however still Victorian school holidays and every camping ground in the National Park was at peak rates and worse - full of children.
So we stayed
Fishing boat unloading pilchards
at Port Lincoln wharf, the countryâs largest fishing port at Stawell, about 20 minutes from Halls Gap which is the epicentre of the Grampians and start of most of the popular walks.
The weather was closing in, but somehow it suited this dramatic cluster of mountain ranges - the last spectacular gasp of the Great Dividing Range which curves round the eastern half of the continent.
We drove to the main lookouts and two aboriginal art sites in one day, then just managed to climb the steep but easy track to the highest peak, Mt William, watching from the summit as the clouds swirled up the misty valleys and reaching the car as the rain set it.
Several hours were then gainfully spent at the Brambuk National Park and Cultural Centre in Halls Gap. My guess is that more overseas tourists visit this centre than Australians, but if every Aussie were to read the sobering history of the treatment of aboriginals, surely some of the prejudiced views we’ve been hearing would change?
Now in familiar territory of central Victoria, we made a flying visit to Melbourne to visit rellies Sheila and Keith, who have kindly been our ‘address’ in Oz so
Port Lincoln town jetty
they love their Norfolk Pine trees on the Eyre Peninsula we don’t sound like vagrants with no fixed abode.
We couldn’t leave without a dash around the National Gallery of Victoria. I’m always impressed that it's so FULL of people. I love Melbourne too...although it’s always cold! This does make it easier to wear black and look cool - we were only in the city for a few hours, but saw people wearing the most outlandish and wonderful clothing! Rhys had to tear me away from the bright city lights and I whimpered with city-withdrawal all the way back to Macedon.
Freezing cold or boiling hot - Melbourne’s weather is the pits. Would I love to live there? Hell yes I would!
Macedon, 60km north of the city in the Macedon Ranges was even colder, but very convenient if you don’t want to drag a large caravan into a big city. We drove up through the clouds to Mt Macedon, past gob-smackingly beautiful English-style mansions and gardens starting to show their brilliant autumn shades.
The view is incredible - even on a dreary autumn day we saw Melbourne plonked in the middle of patchwork plains - a city with the population of
Prawn boats
Prawn boats at Lincoln Cove Marina, they also catch tuna and salmon -yum! NZ looked like a little toy town of Noddy blocks, taking up hardly any space at all in the immense sea of pasture stretching as far as the eye can see - which in our case was 200km as we could make out Mt Buffalo to the East in the Victorian high country.
This, and the vast areas of uninhabited land we have driven through, made me think about a current political hot potato here - uninvited guests, or asylum seekers. A popular bumper sticker in rural Australia explains a common sentiment thus: “F**k off, we’re Full”.
The way they are spoken about would make a visitor think they are arriving by the thousands, ready to turf unsuspecting little Aussie battlers out of home and job, sucking up scarce water supplies and challenging the very right to existence of all the Australian families who have...erm...come here from other countries.
At least it gives us another topic of happy hour conversation as we start our journey north along the Grey Nomad routes. Just met a nice Aussie couple? Need something to chat about? Try these three no-fail conversation/fire starters:
1. Aboriginals - disenfranchised
Hello Mr Lizard
A friendly (or lazy) blue tongue lizard in Lincoln National Park true owners of the land or lazy, filthy drunks?
2. Climate change - invented by Peter Garrett as the only reason to keep him in parliament, the fault of farmers, the fault of mining, or inevitable Armageddon?
3. Asylum seekers - political refugees, potential ethnic restaurateurs or terrorists?
Ahhhh - Happy Hour!
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