Forgive us for we have Zinned
Trip Start
Nov 08, 2003
1
34
74
Trip End
Oct 22, 2004
Adelaide,
Australia
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
After Victoria's grey London-like days we were loving South Australia's Meditteranean climate as we set off once more under a perfect blue sky. The nights in the van were chilly to say the least but the following warm days more than made up for it.
We left Encounter Bay (so named after a famous meeting between an English navigator and a French explorer) and made our way through country lanes to the end of the Fleurieu Peninsula (so named after a French traveller) under the expert driving skills of Sophie (so named because it sounded exotic in 1960s Yorkshire). At the tip of the peninsula at Cape Jervis we stopped for an impressive view of Kangaroo Island before hurtling back inland towards Adelaide with the smell of fermenting grapes in our nostrils for a whirlwind tasting tour of McLaren Vale's wineries
Dr Evil plots the downfall of Australia
.McLaren Vale was a really nice town, fruity on the palate with undertones of tobacco and compost, and a town where we could have happily lived (and there haven't been many in Oz), although being surrounded by fifty-odd vineyards may have swayed our judgment.
We pulled up outside the Tatachilla vineyard and crashed through the doors for a couple of slugs of their juicy reds before nipping around the corner to the Rosemount Estate for a slurp of their fiesty 2003 vintage Sangiovese which we duly bought a bottle of.
Back in town we stopped off at the Blessed Cheese deli for a spot of stomach lining and a delicious $25 plate of local produce that put to shame a Ploughman's Lunch. We then sampled the local bottle shop and after slooshing around the rows of robust reds we emerged with a bottle of Zinfandel (our fave) and armed with information on the whereabouts of the only vineyard in the area that grows the Zinfandel grape more commonly associated with the Napa Valley (ooooooooh . . . and you all thought I was a lager-guzzling philistine).
The Kangarilla Road winery was on our way out of town so we stopped by to sample our newly bought Zin (on first name terms)
Inside Nirvana
. We were welcomed by a Canadian sommelier who lined the bar with their full collection of reds and whites and one by one we knocked them back until Soph began to waver. We left with a bottle of their cabernet sauvignon in our hands and close to another in our stomachs.In our tasting frenzy we'd lost track of time and with another 200km to go before our overnight stopover we sped off under the influence (only joking Brandon) towards the Murray River region skirting Adelaide via the town of Hahndorf before heading east along the South Eastern Freeway to Murray Bridge and onwards to Loxton along eerily quiet roads with dusk fast approaching with the threat of wandering roos.
We arrived at Loxton caravan park just after sunset to the sight of a closed reception and boom gate but after a phonecall to the owner we were let in for the night. We shared a barbie that night with a silver-haired fella who told us about the growing band of retired Aussies who sell or rent out their houses to buy a 4WD and caravan to tour the country, collectively known as 'The Grey Army'. The poor guy was from Geelong, no wonder he was travelling.
12/5
Radio reports informed us we were in for our last sunny day for a while, but what better way to spend your last breathing day let alone the last sunny day than by a visit to Nuriootpa and the Wolf Blass winery.
Sydney opera house? Pah
mmmmmmm, I'm getting plum with underlying grass
. Ayers Rock? Phooey.
The Great Barrier Reef? Baloney.
This was what Australia was all about for us, and it was a moment we'd dreamt about huddled in front of our fake open fire during cold winter evenings in London town. The moment was nearly upon us to visit our Holy Grail for an hour of vino veritas and after a two-hour drive along the Sturt Highway we pulled into the winery where next door a state-of-the-art museum was being constructed. The tasting room was wood-panelled and lined with vintage bottles and as we sidled up to the counter a giant photo of Wolf Blass' beaming face looked down upon us.
We hit the bottle for the second day running working our way through the cheaper bottles then handing over $10 to taste the premium wines priced between $40 and $150 a bottle. To our untrained taste buds there wasn't a lot of difference between the $10 and $150 bottles and our first prize went to a $22 bottle of cab sauv. We finished with a ten year old tawny port and a complete knowledge of the history of their different coloured labels
Outside Nirvana
. We then negotiated the mile or so to Nuriootpa's caravan park and bedded down for the night with a bottle of McLaren Vale wine and another Atkin's Diet of a barbie.
13/5
For once the weather forecast was correct as we woke to a drizzly morning which called for a fried egg breakfast, and as we set off for the short trip into Adelaide the weather brightened and it wasn't long before we were pootling along the city's surprisingly traffic-free figure of eight ring road looking for the eastern suburb of Hackney (rings a bell) and our digs for the coming couple of nights. After missing the site on the first drive-by we found it on the second and secured a spot for the trusty Toyota.
Soph was happy enough after our visit to Wino heaven the day before but when she noticed the portable TVs for hire behind the counter her elation went to another level. For $7 a night Soph could set aside her romantic novels (at least that's what she tells me they are) for a couple of nights in front of the box
Rainforest glass house in the botanical gardens
. It could have been the al-Jazeera channel with a cabaret of blindfolded hostages for all she cared, as long as it was moving images on a trinitron screen that's all that mattered.We only had two days in Adelaide to see if it could mix it with the big boys up the coast so we immediately strode out into its tree-lined streets, and to get into the core we had to walk through its shell of parks and green spaces with the botanical gardens on our left and the zoo on our right as it's impossible to enter the city without having to traipse through an undergrowth of some sort.
We found ourselves in Rundle Street for a tour of Adelaide's shops and restaurants and had an Italian lunch in Scoozi opposite the Red Sea restaurant, scene of our favourite reality TV show where we ate pizzas while staking out the comings and goings of the diners and TV crew opposite.
After we'd seen enough we walked through a commendable botanical gardens and into a very modern looking building on the edge of the park. It was the National Wine Centre of Australia and as it had 'wine' in its title we paid it a visit. The centre was just a few years old and covered everything about Aussie plonk with 'sniff' boxes to identify different grapes, old grape-crushing machinery, the history of wine-making, a massive wall of original labels and talking holograms of famous Aussie wine-makers
Rundle Street, Adelaide
. It was all well presented but slightly let down by the wine-tasting section not being open.On the way home we walked via the International Rose Garden where we admired one of 5,000 different roses and in particular one named after Cliff Richard and then by the Bicentennial Conservatory, a colossal ultra-modern clam-shaped glass building containing a complete tropical rainforest. And once home the bottle of Zinfandel and the latest from the Big Brother house capped the day off perfectly.
14/5
After a plateful of fried eggs and an eyeful of our favourite Aussie, Bert Newton, we hit Adelaide with a vengeance, stopping on the way to feed the ducks in the botanical gardens. Serious sightseeing was to be had today starting with a trip to the Art Gallery of South Australia for a sideways look at good classic art and contemporary tat before heading next door to the South Australian Museum for a mish-mash collection of Aboriginal works and stuffed animals. Both museums were just about OK and thankfully free of charge.
Soph outside Wolf Blass looking very excited
We then speed-walked into the north of the city along King William Street past the Festival Centre and the self-proclaimed 'prettiest test cricket ground in the world', the Adelaide Oval, complete with a statue of Don Bradman in cover drive mode. At this point we were tracing Bill Bryson's footsteps from his book 'Down Under' as we passed St Peter's Cathedral and into O'Connell Street's rows of shops and restaurants. At Archer Street we turned left and made our way into Wellington Square and to the Welly Hotel where Bryson had sat down in a dark corner for the afternoon reading his newly purchased books on Australia's numerous dangerous creatures. I ordered a pint of Coopers just as Bryson had while the brunette stuck to white wine. It was virtual stalking albeit a couple of years later.
We had a chat with the barmaid and after telling her of our travel plans informed us that the Northern Territory was a real 'eye-opener' complete with charade style widening of the eyelids with her fingers. We read this as a semi-racist slur towards the Aborigines who own half the land in the top end and aren't seen in the best of light by a lot of white Australians. But it all boils down to the fact that Aborigines are the indigenous people and were on this island 40,000 years before the influx of immigrants from the UK! 200 years on and Aussies are still learning to live with it
Sure beats a Ploughman's Lunch
.Little bit of politics, little bit of politics.
Anyway, the day had hurtled by and we still had a bit of a trek to complete through yet another park beside the River Torrens that led back to the site. After bangers and mash we settled down to a night of reality TV, Aussie Rules Footy and live coverage of the wedding of the century as Crown Prince Freddie von Furstenburgelschlingerhausenhausenhausen of Denmark married local Aussie girl Mary Donaldson who in true fairy tale fashion had met her Prince Charming during a drunken night of debauched depravity in a sleazy Sydney bar during the Olympics. How romantic.
What we had seen of it, Adelaide had been a nice enough city, although nothing to write home about (hang on, I am writing home). Once again it seemed a very liveable city with a small town atmosphere complete with an enormous village green on every corner. As a tourist it didn't have the big town buzz of its two older brothers up the coast but the locals seemed happy and probably wouldn't want it any other way.
Tomorrow we'd catch a three hour flight to Perth by way of a couple of cheap Virgin Blue tickets thus avoiding a 46,000 mile road trip across the terrifyingly plain Nullarbor Plain. Wild Western Australia here we come . . .
Oz & Jilly
xx
