Category: 2Cs Not OverCs

SATURDAY 12 DECEMBER

This morning we stroll around the farmers markets. We are all really taken by Mildura and its vibrant community. The markets have plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables and some of the growers see really well in the dark

Di and Garry bought a few provisions and then we went off to coffee. We drove around a bit looking for the Italian patisserie we found on the net. The navigation lass got a bit confused, but finally we found it. In an industrial estate. Closed. No coffee machine visible anyway. So we went elsewhere. After tossing that coffee out, we proceeded to the butcher. Not just any butcher, but Wagners, the best butcher in town. Garry went in, leaving the rest of us in the air conditioned comfort of the McDonald van (fondly known as Gran’s Torino, with no apology evident to Clint Eastwood)

Returning triumphant from the counter of Wagners, Garry had clearly seen what heaven might be like. We now have dinner for tonight, and tomorrow, sorted. Back to the caravan park by the river, in the shade of the magnificent river red gums, to put provisions in fridge. And then we pile back into the van and cross the border to Wentworth, where the Murray and Darling Rivers meet.

In April this year the Darling fed into the Murray for the first time in two years. It had been dry until then. These two majestic rivers, so neglected by our governments, are the 4th largest river systems in the world. Awe inspiring really. We drive around the little town and Garry reads about the self guided tour of Aboriginal artefacts and sites. So off we head. Not quite as inspirational as we had hoped

Once we heard the duelling banjos, we departed the scene and headed back to our favourite town so far, Mildura. The home of the houseboat. That’s another holiday. It’s hot, so we return to the caravan park, armed with some wine we have picked up in a great bottle shop in town, and have a swim in the mighty Murray. Now that’s a first for us all. There is a real beach on the banks of the river here, right in our caravan park.

It’s even patrolled by life savers

The perfect way to cool off, and the water is as clean as the water of a brown river can be expected to be. The rest of the evening was spent relaxing over some wine, before the first of two big dinners. Tonight, a simple meal of fresh cooked yabbies

And a light main of goat and asparagus sausages and Italian sausages (hence the title of this blog). Oh, plus some of the local produce acquired this morning. And perhaps a glass or two of local wine. I don’t remember.

A round or two of Rummikub before bed. A wonderful day.

THURSDAY 10 DECEMBER

Last night, after our (best to be forgotten) lunch, and after being driven back to the caravan park, we thanked our designated driver by taking him, and his girlfriend , for a long(ish) walk. We had another meal of biscuits and cheese and played some more Rummikub. We thought we might finish the luncheon wine, (the one Margaret tried with a mouth full of toothpaste), but that proved not to be. Only one thing for it

And then there was none

Quite right too. But, there is a Bacchus. A David Franz Semillion and a Phil Lehmann Cabernet Sauvignon. Yum.

So, today we leave Clare, but not before a cup of coffee in the town. Another lovely SA wine valley, but the town is not nearly as nice as Tanunda. Or Angaston. Or Nuriootpa.

We are heading to Renmark, but we are taking our time today. First, a stop at a lovely town called Burra, which in 1850 was the largest mine in Australia and produced 5% of the world’s copper.

This is a lovely town. We visit the art gallery, just to show our blog followers that we are cultured folk

We are introduced to the exhibition by Kym, one of the volunteers. Kym is a local. He is intriguing. He has curly grey hair, artistically styled. He wears a three piece suit, a Prince of Wales check in pink and mauve tones, and a floral shirt. His two earrings are gold loops and each finger is adorned with a rather large ring. He is very knowledgeable about the local area, less so about the artworks. But his charm forgives all.

We have coffee, sitting outside, as always, with the dogs. Garry spies the water dish, and remarks that it’s water and low fat water

We walk around town and look in some lovely shops. Once again, Garry is droll. “This is what happens when you leave the clothes in the dryer too long” he says

We leave Burra, and drive through salt bush country.

The nearby highway says it all really

Hitting pretty country, we stop by the mighty Murray once again for our traditional picnic lunch.

It’s such a beautiful river, and they care for their trees here.

But, they are glorious trees, and every one is numbered.

After lunch, as we continue our drive to Renmark, we enter Sunraysia country. Vines, fruit and nut trees as far as the eye can see

But first, we hit another quarantine bin, where we work really hard to consume everything we can. We are baby boomers after all, and nothing must go to waist. As my waistline attests.

I have been discrete up until now about Garry’s habit of boasting about his composting toilet. He will, and does, talk to anyone who will listen. In fact, even if they don’t listen, he brags. Here we are at a quarantine station, with a Englishman and a Frenchwoman. Like they care…..

Before Renmark, we pass through the town where all our missing mail goes.

Hence the title of this blog…I, (k)no(w) (wh)y

Arriving at the caravan park in Renmark, we find grass, not bitumen. We are right on the river, space around us, ducks galore.

Ah, this is what a road trip in a campervan is all about.

Tonight, after dinner we play 500. Lots of fun, but then the light goes so another early night. Ah, this is what camping is all about.

FRIDAY 11 DECEMBER

After a late start, 9am, we take the dogs for an off leash run at the far end of this lovely caravan park.

Mmm, thanks Mums. And Dad.

We have read about the Renmark Rose Garden and so off we head. Without any navigation challenges we find the rose garden. I beg your pardon, I never promised you ……It’s hopeless. Back in the van for…what do you think? Morning coffee. Garry has found two choices for excellent coffee. The first is on an industrial estate, with no outdoor tables (for the dogs) and looks like the home of Caterers Blend. We choose the second option. The bakery. Coffee was ok, just ok, but the highlight was the pile drivers across the road. Relentless. Garry thought the Sydney Festival should book them. Philip Glass, eat your heart out.

Subsequently, a lovely drive through lush country and into a surprisingly (for me) the gorgeous city of Mildura. What a pleasure to be here. At the caravan park, again by the river, Di cooks up bacon and eggs, poached no less, for lunch. Ah, this is the camping life.

A drive around town lead us to Lock 11.

Which, of course, reminded us all of our own Le Boat trip in France some years ago, with Captain McDonald at the wheel. Today it is 4pm, and as luck would have it, the paddle steamers (sans paddle and with diesel) arrived, for the loch (please note spelling. I believe that loch is more correct than lock, but you, dear reader, will correct me no doubt).

Now, those of you who have been followers of this blog for years, may remember that we traversed the Canal Midi some years ago, and had to pass through 7 lochs in 7 hours (or was that wives for brothers?). Anyway, with the Captn at the wheel, the crew of Di, Cherrie and myself became quite adept at this loch stuff. The gloves, the ropes, the jumping back on board etc. Sort of unforgettable really. Anyway, today we stand and watch these boozed up youths have their go, under the direction of the lock master (we, in France, had no such luxury).

Going

Going

The two hangers on, as is so often the case, got through first

At the loch(k) Garry found a fisherman. They talked fish. And

And composting toilets.

Back at the caravan park, we shower and frock up. Metaphorically speaking. And we dine out, at Stefano’s. A little over two years after our original booking, en route to Perth. That trip that concluded, unexpectedly, in Swan Hill. But, here we are two years later at Stefano’s Restaurant in Mildura. Excellent service, fabulous wines (all local, an Anais and a Montepelluciano, under the Stefano label) and really very good food. Not special, perhaps not worth driving 2000kms for, but gosh, we’ve had worse. It was a 5 course degustation menu, chosen by the chefs, which suited us fine. Good tucker really, but the fish course, a Murray Cod, was a bit light on. And it was the dessert course that we feel let us down. Two tiramisu, two lemon ice cream with pistachio granita. The ice cream won hands down. But, frankly, the very accomplished culinary Macca’s could have bettered either.

SUNDAY 6 DECEMBER

After a wonderful night of dinner, theatre and friends last night, we leave the bitumen of the Adelaide caravan park and head north. It’s raining and cool. We return the rental car, have an unspectacular coffee and head for the Barossa Valley, to spend two nights in the glorious home of Margaret Lehmann. The Lehmann’s and the Dunstan’s have been friends for many years and it is always a joy to spend time with Marg, especially on her home turf. For lunch we are joined by her two sons, David and Phil, two of Dave’s kids Ben and Alex and Phil’s son Lewis. Covid restrictions have prevented the wives and the rest of the kids coming. Lunch at Chez Lehmann is always a jolly affair and, perhaps unsurprisingly, always accompanied by excellent wines, and plenty of them. Both Phil and Dave are wine makers and produce their own wines under their own labels (Max & Me and David Franz). Today we drink Phil’s 2018 and 2020 delicious Rieslings, and plenty more reds to boot. It’s a marathon, which I won. My fellow travelling companions retired for an afternoon sleep after the family had left, but I was not deterred. So much good wine must not go to waste. I even outdrank the Baroness of the Barossa. Now there’s reason for pride. A light evening meal and so to bed.

MONDAY 7 DECEMBER

Margaret, as tour guide, drives us on a tour of the Valley this morning. Well, that was the intention, but she seemed to prefer that we explore the main street of Tanunda and meet a few of her many friends, who happened to be walking down the road or in the shops or at work. Visitor Centre, Post Office, Supermarket, Clothes Shop etc. Eventually we climb back into her car and make it as far as Menglers Hill Lookout, which gives a pretty fab view of the beautiful Barossa Valley

Marg and Di talk secret women’s business

Gaz reads up on the history

And dear Cherrie keeps us all happy

So, now the tour is complete we take Margaret to lunch, but she has to drive us. Delicious food, delectable wines and excellent service at Vintners. Highly recommended. As we turn into the driveway to Marg’s house, she spots Mal, who works for her around the grounds, and who is a great fan of Garry. I think he is Costa’s nephew

It’s so cold by now that Marg lights a fire

And Sam and Bolly keep warm by chasing each other in her beautiful garden.

A quick trip up the road to the David Franz Tasting Room, which is very special. And, who’d a thought it, we embark on, and a bit of a tasting. It’s just as well that Dave sells liver pate, amongst other home made small goods, from the cellar door for my own liver needs all the help it can get. We walk the short distance home through the vineyards. The promise of a good harvest is encouraging

Back at the ranch,

And swearing that we’ll never eat or drink again, we retire for a short nap. Then we return to the kitchen. To continue to eat and drink. Garry has discovered that the fridge in his van is not working, which is cause for major concern. So we drink some more and ponder his problem.

TUESDAY 8 DECEMBER

Over an alcohol free breakfast, the magpies make their regular visit to Margaret‘s kitchen window

She feeds them, as she feeds us, with top quality tucker

We get away around 10am. Here we are in the van, about to take off

Ice from Angaston for Garry’s no longer working fridge, and the slow and very scenic route up to the Clare Valley.

We check into the Caravan Park. Garry finds us a nice spot

And it’s here that we park. It is the only bit of grass in the entire park. Curious that SA caravan parks seem to specialise in bitumen and gravel. This curiosity has given even the shrubs a toothache

But the weather station gives us an accurate forecast

Having set up camp we settle into relaxation, trailer style, and don’t move for the rest of the day. Garry even introduces me to the joys (or not) of cryptic crosswords. He is very patient. I not so.

We eventually rustle up the energy to consume some biscuits and cheese for dinner. We decide to have a game of Rummikub. Cherrie retrieves it from the van, where storage is perhaps a bit of a challenge.

Tenacious as ever, she is victorious.

We have a lovely evening, thrashing each other at this game which ‘brings people together’. A superb Max & Me Cabernet Sauvignon, and a 2020 Max & Me Riesling, kindly donated by the winemaker, assists with the jollity.

WEDNESDAY 9 DECEMBER

During a leisurely morning we do the washing.

We, trailer trash?

We drive, in Garry’s van without a working fridge, to Clare township to stock up on provisions and return to our slice of grass by the crumbling banks. Garry spends some time on the phone to his campervan guru who advises him how to fix the problem, and voila, fixed. It’s a loose connection at the back of the fridge and he and Di unscrew the fixtures, remove the fridge, apply the ever reliable Gaffa tape, and return the fridge to it’s home. Cold beer tonight.

We drive to Pikes Winery and Brewery where Garry buys his supplies for this evening, and then on to Paulett’s Winery for lunch. Recommended by both Margaret and the Tourist Information Centre. We have a wine tasting at the luncheon table before ordering, so as to inform us what to drink with our meal.

I suspect it’s been a while since Margaret tasted the wines here, and my suspicions run to a conspiracy theory about the woman at the Information Centre. The wine is not to our taste at all. None of it. But, not to be deterred, we are veterans and choose the least horrible of the lot. And order a whole bottle. We also choose the ‘long lunch’ of 3 courses of chef’s choice. Our conspiracy theory is vindicated. The food receives the same review as the wine. But, the outlook is beautiful and we have actually eaten enough over the past 4 days so as not to need to do so again for another 4 days. I doubt that will influence us though. Anticipating a boozy lunch, we have arranged a designated driver

Bolly is too young to drive. And, we still have half a bottle of the wine left.

THURSDAY 3 DECEMBER (cont)

I mentioned in my last blog that we had taken the car ferry over to Wellington in SA. However I neglected to show you the photo of the ferry, and I know how disappointed you were about this.

I was under some time pressure to post the blog, so here’s the information you missed out on. We checked into the Wellington Caravan Park. Scotty checked us into a prime spot, right under the communal clothes lines, which were right next to the toilets. When I questioned if there might be another spot, he pointed us to the bitumen, and then even offered us a third spot which was on synthetic grass. Garry advised me, with some discretion, that synthetic grass is a much hotter surface than real grass, even that next to the toilets. So we stayed put. Strolled over to the new pub, part of the same caravan park, and ordered gins and tonic for the girls and a beer for the fella. Friendly sort of place, clearly stocked for the locals

Returned to the campsite for the prime Mallee lamb and an early night, as previously reported.

FRIDAY 4 DECEMBER 2020

This morning we head into Adelaide, but not before Di takes an ablution (as opposed to abolition) break, which block you will recall is very closely positioned to our vans. As she exits the cubicle a man is standing there. “Am I in the gents?” She asks. “Yes” replies her husband. And she was. At least she didn’t shower.

Garry and Di go to Adelaide via Talem Bend, while Cherrie and I take the direct route. We have booked a rental car to run around in while we are in Adelaide, so as not to have to navigate either of the vans around the city, let alone find a parking space for them. We all meet up at the Windsor Park Caravan Park. A picture of bitumen. But it’s not all bitumen, there is plenty of gravel too. And bugger all space between vehicles

But, mercifully, there’s lots to do in Adelaide, so we’ll only be here to sleep. We park our rental car next to the vans

In the ladies section for us.

And head into town, where we enjoy a Salad Nicoise each. We drop Di and Garry at the Central Markets and Cherrie and I head to the tile shop, which we believe has the tiles we want for our exterior terraces in our grand design. Indeed they do, and we are very happy with our choice. Back to the markets in the city to collect the Maccas, who have purchased all sorts of goodies to take to a friend tonight who has kindly invited us to dinner. Dogs too. It is stinking hot today. Unbearably so. When we return to the vans mid afternoon, it is 46 degrees inside our van. The van is air conditioned, but the AC couldn’t cope with this, and gave up the ghost. There’s nothing for it but a cold shower. In the ladies section for us. It doesn’t help much, because the oppressive heat is overwhelming. Somehow we make it to 6.30pm when we head off to dinner, in a mercifully air conditioned unit.

Lovely dinner, lovely food, dogs happy, humans cool. Still hot outside though, when we depart at midnight. But we’ve left the one opening window in the van, the only one with insect netting, open and we open all doors when we get back for a while. We get some sleep and awake to a much cooler day. No communal breakfast here, too much bitumen, too much gravel, no grass and too many people. The Maccas eat in their van and we eat in ours. Cherrie has, cleverly, learned how to erect the table for two and to swivel the drivers seat around. Luxury. Not. The man in the next door van, and his bird, are happier that it’s cooled down today

We have a leisurely morning, we are all tired, and then head to North Adelaide for brunch. We find a nice place where the dogs are welcome in the courtyard. Blustery winds, rather cool, are an incredible contrast to yesterday. A post brunch walk in the park with Sam and Bolly, and an afternoon rest revives us enough to undertake the whole reason for this trip. A night in the theatre. But first we drop the dogs at the home of our friend which whom we had dinner last night. She has kindly offered to dog sit, an invitation we are most grateful for, given yesterday’s heat. We are heading to the Dunstan Playhouse at the Adelaide Festival Theatre (I am always gratified that they named this lovely 500 seat theatre after me) to see our dear friend Nancye Hayes in a play called RIPCORD. But it wouldn’t be a holiday with the McDonald’s if first we didn’t eat. A lovely meal at Parliamento’s, where we are joined by Nancye’s husband, the great saxophonist Bob Bertles. The play is terrific, lots of laughs and a few poignant moments too. We all enjoy the evening very much, topped off by a drink with Nancye, Bob and director Mitchell Butel, post show. At midnight we collect the dogs and tuck ourselves into our respective vans. Tomorrow the Barossa Valley.