Category: Road Trip to Adelaide

TUESDAY 15 DECEMBER

Di likens the caravan park in Griffith as a gaol. It is surrounded by a very large, and I mean very high, concrete wall. No apparent sentry tower but you never know with these inhabitants. We are not sorry to leave this place. Indeed so keen was Garry that he drove their van down the one way street. The wrong way. It was still in the park, and if there is a hidden sentry tower, and if it is manned, then they clearly missed it. Rolling something, or dealing in something I expect.

As we depart Griffith we see the best view of the city. Through the rear view mirror.

Making our way to Cowra we pass through many small towns. Through Yenda, throug Barellan, birthplace of Evonne Goolagong. Not a tennis court in sight. Through Moombooldool. The name is bigger than the town. Through Ardlethan, and past the turn off to somewhere called Ariah Park, which proudly boasts on it’s sign to be “The Home of Bowsers, Wowsers and the Peppercorn Tree”. Go figure. We didn’t bother. We travelled on to Young, in search of cherries, the fruit, not the girlfriend, she was already with us. Not a single sign for cherries, but we did have our picnic lunch in the beautiful Chinese Tribute Gardens.

You will have noted that the sky was ominent but we were lucky and dodged the rain. Here’s a photo of three of the happy travelling quartet in the Chinese Gardens

Before leaving Young we had to make a quick detour to check on business

Having corrected the spelling, we moved on. We like to keep off the main highways, at least one of the navigators does, and so I navigated us up some curious back streets, some even unsealed. But what did we find on our off road journey? Cherries. We purchased a big bag full and continued on our way to Cowra. Eventually the highway presented itself and we arrived in Cowra in time to visit the beautiful Japanese Gardens. An Oriental kind of day you might say.

These gardens are just gorgeous. So manicured, so serene.

Garry was having back trouble and I was having ankle trouble, so we chose the golf cart self drive tour. Cherrie, Di, Sam and Bolly walked.

We saw fish, birds and ducks. Lots of them.

Can you spot the baby ducks on the rock? Look harder. I strongly urge you to squint as you do so.

The squinting may have put you out of focus a bit but I’m hoping you saw all these little cuties.

Garry had not driven a golf cart before and just between you and me it might be best if he doesn’t again. But we made it unscathed and arrived at our Caravan Park shortly after 5pm. This is our last for this trip and is a nice park on the Lachlan River. The only thing between us and the river is a 12 foot high steel fence.

Curry dinner and a few rounds of Rummikub to round off our last night on tour.

WEDNESDAY 16 DECEMBER

We’re heading home. Drive through the lovely town of Boorowa, stopping at Yass for coffee, where Cherrie briefly meets up with a friend. Lunch at Exeter, then down the hill to Kangaroo Valley.

Along Wattamolla Rd we are met by the Holstein family

We toot farewell to the Maccas at the junction of Wattamolla and Woodhill Mountain Roads. They turn left, we turn right. We get home in time to unload the van, do an idiot check (as stage managers say when the bump out is complete), which reveals that the idiots left a few things on board. But, the van is now in the condition in which we picked it up. Except for our passenger. She loved it so much she refused to leave the van. She wanted just one more night in it.

We fed her on board, and then coaxed her into the house. Where she promptly made herself at home on our bed. Nothing changes.

Our grey nomad tour has been wonderful. We have laughed a lot, we ate well, we drank a little, we discovered places we loved and those we didn’t. And, above all, our friendship is in tact. We are already starting to plan the next one.

The only sour note is some feedback I have received from some of my readers. There seems to be disappointment at the lack of misadventure. No flat tyres, no fractured bones, no robberies, no inaccessible furniture. Generally it was a pretty mundane trip for a blogger. For that I do not apologise.

Until next time….stay safe.

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.