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2 Perfect Days in the Hunter Valley

February 2, 2019 by Fran Leave a Comment

Day 1

Taking my freshly brewed coffee, I went and sat outside on the deck. The early mist was rising over the low mountain range, and the birds were deep in conversation. Strong wafts of eucalyptus were mingling with my coffee aromas. The very vocal kookaburras all seemed to find everything hilarious as the two grazing kangaroos took off into the distance.

Goosewing Cottage, Mount View, Hunter Valley.

This is why I come to the Hunter as often as I do. And is why I love it so much. The peace. The serenity. The complete removal of all the audible sensory overload I get living in the city. Each morning in the valley starts this way. Up early. Slowly sip the first coffee of the day, just sitting, and watching. And I breathe intentionally. Slow breath in. Hold it. Slow exhale. Hold it. And repeat. Something so simple, and so effective, keeping me in the moment. I am only 2 hours from home, and yet at Goosewing Cottage I could be a world away.

Not owning a car, having one for the weekend, on quiet roads, with no traffic lights, is a pleasure. The Hunter is a large place, made up of a few small towns, and without a car it would be difficult to get around. First stop this morning was the Sabor Dessert bar in Pokolbin. As we weren’t hungry, really not hungry, I thought we were just getting drinks. Imagine my surprise when a tasting plate of 6 cheesecakes was brought to our table. Well, now that they are in front of me, it would be rude not to try some. At least it would be a little lining in my stomach, as our next stop was a number (quite a high number) of vineyards. As you would expect from someone who has a burger spreadsheet, I also have one documenting all the wineries we have visited around the world. A quick check had me planning out the route for the day, ensuring we sampled some new wines, from some new wineries.

Following trips to Pepper Tree, Constable Estate, and Mount View, we finished up at Briar Ridge. It was here that we had a voucher to “be a member for a day”, meaning we got a private tasting, 20% off any wines we bought, and a half price antipasto platter. One of the conversations we had on the way up from the city was to not buy too many wines. The problem with this? It’s a very vague objective. I don’t do well with vague. How many is too many? By the end of the day we were up to around 24 bottles. You be the judge.

Yes people, I present lamb’s brains to you.

Brains. Let’s get straight into this. Specifically, lambs brains. You ever had them? Ever wanted them? Yeah, me either. Yet this is what I chose as my entree at dinner that evening. Bistro Molines specialises in French food, done with a Gallic flair. Enter the brains. Deep fried, basking in a river of garlic butter, and served with a sharp caper salad cutting through. I am always wanting to try new experiences, and push myself in all aspects of my life. This was a great opportunity to push my culinary boundaries. And what I had read turned out to be true. Quite a squishy consistency. Tofu like. And quite large portions. Perhaps I shouldn’t have kept cutting them in half, whereby they actually looked like brains. This only reminded me what it was that I was chewing. Yes, chewing. Was I eating the thoughts of the lamb? It’s memories? Good lord, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

Following a glass of local sparkling wine, erroneously called prosecco (since 2010 Prosecco is no longer the name of the grape, which is now called glera, but is geographical indication, in much the same way as Champagne) , we moved onto the main wine of the evening. The Majella Cabernet Sauvignon was an excellent choice and went terribly well with the whole meal. Not wishing to join me with the brains entree, Victoria chose linguine with pippies, not puppies as my autocorrect suggested, which was excellent. The puppies would have been one up, or would that have been down, from the lambs brains.

The evening at Molines was excellent, and somewhere I would highly recommend. Sweeping views out over the vines. Watching the day slowly morph into night. Multiple shades of green becoming a singular black. The service and the food is what you would expect from a restaurant that has had a chefs hat since 2010. We will definitely return, but I think I’ve had my fill of offal.

Day 2

Driving around the Hunter, visiting vineyards, we don’t get much exercise, let alone get anywhere near the daily target of 10000 steps. For this reason we took another early morning stroll around the gorgeous Mount View area. Sweeping fields of grazing cattle. Nervous kangaroos always on high alert. And this morning, a slate grey, very squat, very muscular, Staffordshire Bull terrier charging down the road at me. This raised the heart rate.
The heat was taken out of the situation when the owner shouted “he will kill you with kindness”. It turns out he just wanted to play. So we did. Our walk was only about 4kms, but enough to work up our appetites for breakfast.

Deciding to eat out for breakfast, for maybe the first time in the Hunter, we headed to Cafe Enzo at Peppers Creek which we had read good things about. Taking the last available table in the courtyard, sheltering from the blazing sun under a large parasol, we had a wonderful breakfast of free range scrambled eggs on perfect sour dough toast. Just the right amount of saltiness in the crust. The coffee was outstanding, and I followed up my double shot latte with a piccolo.

Quite remarkably, the heat continued to rise making even just walking tough. So we chose to stay in the car a while, driving around the Hunter, making a plan for later in the day. Following a stop for extra bottles of water at the general store in Pokolbin Village, we headed on to our first tasting of the day. Leogate was another new vineyard, but much the same story at all the others. Great wines.

Equally good tastings followed at Piggs Peake, Tintilla, and Mistletoe Wines on Hermitage Road, with us concluding our day at Mount Pleasant. We had planned to cycle around these vineyards, an activity that we usually see lots of people enjoying. For some reason, we hadn’t seen anybody “enjoying” it today. This was because at 42° you would have to be a masochist to want to pedal anywhere. So we decided to call off the planned ride. The easiest decision of the day.

The evening was spent avoiding offal. We had our traditional BBQ of easy to recognise meats, complemented by some of the excellent wine we had bought. How many bottles were we up to now? Was anybody counting? Let’s just say that we won’t be running out any time soon.

Sat, late into the evening, with a nightcap of Sullivan’s Cover single malt, from Tasmania, I was left reflecting on another excellent weekend, in the glorious Hunter Valley.

Having a retrospective on 2018

January 20, 2019 by Fran Leave a Comment

In keeping with something I try and do each year, I am again reflecting on the year that just passed. And in the spirit of how I have been working in my professional life for much of 2018, I am doing it in the form of a retrospective.

A key event in Scrum* (the office based type, not outdoors on a field type) is the retrospective (retro). Done frequently, giving you and the team the opportunity to look back, to inspect and adapt, reflecting on what went well, and where you think you can improve in the next period. In practice, you should be having a retro at least fortnightly, not yearly, but you get the idea.

When I look back on last year’s post, I had a successful 2017. Areas for improvement in 2018 would have included doing my first yoga class (spoiler: it didn’t happen this year either), and doing more writing, which I am not totally happy with. By this I mean I would like to have done a lot more. And not just blogs, but more travel writing, and more fiction. Also building on my memoir experiment. A constant work in progress.

But, the overarching goal for every year that I am able to, is to learn something new, go somewhere different, and do something that I haven’t done before. I also want to read as many books as is humanly possible. The people who connect with me through the excellent app “Goodreads” will have seen my very ambitious target for 2018 was 120 books. This was a moonshot. And aiming for this allowed me to read a total of 115 books. A great achievement. I have slightly lowered my goal this year to 100. If you have any “must read” recommendations, send them through to me. I will add them to my ever expanding “to be read (tbr) pile”.

As I probably mentioned last year, having a list of goals suits me better than making up “New Year resolutions”. I don’t want the start of the year to be when I suddenly decide to improve myself. I want this to be an ongoing, ever evolving journey. Here is what I wrote as my goals for 2018:

Do a surf lesson – outcome: Is there anything more quintessentially Australian, (other than hugging a koala bear, in your vest and flip flops, whilst cooking a prawn on the BBQ, chugging a coldie), than surfing? So many great ocean beaches. So much surf. And the romance of it all. Who hasn’t watched “Endless Summer”, or sang along to the Beach Boys, and not wanted to just get out there on their board? Well, as it turns out, me actually. I had thought this would be great, but on reflection, the reality of it does match the romance. I would be constantly falling off. I would be in danger of drowning in the swell. I would have salt water up my nose, and I would be choking. Have you even seen me trying to paddle board? ‘Nuff said.
Drop 4kgs – outcome: This didn’t happen. But, the positives I take is that I didn’t put 4kgs on. I have come to the realisation that I love the lifestyle that I have, balancing being a bon vivant, with being mindful of my diet and exercise. I don’t want to be Joe Wicks. I want to be a healthy version of me. And I’m winning. For now. It is a precarious balance, but as I leave 2018 the same weight as I entered it, then I must be doing something right.
Experience my first cold Xmas in 6 years – outcome: I am afraid this was another where the romance of it was driving my thought process. My heart ruling my head. I really did start the year thinking I would be ending it in Canada, wrapped up warm, enveloped in North Face clothing, but revelling in my first cold Xmas since 2011. However, planning the summer holidays, in the depths of a July winters day, I already knew that I would again be having an antipodean Xmas. Prawns, bbqs, and beaches (as per above, minus the koala hugging).
Increase my knowledge of wine – outcome: A success. Any casual observer of this blog, or anybody that knows me, will also know that I am a lover of good wine. Over the years my tastes have developed from drinking wine out of a box on long backpacking trips, to now being picky about exactly what region I want to drink my Cabernet from. A trip to Mudgee, NSW, in January kicked off the wine tasting year, and having the opportunity to taste wines in four completely new wine regions, in New Zealand, ended the year. I am still on my wine journey. I’ll never be a sommelier, but I do like to know my way around a wine list.
Visit somewhere new – outcome: I managed to maintain this tradition, with my first visit to the paradise that is Hamilton Island, off the coast of Queensland, in the Whitsunday Islands. I wrote about this trip in an earlier blog. And just the thought of it brings me out in a beaming smile. I will be back.

In summary, I signed off 2018 in the same way that I started it. Happy. Energised. Positive. Excited and enthusiastic for the challenges and adventures ahead. I know this year will continue in the same vein. It is the year I will need to find a new job, as my current contract is coming to an end. I have thoroughly enjoyed my 2+ years there, but I stick to my motto, “always leave the party whilst you are enjoying it the most.”

This year brings a significant birthday (not mine) to plan for and celebrate, which will be done searching out the “big 5” on safari, with some wine tasting thrown in. There is my first visit back in 2 years to the UK to see my mum. Oh, and my sisters. And all my other family and friends. Part of this trip will see me exploring places I haven’t yet seen. Will I win my fortune in Monte Carlo? Is Nice nice? How many Greek tavernas can i visit whilst in Santorini and Kos?

I will continue with my growth mindset, stretching myself personally, and professionally. On the personal front, doing more writing, even maybe entering a few short story competitions, or submitting a few travel articles. See if this takes me in any new directions. Do more meditation. It works. Trust me. And on the professional front, I will strive to become an even better coach, helping teams and organisations become their best selves.

You see, the possibilities are endless. I can’t wait to get started.

*Scrum – the latest and greatest in the world of software delivery. Move over PRINCE2, you are so passe. This is a job for Scrum, coupled with an “agile mindset”.

Glow worm kayak tour – New Zealand

January 7, 2019 by Fran Leave a Comment

There are times you find yourself in the middle of something and you think to yourself, now this is a situation I hadn’t planned for. This was one of those times. Kayaking, slowly, in the pitch black, in a torrential downpour, across a lake in Bethlehem. No, not Jerusalem, but a little suburb in the town of Tauranga, in the heart of the Bay of Plenty. Some 200 kms south of Auckland, on New Zealand’s north island. Quite an apt town though, as it was Christmas.

In the almost silence, only punctuated by the rhythmic rowing of the paddles, I thought, “what am I doing here, in the cold, at night, steering a 2 person sea kayak towards a very dark canyon?”

As it happens I was on a glow worm tour with Waimarino Kayak Tours. A tour that I would highly recommend. If you like being out in the heavy rain, in the dark, paddling across a lake into the unknown, hoping you don’t suffer the same fate as our lead guide, who discovered a spider crawling up his leg, which was entombed in his kayak.

Am I selling it to you? Are you on the website right now, booking? In all seriousness, you should be, because the whole experience was excellent.

Nineteen of us left the pick up point in a bus driven by one of the guides, Josh, whose hybrid accent told me he wasn’t a local. The phrase “going oot in a boot” gave it away for me. Originally hailing from Victoria Island in Canada, he is a long way from home, following a time honoured template. Travel. Meet girl. Fall in love. Stay. He is not the first, and he won’t be the last.

After a short 20 minute drive, up through the lush green hills surrounding Bethlehem, we were parked up, and on the shore of Lake McLaren. The first part of the tour was quaffing a selection of local wines and nibbling on delectable cheeses, and fresh fruits. The wines were very good, and from the Mills Reef winery, literally next door to where we were. We were soon joined on the shore of the lake by some very inquisitive ducks, hungrily eyeing up the selection of crackers we had.

I had planned to kayak in just my lightweight hoodie, thinking that as I wasn’t planning on tipping the kayak over then I wouldn’t be getting wet. Yeah, I know. Naive. How thankful was I that I was talked into making full use of the gear provided on the tour! The waterproof jacket and spray deck, that seals you into the kayak, were lifesavers. Between the spray from the paddles, and the deluge of rain, I would have been completely drenched without them.

As dusk turned to dark, we got fitted into our kayaks, told how the feet paddles worked the rudder, and were slid from the launch onto the lake. It couldn’t be easier. Left foot to go left. And right foot….well, you get the picture. That said, I am not sure the mother and daughter team did, watching them paddling around in manic circles. I think they may be confusing their left from right.

Once we were all in, and our guides were strategically placed around us in formation, we slowly made our way up to the canyon. Even on the way there, glancing at the trees around the lake, we could see the unmistakable sights of the glow worms, like a string of fairy lights festooning the trees. But this was nothing compared with what was to come.

Guided by only the red light on the back of the heads of the guides, and the constant tidbits of very useful information, we slowly paddled up the lake, and into the canyon. And what a sight greeted us. Hundreds, nay, thousands of little shimmering lights adorned the walls of the canyon. Across both sides, and seemingly everywhere. A moment to take in. As we all rested in our kayaks, and enjoyed the silence, but for the sounds of birds, and whatever other creatures were out there. This was why I was here.

The interesting thing is, glow worms don’t really exist. Not really. What we were seeing were fungus gnats (arachnocampa luminosa). Don’t sound quite as appealing do they? And so the tour companies rename them as glow worms, knowing that this would sell more tours. The fungus gnats are bioluminescent, which is the blue/green light you can see when it is dark. The brighter the light, the hungrier the glow worm, as this is what they use to attract prey. What you don’t see, thankfully in my opinion, is the sticky webs they create, and drop down like hanging mucus, to catch their food. Fascinatingly, the glow worms can even turn off their light to preserve energy, such as when there is too much light, or if they feel threatened.

As the glow worms are essentially the larval, or maggot stage of the fungus gnat fly, there is a natural lifecycle, which results, after a period of between 9 and 12 months in the fly hatching. The bad news for the fly is that it is born without a mouth, meaning it can not feed, and has a lifespan of only 4 days. The good news is that those 4 days are purely for mating, and producing eggs for the whole cycle to begin again.

In my awe, I had almost forgotten it was raining. That was until we exited the canyon, and had to make our way back to the kayak launch point. Getting a little wet was such a small price to pay to see such a natural wonder. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.

Hamilton Island – November 2018

November 25, 2018 by Fran Leave a Comment

As I sat sipping my complimentary champagne, in the reception of the Beach Club hotel, with sweeping views out to the infinity pool, and beyond to the sea, I was reminded how blessed I am. And everything I have to be grateful for.

Champagne at the Beach Club — Shouldn’t this be how every hotel greets you?

Met on arrival at Hamilton Island airport by the effervescent Beach Club staff, we were soon whisked off, in air-conditioned comfort, without even a thought for collecting our checked in bag. In fact, the next time we saw it was in our room. It got there before we did by some kind of island magic.

Having only 57 rooms, you may wonder how we managed to end up in room 211. Yeah, I’m not sure either. The Beach Club is split over two levels, and our room was upstairs, with a view that was simply breathtaking. Lulled to sleep, and gently woken in the morning, by the sound of waves lightly lapping the shore, which was almost within touching distance, this really was a slice of paradise.

Long being a fan of buying experiences over “things”, the holiday started in style. Lounge access, priority boarding, and some excellent Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon, so good I had to try a second glass, to complement our light lunch. Confirming that I had made the right decision in taking Qantas up on their offer to upgrade to business class for our flight from Sydney. It may seem rather extravagant for a flight of just over 2 hours, but this was a birthday celebration we weren’t going to forget.

Hamilton Island is located in the Great Barrier Reef, Queensland, just off the coast of Airlie Beach. Only a short hop by flight from Sydney, planes arrive at the small airport, the only commercial airport in the Whitsunday Islands. So small is the Island, that from landing, to being at your hotel is only a matter of minutes.

The whole island is owned by Bob Oatley and his family. More famous for making wine, the Oatley’s own and run the vast majority of the accommodation on the island, which is used almost exclusively for tourism. That said, it is becoming an increasingly attractive place for people to retire to, and I did browse the real estate windows, considering never returning to the big city. Anybody got a spare couple of million dollars?

As the island is on the Great Barrier reef, the snorkelling is great, even just walking in from the beach, which is what we did. Imagine our surprise when we suddenly came across a gargantuan sea turtle, swimming along, in the shallow depths. The coral here is not as vivid as what can be seen much further out, but for an afternoon, just splashing around, we saw enough to keep us transfixed.

And it is not just in the water that you get close up and personal with the wildlife. Early morning, and as dusk settles in, the wallabies come out to play. Grazing in, and around the hotel grounds, it is obvious the wallabies couldn’t care less about you, and just want to get on living their lives alongside their fellow islanders.

Should you want to get a little more active during your stay, try out one of the many bush trails. Of the whole island, only 25% is developed, leaving many, many kilometers of walking tracks, where you can find some amazing hidden bays. If you want to spoil a good walk, you could take your clubs across the water, to Dent Island, and try your luck on the 18 hole Championship golf course.

Regular visitors. Just keep your food hidden.

The sunsets on Hamilton are wondrous, and there is only one place to be come sunset. One Tree Hill is on everybody’s “must do” list whilst on the island. And when we arrived, it looked as though the rest of the island were already there. Up here, earlier in the day, it was very quiet, with nary a golf buggy in sight. But coming back for sun down, chauffeur driven from the hotel no less, the road up was lined, literally lined with buggy after buggy. Thankfully, we had packed a couple of cold beers, so we fit in perfectly with the live music, and party vibe as we bid farewell to the day, and gently eased into the evening.

As no private vehicles are allowed on the island, the ubiquitous electric golf buggy is the only way to get around. The island is small, and walk-able, but in the Queensland heat, you soon want to take it a little easier. Hired by the hour, or the day, buggies are a constant sight around the island, never really going fast enough to make you feel you had to be constantly alert when wandering around. This was the first time I had driven one, and it took me a while to get used to how slow you go. A little like driving a dodgem at the fairground. Turn the key, press the “F” button, and press hard on the accelerator. How to reverse? Just as simple. Press the “R” button instead.

The Beach Club hotel could not be in a better location. Right on the beach, funnily enough. With an infinity pool framed by large palm trees. Fancy a change? Then there are loungers on the private beach, with staff from the hotel only too happy to bring you a cold beer when things get too hot.

But all that being said, the key selling point for me, the thing that made me part with my hard-earned cash, was the fact that the Beach Club is an adults only hotel. And it is only when you leave the hotel, and see just how many families with children there are on the island, you really appreciate the peace, and serenity of the Beach Club. Worth every single dollar.

Sustainability is a big thing on Hamilton Island, and this comes through in the little things. Each guest at the Beach Club is provided with a refillable bottle, that can be refilled constantly at the hotel’s filtered water station. Still and sparkling. And any straw that is used is paper. Why do you even need straws you may ask? For the fancy cocktails, obviously. Although, I did have problems finishing my pina colada as my paper straw disintegrated.

Food is a highlight of any trip, and this was no exception. Dinner was had twice at the hotel restaurant, and was excellent on both occasions. Served where we had our daily breakfasts, fringing the beach, it really was food with a view.

On our first evening we had the degustation menu, trying such delights as house cured salmon, Malaysian style coconut cream curry, and house made limoncello as a palate cleanser (which was delicious). For our final night on the island we went a la carte, and I had one of the best dishes I have ever had. Ever. Anywhere. It was the tagliolini, with barramundi, mussels, and lots more. Oh my. Words fail me.

Would I go back to Hamilton Island? In a heartbeat. Would I stay at the Beach Club again? I wouldn’t even think of staying anywhere else. Right now I am looking at a fairly packed 2019 calendar, trying to work out where I could squeeze in a return visit.

Long Weekend in The Hunter Valley – October 2018

October 27, 2018 by Fran Leave a Comment

As I was sitting on the large wooden deck, sipping the strong coffee that I hoped would slowly start breathing life into my tired body, I came face to face with them. Skipping through the paddock, down through the eucalyptus trees that fringed the creek, and abruptly stopping on spotting me. Ears twitching. Alert at all times. And fast. Very fast.

Kangaroos in the wild — The locals are friendly

Indigenous to Australia, estimates put the number of kangaroos here at 34 million. This morning’s visitors were a doe, and her joey, of the Eastern Grey variety. It is one of the highlights of our trips to the country, be it the Hunter Valley, or inland to Mudgee, that we get to see so much wildlife, including the roos, in their natural environment.

This trip was to the Hunter, and was our first there this year, in what has become an annual pilgrimage. As well as the wildlife, the wide open spaces, the lack of traffic, and the solitude, there is also the little matter of some of the world’s best wines to sample. And inevitably buy. Although, due to the number of bottles of wine stockpiling at home, we had told ourselves we would be very restrained on this trip.

Suitably fuelled up, both the hire car, and ourselves, and after a great breakfast at Cafe Mosman, we hit the road around 10.30am. Being a public holiday weekend, what we would call a Bank Holiday in the UK, we knew the traffic leaving the city would be bad. We didn’t expect it to be quite so bad. Coming up through the suburbs of St Leonards, Wahroonga, and everywhere in between, it took us 1 hour before we even hit the motorway. At least from here it was plain sailing.

Pulling off at Calga, and bypassing the Australian Wildlife Centre for once, we took the tourist route, up through the valley, and towards the charming little town of Wollombi. A place that I would definitely recommend for a coffee, sandwich, and a browse of the little arts and crafts shops. But today, we were just passing through. We had other things on our minds, and soon we were sat in the courtyard of the delightful Krinklewood winery, nibbling locally made cheeses, and working our way down the wine tasting menu.

It had taken us two and half hours, door to cellar door. I had expected the journey to be slightly quicker, but then I never expect the sheer volume of traffic that we encounter. But now, I had exhaled, took some deep breaths of the fresh country air, and was in chill mode. A mode I would not be exiting until around lunchtime on Monday.

What does take me slightly longer is regaining my sense of perspective. You see, on arrival at Krinklewood, I shuddered at how busy it was. Good lord, there were maybe 4, or 5 small tables occupied. Yes, only a handful of people in reality. That said, I was much happier after approximately 20 minutes, when we had the whole courtyard to ourselves.

Remember the promise we made ourselves about showing restraint with wine purchases? Cue us walking out the cellar door with the first 6 bottles. Krinklewood is one of our favourite vineyards, and knowing they rarely sell to bottle shops in Australia, we knew we had to take our opportunity to stock up the wine cellar. At least that was our excuse.

On the recommendation of Ruth in the cellar door, we then drove next door (which in the Hunter is quite a drive), and visited Ann of Greenway Wines. A vineyard we hadn’t visited before. How exciting. A new addition to the “wine tasting our way around the world” spreadsheet. Greenway is what you would call a boutique winery. Very small. But as with a lot of the boutique wineries we search out, it was quiet. In fact, we were the only ones at the cellar door, so we got a very good tasting, of some very good wines. The Pinot Gris was excellent but the stand out for me was “The Architect” shiraz. And yes, we walked away with more bottles of wine.

Experience told me that mobile phone reception is patchy in the Hunter. Some places non-existent. The same with wi-fi in a lot of the accommodation. This is one of the things that appeals about our trips up here. But, we do have to find our accommodation. Easier said than done with no phone reception. Google is our friend here, with the offline map download option. Driving back from Broke, along Hermitage Road, and into Belford, along several country roads, some just dirt tracks, had us feeling we were completely lost. Without the offline map on my phone we would never have found our accommodation.

Block Eight villa — Our accommodation for the weekend

Block Eight vineyard has one large house for rent, and 3 self-contained villas. We were in one of the villas. Very spacious. Wooden floors throughout. A double set of twin doors, opening out onto the balcony, with views down to the water. Taking pride of place, in the centre of the room, staunchly sat between the two sets of doors, was a squat, black wood burner. Not that we will be need it, based on the temperature, but I know that I won’t be able to resist throwing a few logs on tonight.

Dropping off our bags, we went for a walk around the very large grounds of Block Eight, saying hello to the resident pig, goats, chickens and peacocks, whilst each of us (Vik and I, not the animals) were secretly deliberating if it was too soon to start on the new purchases, (spoiler alert: the answer is always NO, in the Hunter), and which of them would be first.

Getting around the Hunter is easy when you are driving. Not quite as easy when you have been drinking, and want to drink more. One bottle in, and knowing we had a dinner reservation, we pre-booked a taxi. Later that evening, walking to the entrance of Block Eight in pitch darkness, the stars were amazing. Breathtaking. The lack of light pollution once you leave the city allows you to appreciate the world above us. The fun of determining what is a satellite, against a shooting star. We were brought back to earth with headlights, the only headlights, in the distance, signalling to us that our taxi was approaching.

Botanica Restaurant is in the grounds of Spicers Retreat, and only about 15 minutes drive from our villa. The food was good, but I somehow felt it was lacking the wow factor. Maybe because I had decided to have a meat free night, something that I very rarely do. The spanner crab and bisque starter were very good, as was the fish I had for main course. But, it just didn’t hit the spot in the same way that the pork knuckle did that I had recently at Riley Street Garage in Sydney.

Sunday morning dawned with my meeting the kangaroos. The early mornings are one of my ultimate highlights of our weekends in the country. Taking my coffee outside onto the deck. Watching the mist slowly rise over the water. Ducks splashing about. Kangaroos coming down for a drink. The unmistakable smell of the eucalypt trees. Life slows right down in these moments. Moments to cherish, and be thankful for.

One of the perks of staying in the country is often a breakfast hamper that you get. The eggs literally could not be fresher, as free range as they come, from the chucks here on the property. Bacon, fresh sourdough bread, and some black pudding I had brought up specially from our local butcher, and I was set up for the day.

When I tell you about lunch, you may feel that all I do on these weekends is eat and drink. You would be right. 100%. Lunch was at the Verandah Restaurant, on the Calais Estate vineyard. Tapas style. And very good. Complemented with a glass of their very own semillon. The Hunter is renowned for excellent semillons. And excellent I am sure they are. However, over the years I have realised I only really enjoy very young semillons. Anything that has been in the bottle over 2 years just develops into a “classic” semillon. Deep golden, nutty, with notes of honey. It sounds delicious. But the distinctive taste is not to my liking, in the same way that the disappointing, highly oaked chardonnays that used to dominate the supermarket shelves years ago.

Across the road was Gemelli Estate, a vineyard we last visited a few years ago. A brief tasting, and one bottle of wine purchased, we headed back towards the villa, stopping off at a place that had caught my eye earlier in the day.

Black Creek Farm has a fabulous cellar door, with a deck that sits out over the vineyard. Ably guarded from birds by Wilson the collie dog, Black Creek is run by husband and wife team, Jean and Nadine. Originally from France, but living the last 20 years in Australia, the couple decided to make the big change in the pace of their life by moving up to the Hunter once their children had grown up. They were now doing an excellent job running Black Creek, producing some very quaffable wines under the “Thélème” banner. I even got the whole back story to the name. Clearly very passionate about the wines they produce, we had an excellent, very informative tasting. Jean took us through the wine list, tasting wines side by side to better compare, whilst Nadine supplied us with cheese and crackers to help the palate. Yes, we walked away with yet more bottles of wine.

Monday morning brought October with it. The second month of spring. Slowly waking, and turning over, I tentatively gave the head a little shake to see if I was suffering from the excesses of yesterday. I should have been. We drank a lot of wine. What with the tastings. And the bottle of champagne we brought with us to celebrate being away, which we drank watching the sunset. And then the local wines we subsequently drank. I should have been, and expected to be, very dusty. I usually am on weekends in the Hunter. However, I felt great. So much that I jumped up, made a coffee, and lit up the BBQ to cook breakfast.

We reluctantly packed up, and checked out, and made our way to the vineyard with quite possibly the best views in the Hunter. Audrey Wilkinson produce some very good wines, but so early in the day we were only here for the views, and a little stretch of the legs. The fresh air did us good. So much so that after a short drive we were once again crossing the Hunter, on our way to taste wine. This time at Iron Gate estate. Our first visit. A new one for the spreadsheet. As with the boutique wineries, a quiet cellar door always allows for a more personal service. Once again we were given the opportunity to taste the same wines, of different vintages, side by side. Need I tell you that we left with more bottles in the boot?

I am always left with a feeling of sadness leaving the Hunter. But at the same time happy, and very grateful that we get the opportunity to spend time in a world-class wine region, almost on our doorstep. The sadness is the realisation we have to leave the tranquillity behind and return to the madness that is city life in Sydney. Horrendous traffic, a 3 hour drive, and we were once again back to reality. Packing our wine away, and checking our calendars for the next free weekend.

Experimenting with memoir – Let me know your thoughts

September 18, 2018 by Fran Leave a Comment

For some time, I have being collaborating with a fellow creator, Phil (i_am_foggy), on a memoir type book. Writing a chapter each on how we met, and how our lives took us from Yorkshire, to new homes across the globe. We are not sure where we will take this, but it is good to go through the process. The posts are published to our Medium publication, but thought I would share a post here, and see if this kind of thing is of any interest.

A lot has changed over the years. You notice this more when you get older, and start getting a little introspective. When I say a little more, I obviously mean a lot more. I was born introspective, and have got worse with the passing of time. Birthdays have a good way of bringing this on. As do the year ends. And for me, both come within a week of each other. Creating a natural pause in life’s usual rhythm. And it helps that I have time off work. Time to spend with friends and loved ones. Assessing where I am in life. And making little tweaks, or adjustments to stay on course.

Not that I believe we can totally chart the course of our lives. Life has a habit of getting in the way of our plans. And sometimes all we can do is roll with it. But some markers help me set a little direction. And keep me focussed on my life goals.

If you have ever read a self help book, and I have, possibly too many, you will know that the most commonly asked question is a variation of, if tonight is your last night on earth, what would have regretted not doing? Not what do you regret doing. There is no fixing that, other than learning from the experience. But, what do you regret not doing? At the end of each year, and with each passing birthday, I allow myself a little time to think about this, and then what can I do to ensure I am not left with these regrets.

This is not to be confused with some kind of existential crisis. Or the onset of a mid life crisis. Am I too old for this? What would you classify as mid life? I have images of midlife crises being suffered by men entering their 40s. I’m at the stage of exiting my 40s. Does this become a two thirds life crisis? Will people in their 50s be suffering midlife crises in a decade from now? No, my problem is not a midlife crisis, I don’t think. It is simply an acknowledgement that we have one life, we can do what we want with it, so what do I want to do.

Invariably most of my thoughts centre around travel, and my mind scans a mental globe for the places I yearn to go to, and haven’t yet. And it is a yearning. A deep desire to see as much of the world as possible. I once almost picked up one of those scratch maps of the world, that you can slowly scratch off the countries you visit. What stopped me was the knowledge, the deep knowledge that I would only get depressed, and start fixating on where I hadn’t been, not where I had.

A by product of some of these travel dreams involve learning a second language. Not only do I find it incredibly impressive hearing people seamlessly switch between languages, but I also feel ignorant, and lazy, that I know only the one. One of my travel dreams involves living and immersing myself in the life and culture of a foreign speaking country. Preferably a Spanish speaking country.

I’m not sure I was always like this. Or if I was, it was a latent, sleeping desire, that I hadn’t unleashed. And didn’t get unleashed until my early 20s. Up to that point I had only left the UK twice. Both short haul trips. Both for a period of 7 days. I was hardly Phileas Fogg. But that backpacking trip to Australia, in the summer of 1994, was the trigger. The point I can look back on and say, you, you are responsible for the wanderlust that has been a big part of my life ever since.

Maybe I was born with a travelling gene. Perhaps it is somewhere in my family tree. Some long lost family member who I can attribute this longing to. Maybe I wasn’t born with it, but subsequently developed it. But whichever way around it was, it no doubt had a large part to play in my finding myself in Dublin, alone, on a wet Monday in April back in 2006.

For most of my adult life I have done whatever I can to ensure my life includes a large element of unconventionality. Sometimes to the point where I have pressed the self destruct button if I felt things were getting too settled. The status quo unnerves me. I can’t explain why, only to tell you it does. If life starts to feel too comfortable, too settled, I start to feel very uneasy. Start questioning my every decision. Start looking for ways to flip the coin again and see how it lands.

Because, heads or tails, life goes on. Sometimes in a different direction. Sometimes in a better direction. Sometimes, worse, at least for a while. But rest assured, life does go on. And by throwing away what I have, opens my life up to what I don’t have. If I keep doing this, how can I possibly experience that, is how my mind works. To date, my life has been full of amazing experiences. I have had the love of some amazing people. Some still love me. Some would probably prefer I was dead. Most are probably ambivalent. A lot will have forgotten me. But I have made these choices. And probably will continue to.

I could churn out cliche after cliche for you, but I don’t need to. I only need to tell you how I feel, and what my life philosophy is. My life could end at any point. Literally. I hope it doesn’t, but accepting that knowledge frees you to enjoy life more fully. I buy into the Buddhist philosophy that life is just a phase, in the same way that death is a phase. You can’t have one, without the other. I am reconciled to this knowledge. I am not saying that everyday is a holiday. Or that I don’t have any responsibilities. I do. That is part of living too. But I like to keep any responsibilities to a minimum. And I like to keep my possessions to a minimum, where possible. And in between working, to pay my way in life, I also like to apportion a large part of my income to travel plans, and life experiences for the next 12 months. Why 12 months? I believe that this is a manageable horizon to plan against. The next 12 months is close enough to be able to make tangible plans and really believe they will come to fruition. Beyond that, life tends to take over.

Sure, I could try and have grand plans for later years. Try and provide an answer to the asinine interview question that asks “where do you want to be in 5 years?” I don’t know, I want to shout. How do any of us? Should I just get my head down for a number of years and enjoy my life when i’m retired? No thank you. That approach is not for me, for a number of reasons. Amongst them is the number of people, friends and family, I know that have had the same “plan”, only to not then be around to enjoy their freedom. And if they were, would they be in the physical shape they wanted to be to travel and enjoy the hardships that travel brings?

So for now, my life remains a precarious balance. I do a job that I would rather not do, just so I can earn the money I need to do the things I like to do. The ideal scenario is to get a job, or vocation, that I enjoy. And yes, that dream still burns. I would love to get out of the offices that I have spent over 20 years in. Actually, today is my 29th anniversary of starting work. Shit, where has that time gone?

I would love to create something. I recently read that the fabulous author, E. Annie Proulx didn’t write her first novel until she was 57. I can still dream. I would love to be my own boss. As with all my plans, these remain on the list, and hopefully, one New Year’s Eve, when I am pencilling in my plans for the following year, these make the cut.

Would you call these a bucket list? I do. Even if in the truest sense of the phrase is that you know your destiny, your departure date, and there are things you have a time limit to complete. I call mine my annual bucket list. Things I want to experience, accomplish, and see before I know i’m dying. Well, I KNOW i’m dying. We all are. We just don’t know when.

I am obviously older than I think, according to a new story published by the Lonely Planet. Apparently, Thailand have introduced a new level of long stay visa, to attract “seniors” in the autumn of their life. The starting age for these so called seniors? 50. Yup, in 3 and a bit years I am officially a senior in the eyes of the Thai government. The jury is still out on whether this is a good thing or not. One thing I do know is that I could live a lot more cheaply in Thailand. The more I think of it, the more it appeals.