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Secret Margaret River – What You Won’t Want to Miss
The Margaret River region, whilst famous for its wine, and rightly so, has something for everyone. Whether you are coming to escape the hustle and bustle of the city and want a quiet retreat. If you have come to celebrate a big occasion and want to taste some of the highest quality wines in the world. If spending time in the ocean is your thing. Or just hiking in the bush. One thing is for sure, Margaret River, and the surrounds, have you covered.
Start the day well
And what better way to set yourself up for your day, than an invigorating early morning walk along the oceanfront. Take off your shoes and feel the sand beneath your feet. Pause, listen to the seagulls squawking, circling above, and marvel at the ease with which the early surfers navigate the huge swell.
Whilst surfers have the sea to themselves, my priorities are a little different. No day starts without coffee, right? The best coffee in Margaret River right now is being pumped out by the Commonage Coffee Company (http://www.commonagecoffeeco.com.au/). On your way to the beach, take your reusable coffee cup and pick up one of the best brews you are sure to have on the west coast.
Suitably caffeinated, drive the short distance to the quaint bakery, Yallingup Gugelhupf, and pick up a small treat, still warm from the oven. I personally recommend the pain au chocolat. You won’t be disappointed.
Breakfast
The early start, the long walk along the beach, your mind will now be turning to thoughts of breakfast, and definitely more coffee.
Fast becoming a firm favourite, and not just for their excellent bacon benedict. Or the chilled vibe. Although both are a factor in always drawing us back. The great service, together with the strong, quality coffee ensure that a visit to the Sea Garden Café is always top of any itinerary in Margaret River.
All the breakfast classics are here, together with a few asian influenced dishes. Judging by the number I saw leaving the kitchen, the Nasi Goreng is a hit with the locals.
In town for more than one day? Of course you are. On your second morning, head along the coast to Gnarabup and have an equally impressive breakfast, with an even better view, at the unmissable White Elephant café. With possibly the best beachside location in the world, the “Ele” is always packed to the rafters with locals filling up after their early morning swim in the ocean, whatever time of year.
Wines and Vines
Breakfast done, and enough coffee to start your engine for the day, it is time to explore what Margaret River is most famous for. The premium wine that is produced from the 5,000 plus hectares under vine. Predominantly boutique, that are in excess of 200 wineries, enough to keep even the most enthusiastic oenophile busy for a long time.
Jarvis Estate
Greeted on arrival by AJ, the friendly family dog, Jarvis Estate (https://jarvisestate.com.au/) is a great example of one of Margaret River’s boutique vineyards. Thankfully, we arrived just as a large tour bus from the popular “Wine for Dudes” company was leaving. This meant we had the cellar door to ourselves, and AJ.
We were guided through a full tasting, of some rather excellent wines, and I even got to try a tawny, straight from the barrel. These are the kind of experiences that you don’t get from some of the larger, more commercial wineries.
Whether you prefer the classic Cabernet, famous in the region, or if white is your go to drink, there is sure to be something in the range that you will want to take home with you. If you would rather not go home, there are even a few unpowered camp sites available.
Rosily wines
Moving on to Wilyabrup, next on the list is Rosily vineyard (https://www.rosily.com.au/Rosily-Wines). Named after a French count, who was exploring the area of Western Australia in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, Rosily maintains its French influence through the use of the fleur-de-lys on the label, and the French style in the wine making.
Enjoy an outstanding Sauvignon Blanc, but just don’t compare it to those produced over the Tasman in New Zealand. There was a friendly feeling of “them and us” when the subject was raised.
At Rosily, all the fruit is produced onsite and hand harvested, with the vineyard certified organic. The result is a full range of excellent wines that will make a welcome addition to your wine cellar.
Time for lunch
All this wine tasting has left you feeling as though you need some sustenance. And Margaret River has you covered. The options are almost endless. As I sat down to sip my Filius Chardonnay, from Vasse Felix, I decided that Meelup Farmhouse (https://www.meelupfarmhouse.com.au/) was certainly the right choice.
Located at the top of the Margaret River region, a stone’s throw from Meelup Beach, the Farmhouse feels like an oasis. Large picnic areas to while away a long afternoon, and a restaurant that feels relaxed, and refined at the same time. I can highly recommend the chargrilled Fremantle octopus and the Goldband snapper fillet. And I am told the chilli prawn spaghetti was delicious.
Breweries
Wine is what Margaret River became famous for, but hot on the shoulders is craft beer. With new breweries seemingly popping up all the time, you are spoilt for choice. Located at the top of the region, in Naturaliste, is Eagle Bay Brewing Company. A micro brewery situated on a working family farm that has been going for over 60 years.
The best way to sample the beers is to get yourself a tasting flight. Six of the tap beers, lined up in order of heaviness, saving the nut brown ale to finish on.
Situated down in Cowaramup, in a rural location on North Treeton Road, Cowaramup Brewing Company is a delight. Open every day, from 11am to 6pm, serving a range of quality handcrafted ales and lagers.
Again, the flight is the way to go. Getting to taste each of the Cowaramup Pilsener, Hefeweizen, Lightsign Summer Ale, Special Pale Ale, India Pale Ale and Cowaramup Chocolate Porter, leaves you wondering which one you will try a pint of. Just as long as you are not the “skipper”, and that someone else is in charge of the car keys.
Something for Everyone
The Margaret River region really has something for everyone. Now that the borders to West Australia have been relaxed this beautiful area, of natural beauty, and world class food and wine, should be top of your 2021 bucket list.
With so much still to explore, we have already booked a return visit for January. See you there?
Should I put the iron away and travel?
I have loved travel for most of my life. And when I say travel, I don’t mean holidays. (Although, I do bloody love holidays). I mean what I would call real travel. Not cocooned in some 5 star hotel, plumping my pillows, and bedding down in Egyptian cotton sheets of the highest quality thread count, whilst the locals can’t afford food and drink, let alone shelter. Not soothed by air conditioning when the locals live in temperatures that could cook an egg.
And not visiting a place, to stay imprisoned within the confines of a resort, owned by an overseas conglomerate, never to venture outside, to interact with the locals. No. I want to sample some amazing street food. I want to smell the spices. I want to be visually bombarded with colour, and activity. I want to contribute to the local economy, not the faceless one.
When people tell me they have been to a certain country, when in fact they never left their international hotel resort drives me mad. If you are going to visit a country, visit that country, its people, and its customs. India is not best seen through the windows of your air-conditioned tour bus. You won’t see some of Mexico’s best temples, from early civilisation, from your lounger in a US run holiday resort. And the UK is not best seen from an open top bus in London. Whilst I’m on that point, no open top bus is probably good advice, knowing the English weather.
The amount of people I talk to here who tell me they went to the UK and loved London. The end. The whole of the UK, and they loved London. If I had a Bitcoin for every time somebody here asked me “when do you fly to London” whenever I visit the UK, I still wouldn’t understand Bitcoin. But I would have a lot of them. By the way, I blatantly stole that one, so if you are reading this, over your freshly baked focaccia with smashed avo, I do heartily apologise. The blank stares I get when I ask people what they thought of the Lake District, the beautiful Cornish coastline, or the wonders of Edinburgh and Glasgow, confounds me.
One of the greatest travel writers, Paul Theroux, said “tourists don’t know where they have been, travellers don’t know where they are going.” And that encapsulates the feeling, and the joy of travel. Waking up one day, not knowing where you will be going to bed. The unbridled freedom this gives. Backpacking. Independent travel. Whatever label we want to give to it, it is about immersing yourself in a country, and a culture. Find your favourite local bakery. Your favourite spot for morning coffee. Order it in the local language. OK, I admit this could be difficult in Scotland. Laugh along when you get it completely wrong. Walk the streets, smell the smells. Listen to the cacophony of sounds. See what the locals do. Just sit and people watch. Let your mind wander. A form of meditation. Be present.
This is the travel that I have in my heart. What I yearn for most days. Trapped in an office, earning the money to be able to escape the office, and go off and do these things feels like a Faustian pact. Modern life has a way of keeping you in chains. To enjoy a lot of the things that we want to enjoy, we need money. And so we sell our services, to the highest bidder. A roaming troubadour. A means to an end.
And this is where our life conditioning comes in again. We are told that we need to work hard, save lots of money in our superannuation, or pension, and then, when we reach retirement age, which seems to keep creeping inexorably up, we can take that money and “enjoy” life. And I have seen how that works out for a lot of people. My own father amongst them. His dream was to retire and move to Spain. A very modest dream. And that man worked harder than anybody I have ever known. But he never got to live out his dream. Cancer took his dream away.
I read of people who strive every day, struggle every day, ticking off the days to retirement. Then retirement comes along, and they are suddenly struck down with a fatal heart attack.
OK, OK, I know I have being a little morbid. And a trifle dramatic. I am not naive enough to think this happens everyone. Lots of people do get to retire, and go off and do the things they have dreamt about all their hard-working life. But is it worth taking the chance? Every day I bottle up all these feelings. Keep the lid on them. Do a job that I feel trapped in. Office bound.
That I am doing this until some arbitrary date in the future seems pointless. I have money in the bank. And I have my health and fitness. For now. I have to admit, my knees give me cause for concern most mornings. So why am I not off travelling? Living the life I would prefer to live. Tipping the scales so that the balance is in favour of travel, and less so on work. There are places in the world I am desperate to see. Why am I still ironing shirts for work on Sunday afternoons, and not packing my bags?
Only I can answer that.
Festive Fun on Australia’s East Coast
End of Year Reflections
Another year around the sun. Another Xmas. Another time to pause and reflect. The year end, and the marking of another birthday being the perfect circuit breaker to reflect on the year gone, and set my intentions for the year ahead.
It is also a good time to catch up on some reading. And there are some people I read about that continue to live long in the imagination. So long that I can only assume they lived very long lives. And what seems to always surprise me is how short some of these lives were. That their lives were full, rather than long. Given the choice I would opt for a long, and full life. If I had to pick one, it would be the latter. Better to live one day as a lion, than a thousand days as a sheep.
One of the books I am currently reading is about Napoleon Bonaparte. The General, and one time Emperor of France. Having now outlived Napoleon, I find it hard to fathom how he fit so much into his short 51 years. Hailing from the island of Corsica, and not even speaking French, Napoleon rose through the ranks, and created a legacy that lives on, even today.
Heading back to Margaret River
I may not have conquered countries, but I have had the great fortune to visit many. For us, 2023 started in Tokyo, Japan, and for the first four months of the year we explored much of South East Asia. The year ended in Australia, in Byron Bay on the east coast. Before then we had my birthday celebrations and Xmas break in Margaret River. You may have heard me talk of Margaret River previously.
Yes, for three days over Xmas we were back in our happy place. Revisiting Injidup Spa Retreat near Yallingup. Waking on Xmas Day to views of the Pacific Ocean, and wide expanses of empty sandy beaches. Truly blessed. Being rather isolated, we had to bring three days food and drink supply with us. A couple of eskies full, we had enough food and alcohol to last. We hoped.
Birthday breakast overlooking the ocean
As has become a birthday tradition we cooked up a full English breakfast on the BBQ and cracked open the Sparkling Shiraz that we had been saving for this very occasion. Later, as we had a dip in the plunge pool, we reflected on the year that we have had. We completed our big overseas adventure, finally getting to do our almost year long travel sabbatical. Upon our return to Australia we found a rental in Perth, and proceeded to readjust to life in one place. The best we could.
One plus to being located in Perth is being so close to the Margaret River region. Picking up the hire car on Christmas Eve, we were pulling up for a vineyard lunch less than three hours later. Rustico at Hay Shed Hill is a long time favourite, usually opting for this excellent degusation menu. Who can look past that crispy pork belly? However, in keeping with the time of year, this time we had the Xmas Feast. And what a feast it was. Victoria had to roll me out once we had finished our Mango and Raspberry Pavlova.
And I rolled all the way back to the plunge pool at the villa. A glass of champagne in hand, we toasted another great day. We didn’t move much for the rest of the day, bouncing between the pool and the sun loungers. As the sun set my thoughts turned to Xmas morning and how long it would take me to open all the birthday presents under the small Xmas tree we had brought with us.
Life is all about Swings and Roundabouts
Boxing Day saw us having lunch at Swings and Roundabouts, a restaurant and cellar door very close to where we were staying. We had pondered on whether it would be busy. Trying to find a space to park in the over flow car park answered that question for us. Victoria had the foresight to reserve a table for us and for a couple of hours we had a very good lunch, decamping onto the lawn with a glass of wine afterwards to soak up the atmosphere of the live music.
Life can be pretty good at times. And this was definitely one of those times.
Byron Bay Bound
Another of those times was just two days later as we boarded an early flight to Brisbane. Our summer holiday was about to start in earnest. We had a four and half hour flight to Brisbane where we collected a hire car and Victoria drove us the two hours south, across the border into New South Wales, and into Byron Bay.
The last time we were in Byron was about six years ago. Each time we visit we have a great time, and this time was no exception.
Australia’s Most Easterly Point
Five days went by in a blur of excellent food, margaritas, and long beach walks. We walked up to the lighthouse, the most easterly point in Australia, watching large pods of dolphins frolic in the sea alongside us. Taking advantage of the free bikes from the hotel, we cycled out of town to visit Stone & Wood brewery. This visit was even better than the one six years ago as they are now in a bigger location and have a small range of food options. A paddle of beer and chicken wings made for a good afternoon.
Before cycling back to town we went a little further afield and called in at “The Farm”. A large working farm that houses the Three Blue Ducks restaurant. No food for us this time, just a walk around the farm and amongst the sunflowers.
As a reward for a very high step count we ended most days laid around the hotel pool, ordering margaritas from the (too) convenient QR codes that now appear to be absolutely everywhere. Very easy to use, and very easy to lose track of exactly how much money you are spending. Ah well, as we say, “life is short, live it well.”
Over the border to Queensland
Which we intended to do by relaxing and making the most of the break we had. Wednesday morning saw us checking out of the hotel, jumping in the hire car, and heading back over the border to Queensland. We called in at Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast to stretch our legs. This area is constantly changing and part of me feels a little sad to be seeing all the original small apartment buildings being demolished for shiny new apartment towers that a lot of people will not be able to afford.
Some people will call it progress. Thankfully in Australia some things never change. One of these is the love of the humble meat pie. My lunch was a very good one with ketchup before driving the final hour into Brisbane, a city we last visited in 2022, our jumping off point for leaving Australia when we commenced our long travel sabbatical.
Howard Street Wharves
On our last visit we stayed in Fortitude Valley and this time opted for the hotspot of Howard Street Wharves. An area that has been revitalised with new restaurants, bars, and a huge brewery called Felons, serving an excellent hazy pale ale. Our hotel, the CrystalBrook Vincent, was in a prime location, at the end of the Story Bridge. Australia’s second favourite bridge looked quite a pretty sight, festooned in bright green and red lights in the evening.
What is a holiday without a degustation dinner? Ours was at Rogue Bistro, in nearby Newstead, where we enjoyed the 5 course “summer dego” menu. Every morsel was delicious and with the matching wines, we had a gorgeous meal that almost stretched to three hours.
Final Reflections
As we entered the festive period we planned to completely down tools and switch off for a couple of weeks. And this is exactly what we did. I flew through the excellent new biography of Elon Musk. Victoria managed to read the books she had received for her birthday in November.
I write this as we enjoy the final weekend before most of Australia returns to work after what always feels like a nationwide summer holiday. I’m left wondering what the new year will bring. What new places will we visit? Which new restaurants will we get to experience? What I do know is that the year will be full of both as this is what we will make happen. It will manifest.
What will you make happen this year?
Some of the perils of living overseas
As I countdown to my next trip “home”, the first in two years, I have been thinking about some of the perils of living overseas. Now, when I say perils, fear not. I am not intimating that living in Sydney puts me at risk of anything more dangerous that a high phone bill, but there are a number of things that you learn to adapt to when living overseas.
Keeping in touch with friends and family ‘back home’
Technology is a wonderful thing. How wonderful, most of the younger generation will not really appreciate. When I first came travelling to Australia, in June of 1994, there was no internet. Well, there was, but it wasn’t widely available, and thus not widely used. No mobile phones. No fancy little laptops and tablets to blog about your trip. Just a smattering of Internet cafes, where you could purchase a block of time, join the queue, then furiously type as fast as you could once seated so you didn’t run out of allotted minutes, mid email.
If traditional pen and paper was more your thing, and it was, and remains mine, we had “poste restante”. Yeah, I had never heard of it either, before that first trip to Australia in 1994. A quaint little idea, that served me perfectly well. And has resulted in me having a comprehensive, written, documentary record of my trip, and a collection of letters that I treasure. Who knows, some of the words you sent me may one day end up in my magnus opus. My memoir. But don’t worry, I will change the names to protect the innocent.
“Poste Restante” was (maybe still is?) a service offered by the post offices. You let your friends and family know which town, or city, you were hoping to be in, at a certain time, and they could send a letter addressed to you, care of the said post office. All I had to do was, firstly make sure I was actually in that town, then take my ID and go queue up, with all the other backpackers, and collect my letters. Simple as that. Left town before you got your letter? Then I am afraid you never got to know what important musings you were destined to read. When you think of it, this could actually change the direction of peoples lives. Peril alert. You could have left a loved one, on the other side of the world wondering why you never returned their proclamations of love. We will never know.
Telephoning home was possible, but not from one of those nifty little smart phones that we all now have difficulty in lifting our heads up from. We were some years from that. The iPhone was still 13 years away. You had to use a public phone box, (do we still have them?), and usually through the use of a pre-paid telephone card. Due to the time difference between Australia and the UK, this usually meant that calls were made late at night, on a weekend, after one too many schooners. Drunkenly struggling in a payphone cubicle, scratching off the “PIN” code required to enter into the phone, chatting away as fast as you can before your credit ran out. Which wasn’t very long. I later found out that most of these calls I made consisted of me blathering away incoherently, with my parents just happy that I was obviously alive, in good health, and enjoying life. Hardly in any kind of peril.
Life now for the traveller, or expat, is much easier. I think we often forget how far we have come in terms of technology, allowing us to bridge the gap across countries, and continents. This is the changing face of travel. There are a plethora of instant messaging apps. To the point that it is confusing at times working out which ones people have, what devices support which apps, and whether to do just audio, or video too. Skype. Facetime. Google Duo. What’s App video call. And Google Hangouts. The paradox of choice.
That said, I probably communicated a lot more in the “old days”. Letters and calls were done weekly. And now, I instant message a lot, but only probably speak to family and friends once every few months. Hardly makes sense does it? But I think that because the world now seems so small, I have less of a divide to cross. Less of a bridge to gap. I feel that everybody is right there, at the touch of a button.
All this is making me think that maybe I should make more of an effort. Write more letters. And definitely make more calls. Hmm, I have a new objective.
Language “difficulties”
Apart from deciphering the local lingo, and trying to understand why everything in Australia is suffixed with an “o” (Dave-o, Serv-o, Amb-o, Fire-o, please don’t ask!), I don’t have many language issues in Sydney.
Granted, the Aussies can not work out where different UK accents originate from, as a result of them not having many regional accents themselves. This always results in being asked, “right mate, I’m good at this usually. Irish or Scottish?“. Simply that. When I say English, I get a very disbelieving look. “Nah mate, you can’t be. You don’t sound very English. Not like the lads from Earl’s Court, or Fulham, where I lived for a while.” When I ask how many Irish and Scottish people they have met, I get a blank look.
Cue, me eye rolling. Again. Almost without exception, the question about the accent is the first thing I am asked when meeting people. Apart from the local waiter at The Bather’s Pavilion, who complimented us on our very good English, after previously observing us over lunch chatting away in French to each other. What? French? Mon dieu. Two Yorkshire folk, happily chatting away, in English.
“England”, I say, which results in further blank looks.
“You don’t sound English”. Here we go again, I thought.
“Don’t I? That is odd. I lived there for first 40 years of my life, so I kind of assumed I did”.
“No. Not English, English. You know. Like other English people.”
Yes, it gets weary. Having to explain to almost everyone you meet, that I am indeed English.
Sport (well, football), (REAL football)
In many respects, Australia is much like its colder cousin. But, the longer you live here you start to feel some of the very marked differences in culture. A big one that continues to impact my life is football. And this brings one of the biggest cultural differences. Football was a part of my life in the UK. Not just something I chose to do. But was intrinsically woven through the fabric of my life. From playing in the school football team, and captaining it, through to playing regularly at weekends as an adult. Both full 11 aside, and lots of weekly 5 aside games. It was an ever present.
I had hoped it would be even more. As a school child I had been put forward for trials at county level, for Yorkshire. And in the trials, I was played out of what I thought were my best positions, and I didn’t make the cut. This was hard for a 10 year old. Even more so when I saw local lads from that same weekend going on to become professional footballers, even enjoying stints in the Premier League. Oh what might have been.
And then there was following my own club. Every lover of football has their own team. Something that never changes. Through good times, and bad. And I was lucky enough to have a season ticket for my team, Manchester United. Going to my first game at the age of 7, and then continuing the tradition as I grew older, to the point when I could afford a car, and a season ticket.
Football in England is ingrained in the national culture. In much the same was it is in European, and South American countries. It is a religion. And the stadia are the churches. Here in Australia, I have to adapt to the fact that football is a minority sport. It plays second fiddle to the various codes of rugby, and even bloody cricket. Does a more boring game exist?
I do miss the banter that comes from having a beer with mates, all supporting different teams. It can get quite serious, but then, it is football. Here, I can go through a cup final, a local derby, or even, the height of rivalry, a game against Liverpool, and yet it wouldn’t even make a blip on the radars of my colleagues. Well, there are a few from the UK, and even Europe, who do understand, but to everybody else, football might as well not exist.
The tyranny of distance
Yes, I could live somewhere a lot closer than a 24 hour flight away. Or 17 hours should I move to Perth. But where would the fun in that be? I get amused that some family members still struggle with the time difference, some 7 years after I got here. The other day I awoke to a message that asked, “how happy are you now that it is Friday?“. OK, I was tired. I hadn’t got through my first coffee of the day yet. I was still rubbing sleep from my eyes. But, I was sure that after Wednesday, comes Thursday. Unless I had slept for over 24 hours, which would be welcome, but a first, it was not Friday until tomorrow.
One benefit of being this side of the world though is the opportunity to spend time in places like Ubud in Bali, which is only a 6 hour flight away. Half that if I move to Perth. And Thailand becomes a regular destination, which for those of you that have been there, is the definition of paradise. Fancy a wine tasting trip to New Zealand? Maybe a long weekend in Queenstown? Only a 3 hour flight away. And it has to be said, I do love to travel.
From peril, to positive
For every negative, there is a positive. And with Australia, these positives are massive, and many. Enough to keep me here for what is my 7th year. I often get asked why I moved here, alone. Making what most people see as a big step. Firstly, I didn’t, and don’t see it as big. For me, it was just choosing to live somewhere else for a bit. See how it was. Have a little adventure. Write a new chapter. But also, one of the biggest reasons, was to enjoy a warmer climate. I am not a fan of the harsh European winters. In fact, I am forgetting how harsh they can be, not having endured one for over 6 years now. We are currently one week away from winter, and even at 18 degrees, I am wondering whether I need a light jacket as I walk about the village.
With the weather brings an outdoor lifestyle that is hard not to enjoy. I love cafes, and cafe culture, and most of all, I love coffee. And the coffee here in Australia is amongst the best in the world. Weekends are all about finding your favourite spot, and settling in for an amazing brunch, with sublime coffee. Take a book, do some writing, or just watch the world go by, but this is something I just couldn’t do regularly enough in the UK. The weather is often too cold and unpredictable.
The weather also determines your wardrobe for most of the year. And outside of July, which is the coldest winter month, flip flops are de-rigeur. I like that, in Australia, there are no airs and graces when it comes to dress code for all but the most formal occasions. How I hate the stuffiness of formal events. Having to dress a certain way just to go for dinner. Well here in Australia, oftentimes you just wear what you are comfortable in. Shorts at dinner? No problem. Want to head out in your Stan Smiths? Go ahead. That said, I still find it odd that will see many people in the streets with no shoes on. And not just in the beach suburbs like Manly, or Bondi Beach, but also around your local village. Don’t their feet get dirty? Are they not worried about walking in dog poo? (there is enough of it). That is one peril I want to avoid.
For those of you that live overseas, or have in the past, what were your perils? How did you keep in touch with friends and family? What did you miss the most? Let me know in the comments.
Hobart: A love affair
A love affair with Tasmania
Domestic travel in Australia
My carriage awaits |
The Pickled Frog – Hobart
Tasmania’s finest food and drink |
Historic Hobart
Sandy Bay |
MONA – a first visit
Apparently, belongs to Veronique |
You can also buy Bianca’s, just in case you were in any doubt! |