Wine, Shopping & Very Small Towns

After a delightful few days, it was time to bid Southend goodbye.  Maggie and I had a last wander along our beach and a final roll in some stinky seaweed (Maggie, not me) before we packed up and said a sad farewell to Site 21.  We were heading north to go to the Coonawarra wine region but did a small detour first to Woakwine Cutting.  This is a huge cutting that bisects the Woakwine Range and it was constructed in the 1950s by a local farmer (evidently an "environmental carer") to drain the Woakwine Swamp, and thereby give him more fertile land.  It is very impressive and has some stunning statistics; a length of 1000 metres, over 28 metres deep and 276,000 cubic metres of material removed.  Poor swamp.

Up to Coonawarra, where I had found a campsite that sounded fantastic but fell short ... by a long way.  I won't go into it but let me just say that I was hanging out for the end of the school holidays!  Unfortunately I arrived on ANZAC Day so most of the wineries were closed, so what to do?  The answer ... Mary McKillop!  I hadn't realised that Penola was where she started her first school.  So off I went to learn about Australia's saint.  After a while, in the rather impressive centre, I came to a few conclusions (apologies in advance to all Catholics).  Firstly, it seems a bit of a dodgy system for becoming a saint.  Our Mary was nominated for 'heroic virtue' which I'm sure applies to lots of people.  And it's only after the process is begun that the church then requires two miracles, one for the beaification and then a second for the canonisation.  It all seems a bit ... ???  Secondly, I would have voted for Father Woods - what an impressive life!

Maggie enjoying a bone in our campsite ... glamping in the vines (also screaming, drinking, partying, music blaring, kids fighting etc in the vines)

Van Morrison soaking up some blessings from Mary McKillop

The most interesting thing about the Mary McKillop story was the person who inspired and mentored her; Father Julian Tenison Woods.  He was a geologist and botanist, a traveler and explorer, an accomplished artist and published scientist, a pioneering priest.  His achievements seem to have been overshadowed by Mary's sainthood - a truly fascinating man.

Travelling with Maggie is a delight!  She is excellent at introducing me to all sorts of people and she has been essential on some of the VERY cold nights (definitely 'one dog nights' lately).  But there is a serious problem with taking her to Western Australia.  No! It's nothing to do with being barred from National Parks.  It's 1080.  Baits.  Poison.  And (evidently) it's everywhere in WA.  So, before I left home, I bought her a muzzle which she hates.  And I mean REALLY hates.  So I've found an alternative ... it ships from the US (not a lot of help) ... but then I found one on Marketplace ... in Adelaide!  So I abandoned tasting cabernets and went shopping for this!

What?

Huh! Try eating a bait in that!

Why don't you have to wear a cage on your head?

Due to the School holidays and LIV golf, Adelaide was booked out so I finally found a campsite at the footy ground of Williamstown.  There's not much in Williamstown (good op shop) but it was where the Barossa Bulldogs were taking on Tununda.  It wasn't pretty and I did see some tears.  I'm sure everyone from the B grade team have now left town or taken up cricket.  And as for the trauma to those little U13s ... they'll never get over this.

But there was nothing to hold me in Williamstown and I was hankering for wide, open vistas and C roads.  So we packed up and headed north.  A short stop in Mintaro and a lovely sangiovese in Clare before I reached Brinkworth.

Mintaro was a lovely little town, all wide open streets and old stone houses.  And where else would you see someone take their donkey for a walk?  Its name was Damian. 

It's dry!  The paddocks are all dirt and wheat stubble and the sheep seem to be feeding off dust and sticks.  There's no water in the dams and creeks and the air crackles with the lack of moisture.  

Aaah - Brinkworth!  Not many people seem to know about Brinkworth, let alone go there.  However, it has a great little RV stop with a shower, a pub that opens sometimes, a very interesting signed walk around the town, not many people, no shops ... but it does have a policeman (I'm not sure why).  Brinkworth was a railway town and it's mainly one main street (called Main Street) and the old railway line.  There are beautiful houses and (closed) shops - surprisingly, all the houses look well cared for and tenanted.  Main Street goes for an impressive 2.1 kilometres!  I measured it!

The Junction Hotel back then ... when it opened all the time and probably had meals.

The Junction Hotel now ... no meals tonight but some Twisties - an interesting pairing with my Shiraz!

Every town, no matter how small, seems to have a beautiful building which is the Soldiers' Memorial.

They lied!

Main Street

Reluctantly leaving Brinkworth, I headed to Snowtown.  Now, I'll admit that the only reason I went there was because it was Snowtown.  You know, serial killers and bodies in the barrels and all that.  

I'm not sure that the barrels outside the Snowtown hotel give quite the right impression

Another lovely Soldiers' Memorial

THE bank!  Now a private residence ...  eerrk!

More impressive buildings - Gladstone

And then I came to Wirrabara.  Not pronounced Wirra-barra.  Pronounced Wi-RAB-arra.  What a gem!  I came for one night and stayed three.  There was a comfortable park next to the showgrounds, beautiful new amenities, an arboretum, sculptures, a pub (with meals), the best bakery of the trip so far, heaps to see in the surrounding area ... I loved it!  

OK, so the sculptures were a little bit weird (they were all made out of chicken wire)

Wirrabara silo art

Dry creeek bed in the arboretum

Titled "Promiscuous Tree".  Not sure why.

The busy main street of Wirrabara

The lovely caretakers recommended that I do the drive to Port Germein, along the Germein Gorge road.  Wow!  In amongst all this open, barren farmland was a wooded, twisting road beside a dry creek bed.  It was a very unusual road since the edges were made of dry stone walls, to protect the road being washed away.

Falling rocks ... yes.  Kangaroos ... yes.  But falling kangaroos?  That's a new one for me!

This is a clock-faced tide guage (c.1800) which used to be in the shipping channel on a big stand.  A series of levers and pulleys on the outside of the stand, rose and fell with the tide and then the clock's hand showed the appropriate depth measurement.  Genius!

Maggie and I walked out along the Port Germein jetty ... an impressive 1.5 kilometres long!

So now I'm in Quorn.  Not pronounced Corn.  Pronounced Ka-worn (these South Australians seem to be rather sensitive about how things are pronounced).  I've visited the gin distillery (I think I offended them because I said I preferred their vodka to the gin - oops) and watched the light show on the silo last night.  Maggie has discovered the soft, green, grassy oval and I found a Japanese restaurant!  

Wilmington Soldiers' Memorial

Light show on the Quorn silo ... 

Maggie sitting on the Goyder Line

Hmmm ... 

Incredible red gums, south of Quorn