Leaving The Frames was no easy thing, dear reader. Our time had been so occupied by the other experiences we didn't really have the opportunity to enjoy the retreat as we should. Hence we shall return. If for no other reason than to have a drink and a chat with Rick and Cathy, the owners. We met them in the first year of the plague (2020) when even interstate travel had been curtailed. We were restricted to NSW and ended up at Maramara Resort on the Hawkesbury River, an experience not be repeated (click here) . It was there we met Rick and Cathy, South Australians, who were stranded by their state as the borders "slammed shut" as media, devoid of imagination, have described it. Meeting them was probably the highlight of our time there because they told us about their luxury accommodation on another river.
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| Our last sunset at The Frames |
Reluctantly, we drove out of the gate and turned towards the Heading Cliffs that we enjoyed from river level yesterday. There was a lookout structure on the cliff top and we thought that it might be interesting to see the other view. Great in theory. The view from water level is far superior. You get a much better idea of the structure of the cliffs and can see their colour change with the light. Not to mention getting up close and personal with the peregrine falcons. None of that was evident from the cliff top. The morning was quite fresh after the storm that blew through yesterday, although I was still dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. I thought I had seriously misjudged the weather when we arrived at the lookout to see two people walking across the car park in long trousers and puffy jackets. Queenslanders. Pfft. No idea of cold weather. It was 18°C.
The other most notable feature of the lookout was the proliferation of 'lovelocks' that had been attached to the wire fence around the top level of the lookout tower. Having initially experienced this phenomenon on the bridges across the Seine River in Paris almost a decade ago, we were amused to see the locks on the tower and can only assume the keys have been hurled over the Heading Cliffs, although they would have to have a good arm to actually get them into the Murray. Not such a Herculean feat to drop the key off the Pont Neuf into the Seine. Perhaps a metaphor for the strength and depth of the love that one can find in the Riverlands...
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| Heading Cliffs from the lookout |
Back to the car for the drive to the Barossa Novotel Resort. I have looked at the word 'resort' with much suspicion for many years. Generally it means there is a pool and maybe a tennis court. It has often been used to upmarket something and turn into it something else. Two expressions come to mind: lipstick on a pig and you can't polish a ... decorum ensures I am unable to finish that expression.
The Resort is nicely situated on the side of a hill overlooking grape vines (I know, who'd have thought?) and the Jacob's Creek winery in the distance. A pleasant afternoon can be whiled away on the balcony with glass in hand. Local produce only, of course. The rooms themselves have been refurbed recently. New bathroom, carpet, drapes and appliances in the kitchenette, benchtop and so on. But (there's always a but isn't there, my astute reader?), the glass door to the balcony could only be moved with the greatest of difficulty and much noise. No not from my exertions, from the broken rollers clattering on the deeply furrowed track. The screen door wasn't much better. It's the little things that make a big difference.
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| Another room with a view |
After having driven for a large part of the day, we decided for convenience, to eat at the Resort's Cellar Restaurant. It has quite favourable reviews. Once again, not quite on point. The menu we perused prior to dinner on their online compendium bore no resemblance to what we were presented with at the table. Nonetheless, a first world problem, if ever there was one. The menu wasn't as expansive as the wine list, well the red wines. Four entrées, two of which were vegetarian, another steak tartare and fish. There was the usual assortment of mains and only two desserts. The food was well cooked and tasty, no complaints there, but Jayne's lamb was on the insubstantial side while the predominant element of the dish was the sea of pea velouté, upon which the two small strips of lamb floated.
The oddity of the evening was the waitress who wanted to be Jayne's best friend. Which brings us to today's title, Cheers, "where everyone knows your name". Well, they're making a good fist of it here too.
It would be an exaggeration to say I was ignored, but, I was definitely an afterthought. That's OK, I've been there before in work settings. Apparently the Resort is heading into hyper-conference mode on Thursday and it is going to be very crowded, hence the waitress wanted to get to know us amongst a crowd of conference delegates. She suddenly introduced herself (she was wearing a name tag), asked for Jayne's name and then after a short delay, turned to me. Her eyes said, "oh, are you still here?" but from her mouth, with complete disinterest, came the words, "and your name?", stating she would look forward to seeing us over the next few days. I remarked to Jayne that if I heard banjos playing in the hills tonight we would be out of here. The dining room is a vast expanse with a high pitched ceiling and little sound abatement. For the teachers amongst you, think a dining room on retreat/camp with Year 10. Yes, dear reader, it was loud. It gave me a headache and sent me back to our suite and the balcony where a nice red wine awaited. Although not before we stopped at reception to suggest the balcony doors should be repaired while we were out and about tomorrow.
Tomorrow brings a new day, new adventures and new wineries.
Until then.
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