If I only had a heart (Barossa to Mt Lofty House)

Good morning, dear reader. It is our last day in the Barossa and I decided to do the 'tourist' thing and capture my own sunrise over the vines. Alas and alack, the positioning of our unit and a rather large gum tree thwarted my efforts. My morning adventure offered nothing more than a still morning, bird song and some distant colour in the sky. Despite popular belief, there are no points for trying, so I turned my attention to Wordle and Quordle instead, lest I disturb Jayne, whose lack of belief in sunrise as a concept continues unabated.

Today's title is one from the classics, The Wizard of Oz, 1939, even before I was born. All shall become clear my dear reader.

A musk lorikeet

As we sat on our balcony late yesterday afternoon we were assailed by the arrival of some new "guests". Oh dear. The noise. The cacophony. The effrontery. They are staying several units away but were SO LOUD. With children. Had I sufficient voice projection, I could have easily participated in their, um, conversation. If that is what it could be called. I do hope Roland behaved himself; he sounded like he could be in trouble. Perhaps if he didn't behave, his mother would sing louder. If that was humanly, or inhumanly possible. Shudder. It was like people trying to have a quiet chat - across a river valley, punctuated by a very bad attempt at an operatic aria.

Even the galahs were frightened of Roland's mother

After surveying the travel route today, we decided we could visit one more winery (sorry not Hentley Farm Brendo). Turkey Flat fit the bill nicely. It was close by, they do a lovely rosé and also have some other interesting wines. Most importantly after the debacle of Rockford, they take bookings.

They do big bottles

Another treasure. An interesting array of wines, some of which you could taste side-by-side. The Marsanne Roussanne Viognier was one such wine. We sampled the 2021 and then the 2010 vintage appeared. Wow. The rewards of patient cellaring. A big tick next to that one on the tasting list. The rosé is an old favourite (cheers Vikki & DJ) and did not disappoint. The reds were also good although some were sold out. Good for them, not so much for us.

At the bottom of the list was a Pedro Ximénez, delicious, and a Quinquina. The latter is a vermouth style made with Marsanne grapes. It's a vermouth so you can play with it. On the rocks, add soda, add dehydrated orange slices (this is a real thing around here - if it is fruit, they will dehydrate it and stick in jars), add pink grapefruit juice, choose your own adventure. A rival to the current gin craze. The Gin Austen Book Club will be sampling some in the near future.

We could have spent longer at Turkey Flat but they were being inundated by people who hadn't booked a tasting. Like really? Did they think they were at Rockfords? One group of six, in a minibus, who had not booked in, arrived and were disconcerted by the wait time and left. They missed out. Um, hello, how about, get your shit together and make bookings in advance, so then a winery can put on sufficient staff to cater to the crowd - and some unexpected arrivals.

Wine ordered, we drove to a landmark we have passed multiple times a day since we've been here. The Tinman, hence today's title. Yes, we saw him and immediately went on the lookout for the Lion and Scarecrow or even Dorothy. We even chanted, lions and tigers and bears, oh my. They did not show either. As it turns out, the Tinman was the entrance to some children's park, that no longer exists, but he still clings on to his power pole with his axe. Apparently at other times he gets dressed in costume. Santa and stuff. Like Santa wouldn't be scary, carrying an axe eh? Nope. Totally cool.

There were no lions or tigers or bears.

Leaving behind their localised version of Pennywise, we drove to Lyndoch for lunch. This time to The Table. The wonderful Sanna had mentioned it when we visited Brothers at War yesterday. It did not disappoint. An interesting range of café and traditional pub food. We had the best steamed prawn dumplings for entrée and then, moving to boring old couple mode, we followed that up with a BLT. Be fair, all local produce. Very tasty.

Yum!

Back in the car and getting closer to our final destination for the next couple of days, Mt Lofty House, we left the navigation decisions to Apple Maps. What? I hear you shouting my exasperated reader. I know, I know. In the grand scheme of life, it's only time we wasted and we did see places we would never have seen. I didn't even know banjos were still a thing.

Despite our robotic navigator, we did arrive at Mt Lofty House. It is as impressive as it is confusing when you first arrive. To compensate for your disorientation, the staff are lovely. Everywhere. On every level. And offer help and assistance wherever you are. Even if it is not required, although mostly it is.

The rear entrance

After our orientation tour, we collected our bags and returned to our room to enjoy our 'welcome drink' and homemade choc chip cookies, their words not mine. Boo to American cultural imperialism. They were really nice though, cookie or biscuit. 

We didn't have much time to relax before it was time for our "hosted masterclass tailored for wine lovers". Not quite what one was expecting, dear reader. However, the delightful Amanda introduced us to three different wines all with grapes of Spanish origin: albarino, grenache and graciano. While we were familiar with grenache, especially after four days in the Barossa, we'd sampled albarino a few times before, but graciano was entirely new. It was an interesting experience. The cellar, where we did the tasting was amazing. I wouldn't mind spending some time there unsupervised.

A true picture window

The concept of dinner tonight did not sit well with us. Lunch had been more than enough sustenance for the day. The bar area, which has a picture window, literally, overlooking the valley, also served light meals. Allegedly. There was nothing particularly light on the menu and, after discussion with one of the staff, we ordered one pasta meal to be shared. Nothing is too difficult here, nothing is a problem. They really do go out their way to make your stay as carefree as possible. For me, this has not gone unnoticed.

As the sun set on the other side of the house, we enjoyed great service, great food and great wine. And there is the story for today - the wine we had at dinner. The wine list is expansive. We called for Amanda. She arrived, asked what we were eating and suggested two wines, one French, the other from the Barossa. We bristled when it was revealed the Barossa one was a ... wait for it ... (cue dramatic music) ... a Rockford.

The view across the garden

Jayne has yet to forgive Rockford, so we weren't keen to drink their wine, but Amanda insisted on a tasting and produced the two bottles and one of those nifty coravin contraptions. The wine was tasted. Now, we love all things French as you know, dear reader. Tonight, the Rockford was a clear and decisive winner. Jayne begrudgingly allowed the Rockford GSM to grace our table. Damn nice drop, a pity they can't be better organised otherwise we would probably have some of their wine winging its way home to Sydney.

Wine chosen, dinner arrived and we sat quietly in the picture window enjoying our meal, the wine and the evening, watching a wedding happen in another part of the House. As close to perfection as you can get.

Then it was time to check our four poster bed for real.

Tomorrow could be anything, but I'm predicting a lazy day. Potentially we won't communicate for a few days. It's almost time to return to rainy, sodden Sydney. Oh, joy.

Until next time.

Dazed and Confused (Barossa Valley)

And so to our penultimate day in the Barossa. A day carefully planned and executed. The plan dear reader was a late breakfast, drop in to Brothers at War, see the sculptures, lunch and visit one winery, officially the last on our list.

We commenced strongly, sleeping late and lingering over our breakfast, completing those important world tasks, Wordle and Quordle. Once the mundane chores were out of the way, we drove to Tanunda to pop into Brothers at War. You see dear reader, as I was finalising yesterday's post, I realised that I did know the name of the lovely lady who gave us so much of her time yesterday. A return visit was a must.

Sanna greeted us warmly once again and we revelled in the Bunnies victory of last evening. Then she suggested we try a wine that wasn't available yesterday. A 2020 single vineyard Grenache. I'm sure it has another name like 'He hit me first' or 'I didn't start it', but regardless it was another stunning wine - yet to be Halliday rated but a trend has emerged. We sadly farewelled Sanna, it was like leaving an old friend ... not that Sanna is old.  We are old, she is young.

We had passed the turn off to the Barossa Sculpture Park every time we drove to or from the Resort so we were reasonably sure no GPS advice was required. We turned towards Bethany and drove past Turkey Flat vineyard and then through Bethany. No signage, no sight of a sculpture or park. On we drive and we were now heading for the Barossa Hills. Maybe check the GPS. All good, we were yet to arrive.

The park is actually at the Menglers Hill lookout. Culture and views. They have it all in South Australia. The views back over the Barossa are quite something, I climbed the hill at the Resort to take the corresponding shots this afternoon. The sculptures dear reader... you want to know about the sculptures. Hmmm, well, there's nothing like modern sculpture to make you feel inadequate and to reinforce how little you do know, about anything. There were two plaques that listed the sculptures, their titles and the names of the creators. Each had a corresponding picture, you know, for the philistines and non-art lovers who wouldn't know a Koons from a Gober. They are the names of contemporary sculptors dear reader, Google them. I did, for obvious reasons.

The view from the top.

Not to boast but I recognised two of the art works, one of Persephone and another, a local indigenous work of the head of a parrot. A dreaming piece. Aside from that, well, whatever.  I read the titles and it still didn't help.

Persephone

The dreaming

While Jayne was waiting on the wall above the sculpture garden and I was wandering around, dazed and confused, camera in hand, a tour bus arrived and the guide was overheard to explain the 'concept' behind the park. Apparently it was thought an excellent idea to hold a sculpture competition, until the sculptures arrived and were judged. Awkward silence, shuffling of feet, eyes cast downwards ... um, so, now what do we do with them? It's almost a scene that could come from The Castle (Google it millennials). And so the Sculpture Park was born, a sufficient distance from town so as not to cause angst.

No doubt, dear reader, you picked up today's title reference. Dazed and Confused a classic song from 1969 from the equally classic rock band, Led Zeppelin. For the purpose of educating the young ones out there, click here and turn the volume up. One day I'll do a dummy link to Bing Crosby.

Three from three, so far on our list. Next stop Lyndoch, for lunch at the Lord Lyndoch Hotel. There's not a lot going on at Lyndoch but there are a couple of good places to eat - The Lord Lyndoch and just across the road,  The Table. Today we opted for a pub lunch, if for no other reason than we were amazed at the offerings of the pubs when we visited 40 years ago.

Lunch was a mammoth affair. Extremely large serving sizes. I have never been brought to an eating standstill by a chicken schnitty. Until today. It was massive. I would not want to run into a chicken of that size at night. Jayne had pork ribs, the half serve, and was pleased with that choice. We did commence with garlic sourdough and croquettes, so that didn't help, but wow, big serves. The staff were also very lovely and welcoming. We had a chat with one of the owners about a photo that adorned the wall above where we were sitting - an enlarged shot of Dove Lake with Cradle Mountain (TAS) in the background. He and his wife are bushwalkers. Extra points there. Well from me.

Just as an aside, I'm not sure how my body is going to cope when we're back home and into the cycling/swimming regime again. Lycra is not a flattering fabric...

I digress. Back to the car and the drive to Rockford Wines. We drove into the carpark around 3:00pm. There were people moving around to the tasting room and more people coming in behind us. No booking necessary the website proclaimed. Hmmm. In the covid age? Having achieved four from four on our task list, five from five was looking decidedly shaky. And so it proved.

There were people milling around the compound, waiting for orders to be filled or waiting for a space in the tasting room. As we entered the courtyard, it was difficult to process what was happening. Had someone emerged from one of the buildings, in period costume, leading a cow on a rope, I would not have batted an eye. Dazed and confused again. We headed for an open door which proved to be the tasting room. Winning. Not so fast. There were two couples inside, tasting wine - shocking I know and totally unexpected. Basically we were in the right place at the wrong time and had to go outside and find someone with a clipboard who would tell us how long the wait would be.

We returned to daylight and saw said man with clipboard. He was not there when we came in. I would have noticed - he was wearing a brown shirt. A brown shirt. A quick reconnoître showed a family of five waiting for a tasting. There was another couple who had actually come in behind us but clearly knew how things operated here, and so were now ahead of us. So we would be next. Probably a minimum wait of an hour, excluding any waiting people, already sitting around the out buildings. Now I love my wine dear reader, but as you know, I am no fan of queueing. I queue for no one or nothing. We were out of there. Sadly Rockford will remain a mystery, but you know, we will always have Brothers at War. Sigh.

Back at the Resort, I walked up to the high ground for a photo opportunity and then we repaired to the balcony to relax, drink wine and soak up the view. Not a bad day, 4 out 5 tasks achieved. We discussed attempting Rockford tomorrow, but no. They are undeserving. Yes, COVID has changed our world and forced many wineries to introduce bookings and limits on numbers. A booking system would appear to be common sense, so not to have that and then turn people away is not good customer practice or good business. I can't remember the last winery we visited where we didn't buy at least six bottles. Their loss.

It has dawned on me that I didn't mention the facilities guys putting bird boxes into the trees behind our accommodation block at the Resort. This happened the day we arrived and I was somewhat bemused at the fact that they just nailed them to the tree, literally, at the highest point they could reach from ground level. To date, no bird has shown interest - and is probably unlikely to. Alas, we'll never know because we'll never be back to the Resort. More on that in the final wrap in a few days.

See the bird box? Look closer.

Tomorrow is our last day in the Barossa. We may visit another winery, at this point we are undecided. Otherwise it is a transit day as we head for Mt Lofty House to cap off a great, long-awaited trip to South Australia. Mt Lofty holds many exciting experiences in store for us: cheese tasting, a wine appreciation (don't laugh dear reader, it is unbecoming) afternoon and dinner at the Hardy's Verandah Restaurant. All to be looked forward to as we look at Rockford Wines in our rear vision mirror.

Our friend on our last afternoon

I make no promises about a post for tomorrow, given the transitory nature of the day.