A disclaimer to begin this blog.....I have not taken photos of the vineyards and wineries of the Margaret River region (with two most notable exceptions) on the basis of the fact that I am sure all readers from SA will be only too familiar with those scenes....and for any other dedicated followers of these missives not so privileged in life...my apologies. And for what it is worth, all of what we have seen in transit through the Margaret River area is so similar to the views through the wine regions of the Clare Valley as to be eerie.
Two major roads transit the countryside south of Busselton to Cape Leeuwin and Augusta, the Bussell Highway and the Caves Road. The Bussell takes travellers directly through the Margaret River township to the southern coast, whilst the Caves Road, which lies to the west of the Bussell Highway, provides access to the coastal townships south of Cape Naturaliste including Yallingup, Gracetown (the scene of the dreadful fatal shark attack last week) and Prevelly. Both routes provide direct and indirect access to the myriad of wineries of the Margaret River region, and also, in what was a real surprise for me, to a significant number of boutique breweries in which innovative brewmasters are concocting all manner of delightful tipples (The Bootleg's 'Raging Bull' dark ale is my choice to date...but I'm still working on others).
The Sandy Bay Holiday Village, some 6 kms west of the Busselton CBD and our former home at the Kookaburra, is now our base of operations. Pressure of bookings at the Kookaburra park was the predominant driver of this change. Although we miss the convenience of the Kookaburra's location, the Sandy Bay park, which is a mere 100 metres or so from the wonderful beach of Geographe Bay, has its own advantages, that being one of them.
Let me take you on a quick tour of our new 'home' before we venture further afield. The Sandy Bay Park is totally different from the Kookaburra. The entranceway and office are unpretentious and there are relatively few caravan sites.
This is a park of cabins (sorry, in WA they are know as 'chalets' which we think sounds a bit pretentious, but there you are) At Sandy Bay most are made of pressed earth
but there are also others with a much more 'Swiss' flavour). Semi-permanent sites also abound with only a limited number of tourist caravan sites.
We had first spotted this park when taking a constitutional along the coastal walkway during our stay at the Mandalay and decided then that it had promise. But we were also smart enough to make enquiries first hand before booking. There is only one decent site which is big enough to take our rig. Site 90 was duly selected, booked and now occupied by the Mobile Marshies for our remaining fortnight in Busso.
Here our trusty C-Gear flooring has come into its own. Sandy Bay is well named. The caravan sites are almost devoid of grass,
But it just wonderful to be able to pick up my rods and fishing bucket and take the mere two minute walk to the beach (that's the sea looking from the park entrance),
where, despite the predation of squadrons of minnows of varying species, I have managed to catch a few good feeds of tommies (sorry again...herring!) and sand whiting. I just love beach fishing (when there is a good reason to be doing it...namely catching something) and it doesn't come much better than Geographe Bay on a good day. For balance, I must confess that I've had a few less than good days when it has been fish...squillions...Marshie ...nil....but in a venue like this I become very forgiving!
Enough of our current domestic bliss. Off to Margaret River and places between here and there. We have already ventured a short way along the Caves Road to Yallingup, but I have decided to ignore chronology and present the various visits we made along this stretch as a separate blog when our exploration is complete.
'Cowaramup'....just try saying this quickly, or at all! Liz and I have struggled with the pronunciation of this town name ever since we arrived in Busso. Indeed a few of the locals have had a real chuckle at our expence listening to our mangled attempts, but I did feel vindicated when I later read on a sign in the town itself that, "As a slightly unusual and difficult name to pronounce, Cowaramup quickly became known as 'Cowtown'".
And indeed it is, but, in one of those really quirky Australiana tales which I just love, the formal name has nothing to do with our bovine companions. It actually originates from the local aboriginal word 'cowara'...their name for a lorikeet...and the word 'up' which means 'place of'. We were fooled for some time until properly educated. (what continues to stagger us is the proliferation of the suffix 'up' in town names in WA...treat yourself to a glance at the atlas from Perth down to the south-west at some stage...it is incredible)
In Cowaramup the locals have exploited its coincidental (to its name that is) connection with all things bovine.
A walk across the old stone bridge in this lovely town park
past this quaint Anglican Church nestled amongst the trees
takes one to the piece de resistance of Cowtown art......the colloquially known 'Rump on a Stump'. (note the more common of the heard grazing in the background)
What on earth is this all about is the obvious question, one which certainly exercised our minds. The answer lies in a mix of town history and very recent events.
Cowaramup was originally settled in the 1920's as part of the Government's 'Group Settlement Scheme'. This entailed providing groups of families (usually ranging between 15-25) land grants for specific ventures.....in the case of Cowaramup it was dairying (and the coincidental connection between its name and its industry was born)
The demands of the local and interstate railway developments also saw the birth of a flourishing local timber industry. Karri trees (the sharp amongst you will realize I misspelled this name in a previous blog....a rare admission of inaccuracy!) were felled for railway sleepers and other uses. I was fascinated to read that many of the sleepers were exported to a number of overseas countries, carried as ballast in the sailing ships which transported them. Some were actually used to refurbish the lines blown up by Laurence of Arabia, and karri blocks were laid in the streets of London's Piccadilly, Pall Mall and Regent Street. To think, I've actually walked on them many years ago!
But, as we all know, trees like the karri take years to grow, and by the 1970's the local forests had all been felled which saw the demise of the timber industry. However, all was not lost. The ground cleared by the felling had been given over to other uses.....continuing dairying, beef, sheep and pig production and, of course, vineyards and a burgeoning wine industry. Indeed, in our travels through this region we have noted with interest the highly productive hay paddocks and the herds and herds of dairy cattle in addition to the vines.
OK, so cows have been an integral part of Cowaramup's development....big deal...this is no different to many other country towns....so why the 'moo art'?
For many years Cow Parades have been staged all over the world in major cities...Paris, London, New York and Tokyo (of course you knew that...doesn't everyone?...I had certainly never heard of them before). In any event, not to be outdone, some bright spark got the idea that the Margaret River region should join in. So, in 2010, a hundred fibre glass cows were built and decorated by local artists before being auctioned off for charity.
This was to be that. Not so, said a couple of local Cowtown luminaries. With the Rump on the Stump installed in the town park, 42 cows and calves were moved to Cowaramup, repainted as Friesians (the local dairy beast of choice) and dotted all through the township.
Everywhere! Once again I had to exercise editorial restraint.
The statues have all been sponsored by local industries or private individuals,
The statues have all been sponsored by local industries or private individuals,
and are tagged accordingly.
On our visit, the approach of the Festive Season was clearly evident. As if the cows themselves were not enough, many were dressed for the occasion. Of them all this was by far our favourite.
And this play on words continued on the other side of the 'reindeer's' coat.
Never let it be said that the citizens of 'Cowtown' let any opportunity slip. They exploit the theme to its fullest and, from what we saw, with great wit.
We decided that Cowaramup is a town in which we would get on famously with the locals but we didn't have time to find the pub.
Margaret River, I am sure, is synonymous to you all with fine wine and all that goes with it. Yet, unlike many of the SA wine regions, the development of this industry in the Margaret River area is relatively recent.
And yes, there actually is a 'Margaret River' (here looking upstream from a foot bridge)
As stated in one of the tourist information booklets we seem to collect in droves, "in the late 1960's when Dr John Gladstone proclaimed Margaret River a viticultural paradise... the region underwent a profound change. Within two years vines were planted at Vasse Felix and by the early 1970's other pioneering wine producers such as Moss Wood, Cullen and Cape Mentelle emerged. Over the last few decades viticulture has transformed the landscape and brought significant wealth to the area. It is now the main industry and an enormous source of pride from the community."
Prior to this development and its extraordinary expansion, Margaret River, beyond its early agricultural and timber industry days, was a haven for surfies and artisans of varying degrees of skill and social grace.....almost a western version of early Byron Bay I suspect. As we later discovered, the area does hold a good surf break. The remnants are still evident where those sporting dreadlocks and flowing clothes rub shoulders with the wine makers, the farmers, the earnest seekers after vinous excellence and the inevitable globs of over dressed and over loud Gen Y's and the faux rich who sadly infest all such areas as this, loudly braying their lack of any real knowledge for all to hear (and cringe away from). You know the type!
One thing the tourist blurb doesn't mention about Margaret River is the marron.....the biggest marron on earth I am sure. Liz was the first to spot them. She couldn't believe the size and neither could I. I tried desperately to get a photo of this monster with a nearby swimming duck to provide perspective, but neither would oblige. Suffice it to say we conservatively estimated this chap's length at 30+cms. Some yabby! And it was not alone.
As you could imagine, my mind turned immediately to capture and to the obvious question as to how these fellows could have survived here. A nearby sign soon caught my attention and all became clear. You can buy a lot of marron for $5,000.
The river lies in the valley at the northern edge of the township. A well maintained park with BBQ's, a playground, toilets and an information bay greets visitors coming in on the Bussell,
where a relic of Margaret River's past is also on display. 'Kate', this tiny steam locomotive which looks almost like an overgrown kids' toy, arrived in Margaret River in 1890, where, for the next 20 years it was used to haul logs. In 1917 it was taken to Wyndham where it continued to puff along until retired in 1950. It now stands as a memorial to those many folk who laboured in the timber industry in Margaret River's development years.
So, on to the township itself. We wandered south out of the river valley into the main street where the first impressive building of some obvious antiquity we came across is now a very fancy Italian restaurant and guest house. We were surprised to read on a sign at the front of the building that it actually began life as a coach staging house run by the Higgins family who arrive in Augusta from England in 1830.
Just beyond this point we came to what is the beginning of the main street which climbs off to the south from this somewhat imposing pizzeria, 'Goodfellas'. I suppose the owners fancied the play on words in their choice of a name, but why anyone would want to choose the colloquial name for an American Mafia mobster for a restaurant is beyond me. (mind you, Liz had never heard of it)
The streetscape of the main drag in Margaret River was, for both of us, a little nondescript, with one exception, the Margaret River Hotel.
The photo does not do real justice to this grand hotel, which extends further along the street and for almost a block to the rear. This is what we had expected to find, but that was it.
We continued our ramble to the southern end of the main street past cafes, clothing stores, restaurants of varying styles, wine and bottle shops and just about all one would expect to find on the main street in a tourist driven town. I am not sure what either of us anticipated, but I have to say Margaret River itself was, for us, something of a non-event. I should add that this is an observation rather than a criticism. We were to later learn that the flash B&B's and the up-market wineries and so on are all in the surrounding countryside. (more of that later)
And now a small indulgence in one of my favourite tourist pastimes.....clever signs. Here the good business folk of MR did not disappoint. The first of many I spotted was in the very well laid out (and very commercial...what would you expect?) information centre.
The next to attract my attention was in the front window of the shoe store. I need a new pair of boat shoes...and these were my preferred brand. I was nearly hooked!
And finally, words of complete wisdom on a nearby cafe. As I took this shot, the employee who actually inscribes these witticisms on the front window was sitting nearby eating his lunch. He was tickled to discover that his wit (well, probably his plagiarism being more to the point) was appreciated even if we did not indulge in what was on offer inside.
The southern end of the main street ends in one of Margaret River's numerous small and pleasant parks. From here we retraced our steps and called it a tourism day.
Another part of the Margaret River area jigsaw was in place. All that now remains is the Caves Road, the towns of the south-western coast and Cape Leeuwin, where the Southern and Indian Oceans meet.
No comments:
Post a Comment