28 August 2013 - Discovery Parks Clare, Clare, South Australia

The day dawned cold, 3 degrees outside and not much more inside the caravan. Clear blue skies promised the most perfect spring day and did not disappoint. By early afternoon the temperature was up to 20 degrees and we were stripping off some of our outer layers.

Chris paid for a further day while I hung a load of washing out in the sunshine, confident that it would all be dried by the time we returned from our day’s touring.

Our list of attractions to be “done” today covered places more to the north of the Clare Valley today and some off the map. We had been keen to find out more about the world’s largest direct solar “water farm” where “cutting edge technology is used in the process of desalination of farm water with zero liquid discharge.” This is located at Glendalough Estate, one of the many vineyards in the Armagh valley, two kilometres from Clare, a boutique winery set on fifty acres of undulating vineyards and olive groves. Admission to the property is free, obviously in the hope one feels duty bound to buy a bottle of their best. We arrived after the opening hour of 10 am, but the gates were firmly shut confirmed with the “Closed” sign. We drove on somewhat disappointed, regaining the road to Blyth, a farming service centre thirteen kilometres to the west.

The road rose a little and we turned to follow the signs to Brooks Lookout, from where we were delighted with expansive views over a patchwork of intensively cropped plains. The plains seen from this spot were first viewed by Europeans in 1842 when David Hughes passed by and named them Jacob’s Plains. The Hundred of Blyth was surveyed in 1860, although in 1853 fifteen of those German families who came with the Jesuits settled at Benbournie Springs, three and a half kilometres to the north. The township of Blyth was surveyed in 1865 and for many years served as the railhead from Adelaide via Balaklava. And with mention of Balaklava, I noted this morning while examining the map, that  yesterday at Auburn, we were only about thirty kilometres from a spot we camped at nearly a couple of years ago, at The Rocks just beyond Balaklava.

Views west from Brooks Lookout

The land from the hills to two kilometres west of Blyth was originally grassland with scattered shrubs, and is now apparently amongst the best cereal and legume cropping lands in South Australia. Further west, the mallee scrub was extensively cleared for cereal cropping and other mixed farming pursuits. 

From where we stood looking to the west, we could see the Black Range, and ten kilometres beyond, the Hummocks and Barunga Ranges. The Hummocks rise to 416 metres ASL, sixteen metres higher than where we were currently standing on the North Mt Lofty Ranges. Blyth lay directly beneath us at 190 metres ASL. Interestingly Blyth enjoys an average annual rainfall of 420 mm, much lower than Clare Valley area which receives an average of 550mm, which explains the fact that grapes and olives thrive here and grain and legumes prefer the lower plains.

We didn’t hang about as long as we would have liked; the flies were out in force and they do nothing for one’s temper, so we hurried back to the landcruiser and made our way down another access track to the main road on to Blyth.

Artwork in Blyth

At Blyth we pulled into a little park, fenced with a series of steel panels depicting facets of the area’s history. Photos were used in the design and a sheet metal laser cutter was used to cut out the scenes. A small note on the explanatory sign advertises the fact that designs are available for purchase and would be ideal as farm entrance gates or the like. They would be indeed, and this was one of those rare moments I regretted that we were simply passing through and without a property here in South Australia, or anywhere in Australia for that matter. I rather fancied a gate in this style.

Nowadays many different grains are grown on the plains, as well as faba beans which we had come upon when we travelled about the Yorke Peninsula, not really that far away. We were glad to have this identified because we had spent the last week trying to guess at the lentil crop seen from the road.

I was also interested to see reference to the “Weckert Farm” which suggested that this was a descendant of the Weikert who led the Jesuit party out all those years ago, still farming in the area after all this time.

After spending some time admiring these fabulous metal panels, we drove around the town, a very tidy rural service centre which has moved with the times. Those ancient buildings still standing are in good repair but not housing the trendy cafes or B&Bs; this is not a town for such.

We returned to Clare, picked up a few provisions from the Woolworths supermarket, although not too many, knowing that we are just days away from yet another quarantine check point, and headed back to camp for lunch.

Back up hill at Spring Gully

After lunch we set off once more, this time up the hill to the west of the camp and along a ridge until we arrived at the Spring Gully Conservaton Park. We parked, changed our shoes and set off along the Cascade Walk, which turned out to be down the other side of the range toward the plains. The park is a grassed open woodland, an island in the midst of that which  has been manipulated to meet the demands of agriculture in one shape or form. The path was in fact an old road way, although, as I said, down hill. We were treated to galahs, crows, magpies and one tawny frogmouth, that last a rare treat because they are so difficult to  detect. Across the fence, sheep made their way down the hill across from us and we thought the whole scene quite delightful. It had taken us twenty minutes to descend and took some time longer for the return. At the top we sat for a while at a picnic table, silent but enjoying the birdcall all around us and the distant views of those cropped plains below through the trees.

This particular lookout offered views even better; the head of the Gulf St Vincent, the northern reaches of the York Peninsula and a shining white settlement near the seashore, most likely Port Wakefield.

Once rested, we headed to the other access to the park and drove up along the Ridgetop Track until we arrived at a locked gate. From there we continued on foot for twenty minutes through a much denser wood growth of stringy bark gums. We startled a small mob of kangaroos and upset a colony of magpies who had been listening to a lone youthful maggie auditioning. The audience fled leaving the absorbed bird on the path in front of us until he woke from his revelry and followed suit. As we proceeded along the ridge, we could see through the screen of trees views both to the west and east, down to the plains and across to the vineyards and other holdings on the slopes of the Clare Valley.

Well exercised, we resumed our drive, returning to the Main North Road and heading north to the caravan park.

Back home I dealt with the washing, caught up with Olly’s two little boys before bed on Skype and we listened to the campaigning party leaders attempt to convince undecided voters in West Sydney that they were the answer to their prayers. Tomorrow we will head out of town, back on the road again.

We have thoroughly enjoyed our stay in Clare and while the area has much in common with the Barossa Valley closer to Adelaide, with the history of the early settlements, German and otherwise, wine production and tourist accommodation and upmarket cafe and restaurants, we prefer the Clare Valley; it appeals to a wider audience, not just the yuppy tourists, and is geographically more intimate. But then, I guess, that is all a matter of opinion.