Late afternoon and the sun is still shining brightly with a fair amount of heat in it. It would be nice to be sitting under the awning in the shade; however the incessant breeze plays havoc with newspaper reading. We are also indulging in some Pavarotti, an excellent set of CDs purchased today in our travels. Up in the tree outside, our resident koala is sleeping, stretched out with complete abandon, but still beyond clear photographic reach of my simple camera. There are very few times I envy the fancy but bulky lenses of more sophisticated cameras; this is one of them.
As we sat over breakfast this morning and checked yesterday’s paper for the long range weather forecast, we decided that today might be the last of the excellent weather for a while and better to sightsee rather than spend the day in galleries and museums. So again, with lunch packed, we headed off this time into the Adelaide Hills, or should I say, further into the hills since we are already there.
Our first port of call was the summit of Mount Lofty, 710 metres above sea level. There is a lovely Information Centre cum café there, with a large terrace from where one can enjoy expansive views over Adelaide and the valley to the east. A large column stands on this terrace as a memorial to Matthew Flinders who spotted Mount Lofty from Kangaroo Island at the base of Gulf St Vincent on his travels in 1802. I have to say that I am quite ignorant about this Captain Flinders and his exploits but given the number of places named after him, I should remedy that. It is obviously a gap in my education or general knowledge. When I do, be sure I will share that with you and you can either take advantage of the abbreviated history lesson or skip quickly to the next more interesting bit.
Mt Lofty has been devastated twice in recent memory by terrible bushfires, in 1980 and 1983. Chris says he remembers them distinctly; I do not. In 1980 I was busy coping with motherhood in what was then the New Hebrides and life revolved only around our own lives and the local political upheavals. In 1983 I was re-establishing my life back in New Zealand and far too self-centred to be concerned with matters across the Tasman. What a narrow world I lived in!
We descended the summit and travelled northwards through the charming Piccadilly Valley with its vineyards and orchards, through Summertown, Uraldia, Ashton, Norton Summit, then down steeply to the canyon carved out by the Torrens River, by way of a road named Corkscrew for all the obvious reasons. It was no surprise that long vehicles were discouraged from using this road. This part of the range is very steep and rugged, and populated by those who choose to live in the cooler hills rather than the heat of the city. There were pockets of viticulture in unlikely gullies, however most had been sensibly left in their natural state, or as much as bushfires over the years can leave Australian hills.
After driving up the side of the Kangaroo Creek Reservoir where we were unable to find any recreational access, we stopped at the Veteran’s Hall at Cudlee Creek to have lunch. The Torrens River is such a mucky puddle; it is hard to believe that it has managed to carve such an impressive gorge through the hills over the millenniums. But then one must remember that much of it has been held back in reservoirs and syphoned off for use elsewhere. Chris says he remembers the water supply in Adelaide back in the early 1970s as being quite putrid; left to sit in a glass, leaving sediment and still unclear, tasting even viler than it looked. Now, as it was then, much of Adelaide’s water is piped from the Murray River and purification systems have greatly improved all round.
We popped up to Chain of Ponds, simply an intersection with nothing to show why it is so named, and in doing so touched the circle of travel we had done from Gawler, in the same fashion we do when we walk to the end of a beach and touch the cliff face to say we went the whole way. Childish habits to entertain perhaps, but proof that we are not too old and stuffy, yet. From there we headed through to Lobethal, a town of about 1,850 inhabitants, settled in 1842 by Prussian immigrants. Like the German immigrant towns through the Barossa and Eden valleys, there are many charming buildings about, however the town as a whole does not offer the same delightful atmosphere as the others we have seen. I must however mention the delightful roses blooming in nearly all the private gardens. After weeks of arid lands, green lawns and colourful flower gardens are a novelty.
It became famous for the Onkaparinga Woollen Mill, which like all mills closed its doors in time. Now those same buildings are used by a number of small businesses, including boutique wine cellars and a microbrewery. Along one large brick wall are about half a dozen charming collage murals. Chris thought their simplicity or rather their bad artistry, unattractive; I thought them very appropriate, the use of fabrics to celebrate the buildings former use.
Today the town promotes itself as the ultimate destination for Christmas light shows. The Lobethal Lights Festival officially commences on 11th of this month, and there are signs even today warning of the traffic control provisions that will be in place to cope with all those from Adelaide who will drive out in the evenings to enjoy the spectacle. In the meantime the shops and businesses along the main street are well decorated with large lanterns and other paraphernalia that leave no one in doubt that Christmas is just around the corner. And just in case one hadn’t noticed the town was not renowned for its lights, many of the businesses have names to remind one, such as the “Amberlight Motorcycle Café” and the “Lobethal Hotel, the Bright Spot”.
Here in the town also is a reminder that it is home to the Lobethal Grand Carnival. In 2009 it celebrated the great motor race seventy years ago when the race was first won by a driver in an MG. There are memorial plaques and several old classic cars in a garage window to make sure this great event is not forgotten.
And even more importantly one of the stages of the Santos Tour Down Under cycle race will be raced through here in January next year. Lobethal is making sure it is not forgotten even if the mill is long gone.
After walking up and down the otherwise deserted street, and purchasing a newspaper and this wonderful CD collection we are currently listening to from the newsagent, we resumed our drive, on through Woodside, more lovely in our opinion that Lobethal, and on to Balhannah. The land all around here is rolling and fertile, with vineyards and orchards everywhere. We stopped at the Olde Apple Shed and purchased some cherries at an exorbitant price. The elderly salesman tempted us with these sweet jewels when we expressed disappointment that they were only sold in kilo packs. Perhaps $14 odd per kilo is normal for cherries; they are not part of our normal shopping. In fact, I am not sure if I have ever bought them! We left the roadside stall with half a kilo and will enjoy everyone, no matter what!
From Balhannah, it was not far through to Verdun, and then on to the Freeway back up to the Crafers off-ramp and home to our koala. It had been an excellent day, again!
No comments:
Post a Comment