From the Margaret River Chocolate Company
The Margaret River region of Western Australia is a food lover’s heaven.
We spent four days there—eating and drinking our way through some very special offerings. Highlights included two outstanding lunches at famous vineyards, and free tastings of superb wines and cheeses, as well as a variety of sensational game meats. I promise to share some of these gastronomic memories.
But because it’s Easter Sunday, I thought today’s priority had to be the chocolate makers.
We visited two—Gabriel Chocolate and the Margaret River Chocolate Company.
Gabriel Chocolate
Gabriel’s is particularly special. They are Western Australia’s first (and perhaps only) bean-to-bar chocolate maker. This means they start with raw cocoa beans and take them right through to a finished chocolate bar. Every day, they hand-sort the beans, then roast, winnow, grind, conch and temper in small batches to produce handmade chocolate bars. They also make luxurious chocolate soaps.
A proud and informative chocolate maker at Gabriel's
Gabriel’s works with chocolate sourced from the world’s top cacao bean regions—including Venezuela, Ghana, Java and Madagascar.
Poor John—who loves chocolate more than anyone I know—treated himself to the top-of-the-line bar. It’s made of beans sourced from Venezuela. It is dark chocolate, 85 per cent cacao, and A$12 for 85 grams (about 3 ounces).
Margaret River Chocolate Company
The next day, we visited The Margaret River Chocolate Company. It is a much bigger operation, and more into melting chocolate and then making it into confectionary products.
A bit of the huge array at the Margaret River Chocolate Company
I was gobsmacked by the sheer size of the shop (located almost in the middle of nowhere) and the overwhelming range of items it carries.
Poor John was delighted to learn that they were having an all-day Easter egg hunt. Within minutes, he found one of the tokens out in the garden, but when he took it in, he was disappointed to be told that the game was for kiddies only. The poor thing!
After passing the oversized semis a couple of times in South Australia, we took a detour to visit Streaky Bay on the western edge of the Eyre Peninsula. This bay is very protected and it’s hard to imagine that just around a rather large headland or two is the often-wild Great Southern Ocean.
While on a voyage in 1802, Matthew Flinders visited and named the bay because he noticed that the water was discoloured by streaks. It is now thought these streaks are caused by the release of oils by certain species of seaweed in the bay.
Poor John’s brother suggested the stop because he thought we’d like the food at the local hotel—he was right—but he never mentioned the great photos I’d get there.
We spent the night at one of the local campgrounds—no free camping allowed in the area—and ended up with a site right on the shore.
We’re early risers so I was the first camper up and out, with camera in hand, to catch a few snaps of a spectacular sunrise. A local fellow and his dog kindly appeared, and added just the right touch.
After we packed up our gear, we had another look around the town and jetty. The seagulls were most accommodating, bobbing and swirling around me. I also got a good laugh from the advice posted by the owner of a caravan (camper van). He isn’t going to be bullied into speeding.
A monster on the road
Not long after we saw the Big Galah in Kimba, South Australia, we encountered the biggest semi-trailer rig I’ve ever seen. In fact, there were two of them, but we didn’t realise that until the next day.
Each semi was hauling a huge piece of pipe, probably bound for one of the mines in Western Australia. The load was so wide that the semi ran down the middle of the road, meaning on-coming traffic had to pull off to the shoulder when it went by.
Poor John thought the rig shouldn’t be allowed on the road but, good grief, how else were they going to move that equipment?
Passing was a challenge, but not impossible.
The driver of the ‘pilot’ vehicle (there was also a lead vehicle driving about a kilometre in front of the big rig) had a great system for letting me know when it was safe to pass.
Obviously, he was in radio contact with the lead vehicle, so could ‘see’ what might lie ahead.
The first time I edged out to see around the pipe, the ‘pilot’ vehicle edged out in front of me. The second time I tried it, he did the same, so I realised he was making it clear that I was not to pass.
After a couple of kilometres, he suddenly put on his right turn indicator and I knew immediately that it was his way of signalling an all-clear ahead. I edged out and he waved me on, so I went like the clappers past him and the big fella.
It’s good that I figured out his signal so quickly because I reckon I passed these rigs about six times over two days. Poor John passed them a couple of times too.
We saw the last of them just after the Western Australian border when we decided to head down a dirt/gravel road to Hyden and the Wave Rock.
A couple of days later, we read in the newspaper that drivers for accompanying vehicles earn A$91 an hour. I wonder what the rig drivers get?
The Big Galah at Kimba, South Australia
Australia is huge, so maybe that explains why Australians are obsessed with big things. In fact, there are about 150 big things scattered across the country.
I’ve seen quite a few such as the Big Merino in Goulburn, the Big Banana in Coffs Harbour, the Big Bench in Broken Hill, the Big Lobster in Kingston and the Giant Murray Cod in Swan Hill. Now I’ve met another one that I never knew existed—the Big Galah.
Galahs are a gorgeous pink, white and grey variety of parrot that is native to Australia. They’re about 35 centimetres (14 inches) long and weigh 270–350 grams (9–12 ounces).
This bird is 8 metres (26 feet) tall and weighs about 2.3 tonnes. He was built in the early 1990s by Robert Venning, and is made from fibreglass over a steel frame. He lives in front of the Half Way Across Australia gem shop in Kimba, South Australia.
And why did I refer to him as a ‘silly galah’. It’s Australian slang for a foolish person—as in ‘don’t be a silly galah’.
Coming in to Iron Knob
We headed out of Adelaide* and drove north along Spencer Gulf.
There are no pics of this stretch. I took quite a few, but decided it was such a flat and featureless vista that I wouldn’t bore you with any.
As an aside, this should be called Spencer’s Gulf. Unfortunately, and quite a few years ago, Australia ditched the apostrophe and sometimes the accompanying ‘s’ in all its place names. I think this is a crime against grammar and, if I ever become the Wizard of Oz, I will undo this outrage! Rant over.
At the top/north end of Spencer Gulf, we reached Port Augusta and turned left into my new unknown territory. I flew to Perth (about 25 years ago), but have never driven west of Port Augusta. So from here on, all of this Canberra-to-Perth road trip is new to me.
On this ‘new’ stretch of road, our first major stop was at Iron Knob (still in South Australia and about four hours from Adelaide). Poor John saw it from a long way off, because he knew what to look for.
Iron ore was originally mined here for use as flux in the copper-smelting industry. The ore was of such high quality that it started an iron smelting industry as well. Not surprisingly, Iron Knob is considered the birthplace of Australia’s steel industry.
Quarrying for iron at the town ended in the mid-1990s. Even though the mine is closed, the town remains active.
We pulled off the main road for a quick visit. I was surprised to find that emus are a big threat here, with warning signs about every 50 metres and on both sides of the street.
I was also pleased to see that a kids’ camp has opened at Iron Knob. The camp includes a flying-fox run that was being used the day we were there. I think the run is overseen by the local police because all the adult organisers/participants were in uniform.
It was fun to see the cop at the bottom of the run in action. He had to make sure the flying-foxer was ‘stopped’ before they shot off the end of the run. I bet he needed a few beers and a long nap at the end of his day.
Was also amused that the toilets are provided for ‘Knobbettes’ and ‘Knobbies’. Kitsch at its best.
Stopping the 'flying fox'
* P.S. Colour me red. We stayed in Adelaide for three days, but I took very few pics, aside from the ones of our walk in the hills. Adelaide is Poor John’s hometown and we go there often enough that I forgot to record it as a tourist destination. I promise to do so the next time.
Great advice and wonderful truth in advertising
A few people have asked why we’re crazy enough to be doing this Canberra-to-Perth jaunt. I reckon we’re not crazy enough.
We saw this caravan on the road out of Adelaide and I think their slogan sums up our thoughts rather well. And it applies to our Aussie and our international travels.
If you agree, come join us on one of our outings.
From left, Poor John, Charlotte (relative by marriage), David and Margaret, who is a not related to the Brights.
If you’ve followed this blog for a while, you’ll know that Poor John walks along with his hands behind his back. Here’s just a bit of evidence.
There was a lot of joking and ribbing about this on the trip from London to Sydney. Norm finally decided that the stance actually helped to propel a person up a hill.
But I know better. The stance has nothing to do with physics or propulsion. It has to do with genetics. It runs in the Poor John family.
You doubt me?
Here are two pictures of Poor John with his brother, David. In the first one, at the top right, they both have their hands clasped behind their backs.
In the second pic, here on the left, Poor John is carrying a wicker shopping basket so can’t fold his hands behind his back, but empty-handed David can!
Our children have it too.
Daniel and Libby, one of our daughters, travelled to Turkey, Lebanon and Norway earlier this year. Libby did a little travel blog and even posted a picture of herself—in Byblos—using the folded-hand stance.
The condition is not only genetic—it’s also catching.
In the pic below is our friend, Kate, following Poor John out to the lighthouse by the junction of the Indian and Great Southern Oceans. She has quickly succumbed to his folded-hand stance. Oh people, be careful or Poor John will take over the earth.
An anthill makes a statement in the Mark Oliphant Conservation Park.
The next stop on our Canberra to Perth adventure was Adelaide, South Australia.
This is Poor John’s hometown and a place we both enjoy. There’s the added bonus that his brother and sister-in-law, David and Charlotte, still live there, which meant we could crawl out of our tent and sleep in a real bed. 🙂
We were also invited to join them on their monthly bush walk with a group of their friends.
What a great idea! Members of the group take turns choosing, planning and leading a walk. Every walk is different—it might be a tour of Adelaide artworks, a weekend-long tramp in Kangaroo Island or anything in between. I think repeats can come around every few years.
The walk we joined was organised by Bryce and Margaret, who set it in the 190-hectare Mark Oliphant Conservation Park in the Adelaide Hills.
It was a great choice. I’d never walked in the Adelaide Hills before and enjoyed ambling through a forest landscape of primarily messmate and brown stringybark gum trees—don’t ask me to tell you which is which!
I especially loved snapping pics of a lot of plants unknown to me. I’ve read that severe bush fires that swept through the park in 1980 and 1995, but other than some blackened trucks, the flora seems to have recovered.
Our not-too-strenuous walk lasted a couple of hours and included a mix of up and downhill stretches. The walk wrapped up with a picnic lunch near the carpark.
Thanks Margaret and Bryce for organising such a great outing. And thanks also for helping to identify many of the plants, the tips regarding camping on the road to Perth and the delicious date slice recipe. Yummo!
Here’s the recipe:
250 g butter
250 g chopped dates
1/2 cup sugar
5 dried apricots, chopped and soaked in a tiny bit of hot water
1 packet Marie biscuits or other neutral biscuit (about 200 g)
small amount of coconut—to sprinkle—or not
1 egg
vanilla (up to 1 tsp)
Mix dates, butter, sugar and apricots in saucepan and heat.
Beat egg and vanilla together and mix into date mix.
Roughly break up biscuits and mix in.
Grease a Swiss roll tin (and cover with coconut), put mixture into tin, sprinkle with coconut (or not) and flatten evenly with wet hands.
Refrigerate and cut into squares. Can store in deep freeze.
If you are interested in recipes and cooking, please check out my food blog.
The Nhill Post Office
I never expected to end up on the road to Nhill, but that’s the town we rolled into not long after dodging countless mobs of kangaroos in the Grampians.
This Victorian hamlet shot to national fame in the late 1990s with the release of the comedy film, Road to Nhill. It’s a quirky story about a group of women who are in a car accident after playing lawn bowls. I remember that it had some good laughs, so I might just have to watch it again when we get home.
Nhill, which is an Aboriginal word meaning ‘early morning mist rising over water’, is well-kept. Main street has some buildings that have been done-up in the Federation style. Plus, there’s the rather grand old post office that opened in 1881.
The transport industry considers this small town to be the mid-way point between Melbourne and Adelaide and, as such, is where driver changeovers are made.
Now I know where the supermarket Luv-a-Ducks come from! Nhill is the company’s administration headquarters. Maybe I’ll buy a frozen duck on the way back to Canberra. On this day, we stopped in the bakery and bought bread for lunch.
A roo on the move
Australia has no shortage of kangaroos.
We live in Canberra, the national capital. Our suburb is about 3 kilometres from the centre of town, but at least once a year we get a roo or two bouncing into the park in front of our house.
One morning a few years ago, I opened the bedroom curtains and was greeted by a large grey roo standing in our driveway.
So the other day, I wasn’t surprised to see plenty of warning signs and plenty of kangaroos on our drive out of the Grampians. We left our campsite not long after sunrise—roos are most active at dawn and dusk—and the critters were out in force.
A field of roos
They were in the fields, on the sides of the road, on the road and crossing the road. The only options are to drive slowly and stay alert. Poor John was driving on this morning, and I made him stop too many times so I could snap a few pics to share.
It took about 40 minutes to drive out of the Grampians and I think, in that time, we saw more than 1000 kangaroos.
As an aside, if you hit a kangaroo—and plenty of people do—the damage bill will surpass $2000.
Where to next? 