Don post
Pokolbin, Australia
January 5, 2009
(Welcome to the second installment of our guest blogger series written by Tyler’s Dad, Don Myhan. Enjoy!)
Our excursion to the Australian wine country turned out to be all we had hoped it would be. We drove 2 hours north of Sydney to Hunter Valley, the wine region of New South Wales, Australia. Driving there was definitely an experience in itself, driving on the opposite side of the road than we’re accustomed. There was more than once, when the wipers came on when we intended to signal, and we made right turns into the right lane instead of the left lane.
The journey began after, Tyler and I had been to Cheers Bar in downtown Sydney at noon on January 3rd to watch the live telecast of the Sugar Bowl on TV (7:00 p.m. January 2 in Chicago). What a disappointment that outcome was, but we made the best of it. I would highly recommend Cheers Bar (www.cheersbar.com.au) to any U.S. sports fan visiting Sydney. These were the nicest, most accommodating people, and they provided Tyler and I with our own table right in front of one of their big screen TVs featuring the Sugar Bowl. A native of Miami, Florida joined us there who said he came only to see if Utah was in the same league with Alabama. What an understatement! I’m sure he left thinking the other way around – Alabama was not even in the same league with Utah. We nevertheless, enjoyed Cheers greatly. The food was fantastic and reasonably priced, and the selection of beverages was much to our liking. We left Cheers and rode the subway to Kings Cross to rent a car. Then we headed back to Bondi Beach to pick up Kaye and Katie and headed to the wine country.
An odd phenomenon of nature exists in this region. There are trees in the forest with orange tree trunks! We began noticing one here and there, and Katie pondered they had been marked for some reason. I didn’t argue with her logic, but wondered why anyone would go to the trouble of painting the whole tree trunk and branches orange to somehow mark a tree. The further we drove into The Forest of Tranquility (actual name), the more we noticed this phenomenon. Now these are not fluorescent roadside barrel orange. They are more like baby aspirin orange. A very pretty tree, with green leaves. We began to speculate what type of tree this might be. It had not been featured in any of our education about plant biology.
They are very pretty silhouetted against the Blue Mountains of New South Wales. Hunter Valley is situated between several of these gorgeous mountains. One particular ridge in view of Pokolbin, where we stayed, is called Brokenback Mountain. We looked hard for sheep herders practicing alternative lifestyles in this area, but none were found. Touring the winery museum, however, did provide us with an interesting story. Wilkinson Winery was owned by a sister and brother in the very early 1900’s, named Audrey and Garth Wilkinson. They were apparently of very wealthy means, and inherited the winery from their parents. They were privileged, and attend numerous picnics, balls and social events hosted by the fine people within this region. It was at one such picnic that Audrey met Beatrice Holmes. Audrey’s personal diary for years thereafter was sprinkled with too much information about her relationship with Beatrice. Being from that era, Audrey probably never thought anyone would read her personal diaries, and planned to destroy them before her death. Audrey died, however, in 1963 without sealing her diaries beforehand. Perhaps she lived before her time and intended it that way. I really don’t know. I won’t share the details of their relationship here, but if you’ve seen the movie, Brokeback Mountain, you can imagine the happiness Audrey and Beatrice shared with each other the remainder of their lives. Garth preceded them in death, and the winery had Audrey added to its name.
Audrey Wilkinson Winery was the first stop on our tour. Now, I’ve been on several wine tours in my lifetime. We’ve been to Napa Valley and Sonoma Valley in California, and we’ve even been on a wine tour in Washington, Missouri at the time we lived in St. Louis. Most U.S. wineries have five, maybe six wines featured at a tasting. In Australia, our initial stop offered no less than 13. I noticed by the seventh wine, Kaye was sitting her glass down on the table with a loud bang each time after she took a sip, as if her arm were heavy or something. By number 12, we cut her off. I knew at this pace, she would be difficult to carry after the second winery we visited, and would not be happy if we just left her sweating on the hot bus.
Fortunately, our next stop was at an olive vineyard. Hunter Olives has the most overwhelming selection of tapenades and relishes, jams and chutneys, sauces and olive oil I’ve ever seen. It was like Williams-Sonoma on steroids. They had plenty of bread strategically placed to sop up the splendid assortment of spreads and dipping sauces. This was a nice reprieve from the wine tasting overdose we’d just experienced.
Then we were on to our next stop, Lucy’s Run Winery. Lucy is a dog. No, I’m not insulting the owner, whose name is John, or his wines. John named his winery after his dog, who’s right there on the premises to greet visitors. We noted when we arrived, at this very modest winery in John’s shed, there were three donkeys standing under a shade tree near the shed (winery). Upon seeing the bus arrive, Lucy ran out and darted toward the fence, scaring the donkeys back. It was as if she were saying, “Get out of here, you inferior creatures. My customers are coming.” After seeing her display of aggression, I was a bit concerned about stepping off the bus. But in an instant, after putting the donkeys in their place, Lucy had changed into the most charming host one could imagine. She sniffed each person getting off the bus, and offered her head to a nice pat or scratch from anyone who so desired. She led us into the shed to the wine tasting room, where John had displayed a selection of wines and more olive spreads and bread. She sat at our feet as we sampled her wares, moving from person to person and leaning up against their leg if they wanted. She could sense who was dog-friendly and who wasn’t, and sat by me for a round before moving on to the next customer. Her dessert wines were incredible, and although we’re not dessert wine drinkers, we bought two bottles.
For the remainder of the day, we visited no less than five wineries, a cheese and gelato shop and a restaurant for lunch. The views of the vineyards are incredible, the food delicious and the wines are outstanding. Along the way we learned a lot and cultivated our ability to speak wine Zen-twaddle. “Zen-twaddle,” is a termed coined by our artist friend, Barb Stroer, back home. It is used to describe that artfully-spoken talk people use to describe their feelings and experiences with something wonderfully made. Many of us would call it bullshit, but that would not be appropriate to say in front of your Australian wine vintner. It goes something like this …
“This flavour rich vintage provides intense lemon, lime and mint characters on the palate, followed by a constant line of elegant acidity to finish the wine.”
“Once again, this wine is typically Hunter in style. It shows a pleasant combination of spicy plum fruit and liquorice integrated with a soft lingering earthiness.”
“This wine is complex, with evident spicy oak overtones, generous fruit on the nose, and is beautifully balanced.”
“This wine is a cheeky little Portuguese varietal, with its abundance of tropical fruit and tight structure, interweaving dreams and passions into one.”
My absolute favorite was our host at Iron Gate Estate Winery. He was definitely more laid back with phrases like:
“We twist it, pull it, and pour it.”
“We practice the 3-R’s here – Remain focused; Remain calm; Remain drinking.”
“Fermentation is like when your Uncle Charlie farts and you leave the room, and come back 30 minutes later and it still smells.”
We finished the day at McLeish Estate Winery, where none other than Bob McLeish himself was our host. You can tell by Bob’s bulbous red nose, he has sampled more than a few bottles from his harvest. Bob had a tasting menu he was supposed to follow that had been laid out by his wife before our visit. Problem was she left him alone, and being the good sport that he is, he let us sample a bottle from every variety in the house. Once again, we cut ourselves off after number 12 and enjoyed the ride back to our lodge for a rest before dinner.
By the way, the orange tree trunk mystery was explained by our bus driver, Derrick. They are a variety of Eucalyptus that shed their bark revealing an orangey sap that coats the tree, but pales as the tree grows older, and weathers in the sun, wind and rain. They eventually turn a chalky-white color with streaks of grey, like a beacon of light at sunrise. Sounds a bit like Zen-twaddle to me.
