October 21
Adelaide to Clare

Check out was quick and easy. The staff here are very pleasant and helpful. The taxi they ordered, however, took ages to arrive - perhaps 20 minutes. When it did, we crawled through the rush hour traffic to the rental car office. Without my bag, I could have walked there just as fast.

I collected the car and headed North, through the park which surrounds the Torrens River, and into upmarket North Adelaide. There I stopped for my first breakfast of the trip, having self catered up to this stage.

First (only) cafe breakfast of the trip

As it turned out, it was my only bought breakfast of the trip. There's economy for you. An Italian café on the corner of the main road provided a croissant, a coffee and a good view of the people passing by. The waitress was fascinated by my coffee cup photos.

Childers Street, North Adelaide	Confusing parking sign

Parking had been interesting. I think the sign meant that I could park for three hours. Later investigation revealed that this assumption was probably correct. The side streets were very pretty with lots of trees and some nice old buildings.

The main road North is lined with car yards and tin shed retail outlets. Even if I had been able to stop to take photos, there wouldn't have been much point. What open country there was, was very dry.

Gawler main street	Gawler Town Hall and Institute

Gawler is the first real town on the route. There is no mention of it in the Lonely Planet and I can understand why. It is a basic service town with a long main street. It does have some splendid old pubs and a Town Hall and Institute of considerable merit. Having the sun immediately behind them rather reduced the impact of the photos.

Gawler Town Hall	National Australia Bank, Gawler

There was a plaque outside the Institute detailed the first performance in the town of the song "Australia, Australia" in about 1859. This became a quasi National Anthem. Apparently, Gawler was a cultural centre in those days, with people streaming out of Adelaide by train to attend social functions.

Father Christmases by the dozen	Major shortage of water

The main street actually had a shop full of Father Christmases, which seemed worth a photo but not a visit. I found a café and a cold drink to counter the growing heat. This was also tempered by a cooling breeze. The small river which used to run parallel to the main street looks as if it hasn't run since before I last did.

Corn country near Tarlee
	The road passes through an area of corn country, very flat and obviously irrigated. Some of the small towns, such as Tarlee, had huge grain storage facilities, which dwarfed everything else.
Grain silos at Tarlee

Auburn is small and pretty. Lots of old buildings and wild olives growing by the side of the road.

The Rising Sun, Auburn	Wild olives

I decided to start by visiting the start of the Riesling Trail. This was just as well as what I took to be the start of the Trail, outside the old station, petered out after about 50 metres. The Information Office was in the Post Office which, unfortunately, was closed for lunch.

Auburn Station - but no Trail	Another dry ford

I also tried to visit the Grossett Wines’ cellar door but they had already sold out & closed. They are the producers of arguably the best Riesling in the Valley.

Deciding that lunch was called for, I stopped at a café. The courgette & feta tartlet was freshly baked and very good. They also told me that the Trail really began on the edge of town. A couple eating on the terrace had a friend with them.

Courgette & feta tart	Fellow diner

Following the route by car indicated that in most places, eg Leasingham and Watervale, it was a reasonable hike from the road to the Trail. At least Watervale had a pub to make the hike worthwhile! Penwortham could be easily accessed and supposedly had a bookshop which sold coffees and refreshments. (It turned out to closed mid-week). There was also a vineyard, which I didn't check. At least the Sevenhill Hotel, my destination for the night on the Trail, looked OK. On the outskirts of Clare I found the Information Centre, a brand new building, in an area of woodland next to the caravan park. I asked them about catching the bus back to Auburn and picked up some leaflets.

Clare Valley Information Centre

Once in Clare, I went round and round looking for the place where the bus stopped. I asked at the Library and the lady there pointed me towards the travel shop, outside which it stopped. The man there, Philip Basham I presume, sold me a ticket and said he would leave a note for the bus driver asking him to collect me from the end of the road where I would be staying. If it works, it will be brilliant. If not, there will be an expensive taxi ride to Auburn.

The cottage is stunning, beautifully appointed and with enough bacon and eggs in the fridge to provide a packed lunch as well as breakfast.

Violet Cottage, Clare

	There was even a spa bath, which might be more use tomorrow than tonight, after rather than before the walk. It is about 10 metres from the door to the Trail and the manager said I could leave my car on the other side of the road, outside his own house.

After a brief relax, I drove back towards Auburn, stopping at the Kirrihills winery, which is underneath a posh restaurant. The cellar door was closed but I could treat myself at the restaurant, in a couple of days, at the end of the walk.

Tim Adams Winery is a short distance further down the Trail, so I had a chat and a taste and bought a bottle of aged Semillon for immediate consumption. It would have been nice to have it at the cottage with a pizza from the takeaway I had just passed, which looked interesting. Unfortunately, the man at the winery told me that it was closed on Tuesdays.

Returning to the cottage, I packed my backpack and decided that I could manage the weight. Not having to take a raincoat would help. I was interrupted by a very large cat, which seemed to be a Siamese/Persian cross. It had the very loud voice and colouring of a Siamese with the thick coat of a Persian. Isabella, as I later learned she was called, sat and howled at the flyscreen over my door. Judging from her shape, she has been very successful over the years in scrounging food from the guests at the various cottages. I was hard hearted and refused to let her in. When I finally emerged and tried to pick her up, she played very hard to get. Very recently, I discovered that she is a Burman, a well known breed of posh pussy cat.

Bentley's Hotel, Clare	Kangaroo steak
Bentley's Hotel, Clare	View from Violet Cottage

Back in Clare, I stopped at Bentley's Hotel, a large pub with an even larger bistro and lots of accompanying motels. I ordered the kangaroo, which was excellent. Very tender, like a slightly sweet fillet steak. It was on a spicy pumpkin mash and accompanied by game crisps (or similar) and a beautiful salad. Not bad for a small town pub.

Isabella reappeared at the cottage, along with the manager, who introduced her to me. This time she had brought a friend, Tilly, a tiny and elderly white dog who sat and looked imploringly at me until I stroked her… and stroked her … and stroked her.

October 22