Around Oz the First Time - Chapter 78 - Yallingup (Margaret River) Day 3

We stayed an extra day thinking it would be good to do a wine tour. After yesterday, having buggerred our “guide” and only really doing one winery, much thought went into the itinerary. Robyn wanted the chocolate factory, we had been told the olive oil factory at Vasse was a must by yesterday’s guide, Silver Leader wanted to see the Margaret River surf break up close and personal, their needed to be a lunch stop and a winery. With Cullens Winery the preferred stop.

Working out the order was easy; the winery was going to be last and the brewery lunch. It made sense to do the olive Oil factory then the chocolate factory as they were on the road out fo town. A suitable brewery for lunch between the chocolate factory and the Margaret River surf break shouldn’t be hard and Cullens Winery is where Cullens Winery is.

Thought was the olive oil factory was one of the things on Robyn’s list to do, but actually she was not fussed. When we got there, the mood about the place changed. The aroma as we entered the centre, was not olive oil, it was everything but. The tasting tables were at the back, past the moisturisers, soaps and hand creams, need I say more. Testing was not an issue, there was a large sink to rub in and wash off product.

I headed past this for the food testing tables, but of course I took some snaps of the areas so as not to forget them later. Here there were oils (not for me), there were jams, some of which were amazing, relishes and chutneys. All begged to be tried, especially since the staff member on duty is suggesting their macadamia pesto is their biggest seller, but we should try them all.

There are testing spoons for the jams, croutons for the oils and pikes for the olives, both marinated and chilli infused. The caramelised onion jam takes my fancy, as does the chilly jam. There are a couple of pasta sauces here that do not do it for me, being a connoisseur of them, making my own with relish when I cook, and I don’t mean the vegetable. Robyn joins me and tries the delights, agreeing with me, the chilli jam is worth a purchase as is the caramelised onion jam, only problem I cannot find them on the shelf.

I go to the counter and enquire, and silly me they are in the fridge beside the shelves, where they would have bitten me if they had teeth. I collect the chilli jam and the caramelised onion jam and spy a bottle of duck liver pate on the bottom shelf. Robyn and I look at each other and the jar is in the basket, before you can say Cock Robyn. She has also snuck in a bottle of the caramelised onion and block olive tapenade into the basket.

I tear myself away from the food and over to the soaps. A good friend of ours who is looking after our post box while we are away is also into making her own soaps. I take pictures of all the soap descriptions and send to her, suggesting I am doing market research for her. She texts back saying she is out of oil and has now progressed to making alcoholic cider. No matter, the research was fun. Robyn has bought a soap set for the new baby and as we pay for the basket full of items the cashier throws in a special cake for the new mum, a nice gesture.

You can see fully the operations of the soap making here, as a sunken floor away from the retail area. Questions are asked and answered as the staff work. This a very friendly place, until the question of the blow flies comes to pass. Something in the shop must be drawing them in, those large slow ones. A staff member has herded quite a number into a window recess and is trying to hunt them out the ajar window, with limited success. Obviously, they do not want to use an aerosol spray for fear of taking away the present ambient aroma of the shop.

So that was the Vasse Virgin Olive Oil Shoppe. Been there, done that. Next on the list is the Margaret River Chocolate Factory a few kilometres down the road. What you don’t want as you walk in here is to be hit by the pungency of chocolate as you walk in, and you don’t. What you do see, is heaven for any chocoholic.

Not just eating chocolate, there are chocolate bath salts, chocolate (and other mixtures) massage oil and numerous other products. Tasting here is limited to white, milk and dark chocolate buttons, but there are huge bowls of them, ready to be scooped into your hands for devouring. Us three lads try them all once, and then try them all again just to make sure we have the tastes right. The dark chocolate is not that dry stuff you normally associate with it, its smooth and rich and very edible. Even some children, silly enough to move away from the white and milk chocolate, seem to like it.

I send some pictures to our children, suggesting I have died and gone to heaven. They laugh, my oldest, who has just started a relationship with a new woman asks if we can buy some of the massage oil. I jest with him, we have already bought them giant freckles, his reply “what are freckles”. Some kids – well he is 35, suppose he has forgotten all the other ones he has eaten over the years.

Outside we take the obligatory shots in front of the Chocolate Factory sign to show we really were here, and marvel at the blossoms in the garden. Just down the road I stop to take a picture of the Knotting Hill Winery, just because I can and because of the film. We also stop for flora photos close up, as well as some Friesian cows, laying by the side of the road, a reminder to times past.

Heading up a hill I spy something on the road and stop abruptly. Reversing back, the stunned passengers ask what are we looking for? I tell them I saw what looked to be a blue tongued lizard on the road, but backing up, he is not on the road. Probably heard of my driving abilities, suggests Rosalie. We head forward slowly, and I ask Forbsy to keep an eye out and he spots the lizard, just off the road. It is not a blue tongue as I thought it’s a shell back. Snaps are taken, including Forbsy getting out of the Cruiser for an ultra-close up of the reptile. Forbsy suggests he could sit and watch the lizard, and that species all day, but when I suggest the beer is calling, he is back in his seat like a flash and ready to go.

All of a sudden, we are having issues with the GPS. In this case potentially because we have put the address of the next stop rather than the name of the destination. The Beerfarm is where we are wanting to have lunch. We pass a sign with that name on it, but the GPS wants us to go 500 metres further. When we get tot the designated spot we realise the error of our ways and chuck a U-turn and return to the entrance as designated by the sign.

Again, frivolity has gotten the better of the owners here. Parking vehicles in the wrong place here will result in them being turned into beer cans. The entrance takes you past the old milking bays, which seem to go on forever, until you work out there is a mirror at the end of the bay. Walking into the bar, the aroma of dairy cows remains. It is not a warm day and the fire is on. The fire is an old dozer bucket, covered over with an iron door and a chimney to the roof.

The bar is long and the eatery is very spacious. Silver Leader and Forbsy both order tasting saddles. Not being beer drinkers and not wanting to be caught again on super slow motion, Robyn asks for a glass of bubbles and I see a buffalo on a bottle next to the Jack Daniels and inquire as to its nature. Finding out it is bourbon, I order some. Lunch will be nachos for Robyn and I will have an Angus Burger.

Evidently the others order similar meals, but ours comes very quickly, and we are almost finished when the Silver Leader and Rosalie’s loaded fries arrives. Although she has a huge batch of nachos, Robyn was hungry, and devours the delicacy. Whilst the others are eating, I take the opportunity to make some phone calls, looking to placate some irate clients. Back to the table, and Forbsy and Silver Leader are looking to imbibe in another beer each. I join them and have another bourbon, the same one I sampled earlier.

The crew begrudgingly walk out of the brewery but not before discovering a mezzanine level overlooking the actual brewery itself, which had comfy leather seating and no other patrons. There is rustic art here and other things to see. We should have eaten here – maybe next time.

Its time for the jaunt to the Margaret River Surf Break. It’s a 30-minute drive, so I suspect there will be some snoring in the back as we motor along. There isn’t, as Silver Leader calls the Missing link, and we talk to him. He has had some good news for a change, although I am not at liberty to tell the passengers, other than to tell them some faith he has shown in people has been rewarded.

When we arrive at Margaret River, what sun there was, has gone. The wind is cold and biting. For Silver Leader, this is one of the holy grails of his passion. He quips, it takes him to flatten a surf, and yes there is little in the way of surfable waves here right now. A sign we read suggests the waves can get to almost 8 metres here and even at 2 metres is not for the faint hearted. A map showing where people might think to surf gives only one place for beginners to attempt to surf and only two more for “rookies”. Me on the beach watching would be fine.

Robyn spies a whale out wide. In the rough sea, it is not easy to spot, then it starts flapping its fins in the surf making it easier to see. For a moment it disappears, and I hold the camera ready to capture anything on offer. The auto focus is struggling with the telephoto setting, the waves in close and the wind out wide, but a breach occurs, and I snap merrily. On looking at what I captured, only one shot has caught the breach, but it’s a reasonable shot, if blurry. Up close you can make out what is going on. So we captured a whale at Margaret River.

Time is getting away and our last stop, the cellar door at Cullens Winery beckons. There will be no stopping for quick flora shots, we are on a mission. Dr Harry, a good acquaintance of Silver Leader, has suggested this winery as a must. We make it with 15 minutes to spare.

Although we are clearly the last patrons of the day we are greeted with warmth. I am not sampling as I am driving, and I don’t want to put anyone in jeopardy. On the tasting list are two wines in particular, that beg tasting. Both are $125 per bottle and they even charge $5 for tasting. Robyn and I are inquisitive enough to find out why.

The white is a lovely chardonnay, with none of the bite of others we have tried. The red is so smooth, even for a young wine like this. Having marvelled at those, Robyn goes to “normal” taste testing. Here unlike the Wise Winery they are very frugal with their testing amounts. There are a couple she likes, and she buys one with a very dark hue for a white, but it tasted quite nice. We also settle on a couple of reds for another friend looking after our house while we were away.

This place is snooty, but the people are friendly and talk to you not at you like some “posher” places. One might suggest more in the taste glass might (especially in our cases) meant more in the cash register at the end of the day, but that is their decision, and its all free, so what can you complain about.

Time to head back, its almost 5.00pm, perhaps we can sneak an Ugg Boot Factory visit in before it closes, we didn’t make it. Back at the vans we look to sort out all the purchases from the back of the Cruiser and each head back to their own vans. The others are going to Wayne, our guide from yesterday, home to devour marron. Marron are like a large freshwater yabby, I would have gone if catching the marron was involved but they are already in his fridge. Robyn has expressed a desire to try Caves House for dinner, but I am not sure we will have the appetites for that.

It might end up being a glass of wine and bed.