After two and a half years in Sydney it was becoming a little embarrassing to admit to not having been to the Hunter Valley yet - the premier wine-producing region of NSW about 2 hours drive north of the city. However, we can now cross this location off our 'visited' list.
I think our reluctance to go there has been the unsurprising lack of interest on the part of the girls. There are no theme rides, beaches or shops there - just rolling countryside and vineyards - so who can blame them? Anyway, our opportunity arose this weekend, as Laura and Caroline were busy and Rebecca had been invited out on both days, so we had a blank canvas – perfect!
The weather forecast was great, which gave us the prime opportunity to try camping so we loaded the car up on Saturday morning with my 'birthday tent', sleeping bags, the Eskie and our bikes and we set off for Cessnock, the gateway to the wineries.
On arriving, we headed for the Tourist Information Centre, only to be told there were several events on over the weekend and we’d be lucky to find accommodation, even at the one campsite. Slightly worrying news, so we immediately phoned said campsite and were offered a spot for our tent, no problem. Scare-mongers!
We then drove to the Hunter Valley Gardens, parked the car at the end of the car park, changed into our cycling gear and unloaded the bikes. The sun was beating down from a cloudless sky, with no shade. Mad dogs and Englishmen? Undeterred, we set off to explore the local roads and vineyards. The first hour was very hard, as we had to contend with a very bumpy, busy road and a strong headwind. Things improved after that when we turned off the main road, and the rest of the ride was on quieter roads which were very pleasant. Traffic was minimal, but sadly the hills weren’t as gentle as we’d hoped!
The views were very pretty, if a little twee. Beautifully manicured vineyards and olive groves filled the valley, overshadowed by distant hills. Every few metres we’d come across yet another offer to visit the cellar door and buy some wine. Eventually, our water supply having dwindled and with several kilometres to go, we succumbed. Our port of call was a small, boutique vineyard, where we were plied with four different wines but also lots of cold water, which tasted far superior! Three other parties were there too, so we managed to slip away without purchasing – could have been a little tricky carrying wine on our bikes!
We got back to the car safely and made our way to the campsite. There was nowhere else we could have pitched our tent and unfortunately we were in Cessnock on the same night as a Rodeo Event and concert was going on in the showground next door. Nothing against country music, but the AC/DC the roadies played loudly until 4am wasn’t very pleasant (although Clive was humming along)!
The night was a great test of our aptitude for camping. Clive was a whizz at erecting the tent on the solid ground and didn’t give the neighbours anything to laugh at! Stage One a success! We should have unloaded the picnic table before returning the bikes to the boot, as the Eskie wasn’t really big enough for our food and wine, and a portable BBQ would have been more Aussie, but we still had a very enjoyable evening meal sitting in the dying heat outside our tent until the sun went down at 8.00pm.
I’d like to say we then enjoyed a fantastic night’s sleep before waking with the birds at dawn. Well, the second part is true, but what with the heavy rain storm for several hours, the roadies partying until late and the very thin bed rolls on the very hard ground, we got very little sleep. Emerging from our tent the next morning and catching snippets of conversation from nearby campers, it seems we were not the only ones to suffer! All in the nature of camping I suppose, but I’d like a thicker bed roll next time please!
After a hot drink in McDonald’s (there was nowhere else!), we drove to the McWilliams winery nearby and purchased a case of 6 bottles after the very interesting tour. Then, sadly, it was time to wend our way home, this time along the Great North Road, built by convicts two hundred years ago. A lot quieter than the F3, and very pretty, but we eventually cut back onto the motorway so we could get home in time to read the papers! I’d like to say the girls all missed us dreadfully, but luckily, they hadn’t. Another successful mini-holiday by the parents!