Margaret River - Wine, cows and lavatorial humour

I have finally got this hat looking the way
it should.

Our 4 hour drive from Scarborough was uneventful, a few shenanigans on a busy freeway around Fremantle but easy driving thereafter. We stopped for a break at Myalup Beach, a 3K detour off the highway. The only eatery turned out to be a village shop that only did take out food and did not have a toilet. We learned that there was a public toilet down at the beach, some 300 metres up the road. Attempting banter with the shop owner, I said in a stage whisper "looks like a pee on the beach then" and was met with a total humour bypass. I wasn't expecting this. Most Aussies I have met are typically down to earth. Another note to self, avoid lavatorial references. It's a good job I didn't mention my notorious s-bend blocker.

A proper cowboy hat.

We arrived at our B&B on the outskirts of Margaret River a little early and were shown to an attic room resembling a bread oven, hot and airless. We’d arrived on a particularly hot day and we contemplated moving on but, having had problems finding this place and realising that it wasn't the owner's fault, decided to stick it out. It’s positioned on the edge of town on the slopes above the river and it was quiet, which was great. As it's near a river there were also lots of mosquitoes around, which was not so great and I quickly acquired some painful bites. One managed to get me on my little toe and it itches like hell! The house is great but, sadly, it’s another one in which shoes cannot be worn. Message to Aussies, please stop using flooring that scratches so easily. Wooden floors look great but for wrinklies like me, with painful toes and inflexible feet, being barefoot all of the time is a pain. Perhaps after 6 months my toes will toughen up.

On our first full day we spent the morning in Margaret River itself, a town that has grown as a wine tourism hub. It was busy but still retained a relaxed feel; as one coffee shop proudly stated on a advertising board “Worry is a total waste of time. It achieves nothing and robs you of your joy. So chill”. The town is at the centre of the Margaret River region which stretches from Cape Naturiste in the north to Cape Leeuwin in the south (about 100Km). It spreads only about 30km inland before lapsing into desert. As you can see it’s only a small area but some enterprising people back in the 1970s took note of its microclimate and its potential as a wine growing region. This effectively sealed its fate as a livestock region and, along with a collapse in the price of lamb, explains why most land is now given over to the growing vines.

Mooey Christmas

We spent half an hour wandering around a low-key Sunday market before gathering an armful of tourist leaflets and plonking ourselves in Gina's Coffee Shop to plan the next few days. Over coffee I was amazed to hear one burly Aussie say that he was going to "freshen up" as he left by a side door. Freshen up? What the heck is happening to the Aussie bloke? Barry McKenzie, Sir Les Patterson, Crocodile Dundee et al would have trudged off to the dunee with a jaunty "just off to point Percy at the porcelain" or "just off to let loose the one-eyed trouser snake". When did Australians get prissy about going to the toilet? Is this the reason why most modern Aussie eateries don't have toilets on the premises? Time and again we have been sent out around back to perform, even at up-market restaurants. It's all oddly parochial and at odds with so much else that is modern in Australia.

Rump on a stump. This is
30 feet in the air on
the village green.

After coffee we headed off to Cowaramup, a small town a few miles further along the Bussell Highway. Back in 2010 there was a global celebration of all things bovine. The idea was so dopey that I have already forgotten what it was called but, essentially, places adorned themselves with cow art! The good people of Cowaramup (known locally as Cow Town) liked the idea so much that they really went to town and then decided to retain all of the exhibits as well as some from neighbouring towns. There were life-sized plastic or wooden cows everywhere; resplendent in their recently-applied Christmas costumes, but my personal quirky favourite was Rump on a Stump, a bovine exhibit on the village green. It’s meant to be a light-hearted dig at a local winery which uses the image of a woman atop a long pole as its logo (chick on a stick). However, it reminded me more of a crucifixion scene or something from the film ‘Village of the Dammed’.

We ate a late lunch udderneath a tree on the green, before mooching around town to find a butcher’s shop. I had built up a powerful urge for a steak.

Can you tell? Christmas is coming.

Coffee is something that keeps me busy until it’s acceptable to drink wine.