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“Amberley Air Force Base is active today. So if we muck up, they’ll shoot us down,” warns Captain Mike, kicking the engine to life. Hopefully the Royal Australian Air Force doesn’t consider three people in a chopper heading to the pub a national threat, but we’re prepared to take our chances. Blades above us grind as though the machine’s out of gear before they twirl into a purr, and we spin off above the bunya pines surrounding the Woodlands of Marburg.
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Minutes later we’re clutching amber pots of Tooheys Extra Dry and Hahn Pale Ale and watching 22-wheelers rolling from Brisbane to Toowoomba along the Warrego Highway. It’s quiet inside the saloon, with just a few day drinkers clustered at the bar. Our Robinson R44 helicopter is stationed out back behind the trade utes and oil tankers.
A bloke called Choppa, with tatts on his knuckles and grey hair frothing from his shirt, wanders over to join us on the porch. “Whenever you come here I like to sit out the back and watch,” he informs Captain Mike, grinning as he takes another slurp. “Last time you flew off with the nose down,” he continues. “You know why I do that?” asks Captain Mike. “Just because I can!” Seems a good enough reason for Choppa, who settles back in to consuming his beer in solitude.
Choppa’s recall for detail might be top-notch, but I’m beginning to feel pleasantly fuzzy. Perhaps it’s because midday just trickled by and my beer seems to be evaporating, or maybe it’s because I was up before sunrise, taking in Ipswich from the comfort of an enormous wicker basket. The sky was bruised deep purple as we unfurled the hot air balloon onto dewy grass in a park in town and pumped it full of the same gas you pick up at a petrol station. Fumes crept through the air as raging heat propelled us above the treetops.
“Everyone brought their parachute?” joked Graham, our balloon master. “We’ve all got the same one, it’s attached to the basket,” my partner Lachie chuckled back. Bovines marching in single file below us broke rank, no doubt spooked by the groans that emerged from my fellow passengers.
“Over there’s the little knoll where Pauline Hanson lived,” Graham pointed out, shortly after we sailed over the rail yard where Queensland’s first train departed back in 1865. More than 200 steam locomotives were constructed here, and during WWII it was the state’s largest employer. Catching a ride on a breeze, we swept in the direction of the Scenic Rim Region, while the rising sun burnt the sky behind Brisbane and our shadow raced to catch up. Wisps of cloud gathered on trees like cotton wool and dams transformed into metallic pools. By the time we bounced down into a field of grasses, leaving behind a smear of rusted earth and toppling a termite mound, I found myself convinced that dad jokes or not, balloon travel’s a superb way to explore the sights of Queensland’s oldest provincial city.
Doors open onto a wide verandah at the Cottage Restaurant, allowing a breeze to brush through former bedrooms of the National Trust-listed home turned fine-dining establishment. As we sup on plump gnocchi accompanied by a glass of French rosé, Captain Mike tells us about Pterodactyl Helicopters’ popular pub crawl, which takes in some of the region’s favourite drinking establishments. “The trip gives you a feel for what real Australia is like,” he explains. “We know the bar guys who are always there.” Perhaps our newfound pub-pal Choppa is actually on a retainer.
“Mike X-Ray Romeo… requesting clearance to become airborne,” Captain Mike radios in before we take off. By now more than one streak of bug blood graces the windscreen – the markings of a true rural Aussie trip. As it’s been at least a good half-hour since we’ve had our last drink, we’re destined for a vineyard where chardonnay and a cheese platter await on the porch of the 1920s miner’s cottage turned cellar door.
“Ipswich is coming of age,” Captain Mike muses. “There’s this beer culture that it’s really embracing,” he continues as we soar towards a tasting paddle at Tap’d, a craft beer bar considered the largest in the southern hemisphere. “We’re going to have a beer there… just because we can!” he chuckles. And we do. Many. But it’s the far smaller Pumpyard, home to the first brewery to open in Ipswich since 1903, that really takes my fancy. Shining vats of 4 Hearts Brewing fill one side of the industrial-style bar in an ornate brick building on Limestone Street, fermenting preservative-free frothies best consumed on one of the comfy leather couches. Bearing names like Ipswich Challenger light ale and Coal Miners stout, it seems as though head brewer and local bloke Wade Curtis is inviting punters to raise a glass to the historic mining town.
This isn’t the Ipswich I was expecting. And although it still doesn’t feel right referring to this collection of airy Queenslanders as a city, I’m beginning to understand why Captain Mike dropped the words “hidden gem” on more than one occasion. Themed restaurants and cafes serving single-origin espressos are setting up shop between bric-a-brac and clothes stores on Brisbane Street. A heritage-listed former church, now the Ipswich Antique Centre, brims with all manner of treasures. At Rafter & Rose we eye-off Alice in Wonderland-esque cakes by the cafe counter, their meringue mountains culminating in caramelised peaks, and pep up with a three-course flight of coffee.
Once the industrial heart of the city, the redbrick buildings surrounding ‘The Workshops’ sit almost abandoned, giving the old rail yard a Walking Dead kinda vibe. But new life is pouring into the expansive site. A rail museum housing restored steam trains opened in the boiler shop in 2002, and over the past year Museum Twilight Markets have created a space for local craft makers to sell their wares between food trucks and stalls proffering gluten-free doughnuts and gourmet burgers. Hopefully one day the entire hub will transform into an entertainment enclave, with cafes and boutiques filling the cathedral-like powerhouse and old machinery halls.
A day later, I’m flying through the air once more, only this time there’s no pilot to guide me gently back to land. While distracted by a spider web so elaborate it resembles a dreamcatcher, I’ve managed to crash my bike into a berm and catapult into a sandstone boulder. Ankle and ego smarting, I clamber back onto the frame and pedal hard to catch up, an outline of the latticed pedal creeping across my shin. Mountain biking clearly isn’t my forte, but with a 10-course dinner at Homage – Spicers Hidden Vale’s hatted restaurant – on the horizon, I’m determined to work up an appetite. More than a hundred kilometres of bike trails wend through bushland on the property’s sprawling 4800 hectares, about 45 kilometres from Ipswich. Guests staying at the retreat share the paths with hikers and riders from Brisbane and beyond, who fang across the red earth and sandy rivulets, tackling switchbacks in eucalyptus-shaded gullies and even passing an abandoned light plane rusting in a clearing.
Back at Hidden Vale, restored cottages, many with guests’ bikes parked out front, spread out near the old homestead-turned-restaurant. A wide, airy porch overlooks a valley and the distant mountains forming the Scenic Rim. Geese honk for extra feed and piglets rush to the side of their pens, pushing glistening little snouts towards human company. Head chef Ash Martin, who works magic in the restaurant, throws me a bemused look when I ask after their names. Despite the bucolic scenery, luxurious guest cottages, spa and tennis courts on site, Hidden Vale is a fully functioning farm. Fellow city folk take note; naming a creature that will soon become breakfast bacon isn’t exactly kosher.
Sloe gins in hand, we sink into a couch at Homage, with Frank Sinatra crooning above wood crackling in the hearth (it’s actually cold enough to need a jumper when outside). Appreciative gasps punctuate the air as waiters reveal new dishes like magic tricks. Behind us a man slices into a choice cut of meat, a nest of flaming rosemary on top sending scented smoke above his head. A lady cracks open her dessert by dropping it from a height.
For a fine-dining restaurant it’s far from stuffy, which is probably because its fare invites you to eat with your hands. Working our way through the Forage tasting menu, we pluck ‘truffles’ – mushroom pâté encased in choux pastry – from a bed of soft turf and lick gum leaves laced with honey caviar, the sweet nectar collected from hives on the property. Our fingers seek out morsels of cured duck, charred mandarin and spicy nectarine that adorn a gnarled tree root, and we snack on freshwater natives the size of a pinky that sit atop a scrap of hessian, arranged like an Instagram flat lay. Cod is served delicately poached in macadamia milk and a confetti of puffed grains garnishes a dish of kangaroo tail. After an hour and a half we’ve sampled just half of our evening’s meal.
Come morning, my belly’s returned to its normal size and shape, and we sit on our cottage porch, watching king parrots flash scarlet and emerald plumes, willie wagtails flaunting their tail feathers and a wallaby grazing beneath an enormous ficus tree. “Let’s go for a pre-breakfast ride,” suggests Lachie. Taking stock of the bruises decorating my limbs I decide that, for now, my mountain biking days are over. “You go ahead,” I tell him. “I’m going to sit and soak up the sunshine. Just because I can”.
Dive with Great White Sharks
I’m staying on the Princess II for a four-night Rodney Fox Shark Expedition, cruising around the Neptune Islands – otherwise known as one of the best shark restaurants in the southern hemisphere. The isles, 70 kilometres from Port Lincoln, are also home to Australia’s largest fur seal colony. Peak breeding season is over summer, an opportune time for great whites to fill their bellies. From April, seal pups learning to swim make for tasty shark treats. It’s a twice yearly smorgasbord locked into a great white’s feeding calendar.
The cage protecting me from the shark’s powerful jaws was designed 50 years ago by Australian conservationist Rodney Fox. At the age of 23, Rodney survived a near-fatal shark attack during a spear fishing competition, and the ragged wounds coursing across his chest, right arm and hand had to be sewn closed with almost 500 stitches. The encounter left him with a fear fed by the prevailing ideology of the times – that the best shark is a dead shark. It also imparted a fascination for these creatures that he’s not yet been able to shake.
Rodney devised a plan to create a two-man cage that would keep him safe while he attempted to capture the first ever underwater footage of a great white. It worked. But as his 1965 documentary Attacked by a Killer Shark screened around the world and he dedicated more time to observing great whites, Rodney’s perception of these “man eaters” started to shift closer to curiosity. Even so, when Steven Spielberg’s production team came calling with a request for live recordings for their 1975 blockbuster thriller Jaws, Rodney obliged.
Realising he had unwittingly helped to turn ravenous great whites into the stuff of urban legend, Rodney set to work debunking myths about sharks. On his mission he created the world’s first shark cage tours to help divers meet them in the flesh. Today his son Andrew continues his advocacy work, taking travellers out to meet great whites on Rodney Fox Shark Expeditions. Over 15 years, Andrew has collated an extensive catalogue, identifying great whites through a renowned identification program that gathers behavioural and biological data, and monitors human impact as well.
Rodney Fox Shark Expeditions offers the only liveaboard shark tour in Australia, and it’s the only one in the world to also winch a cage to the ocean floor. PADI-certified divers who opt for this encounter lounge on the sea floor with front-row seats to the shark show. Non-divers like me get first dibs on the surface cage, which hangs in the water and offers speedy entry when the great whites turn up.
Actually spotting a shark comes down to luck and the good grace of Mother Nature. Andrew warns that we might have to wait hours, scouring the ocean’s waves for a teasing slice of a fin. Within seconds of the first sighting a wall of cameras materialises and the frantic race to kit up begins. I squeeze into a full-body wetsuit and booties, pull on a painfully tight hood, and finally don my gloves and mask. It’s a laborious process, but essential if you want to withstand the frigid temperatures of the water off Australia’s southern coast.
The tours operate with a berley permit allowing them to pique the sharks’ interest with bait. It’s standard practice, but not without controversy, as common belief holds that chumming and cage diving fosters human habituation. Andrew argues that scientific evidence indicates the outcome is quite the opposite; and a morsel of dead tuna makes an insignificant impact on a great white’s intake of teenage pups and vulnerable newborn seals. Time and time again, I witness circling sharks simply ignore the bait that lands in the water, and it’s roped back in unscathed.
Laden with a 20-kilogram weight belt, I bite onto the regulator and gingerly step into the cage. Swell surges over the top, rocking it out of sync with the boat. I brace at the bottom and take a few moments to adjust the breathing aid, trying to tap into some inner calm. My senses are on high alert, and every sound seems amplified. The only noise louder than my regulator’s Darth Vader-esque wheeze is the boom of the cage bashing against the boat. It’s a turbulent ride, exacerbated by my buoyant wetsuit. With my feet straining to anchor under the foothold I’m locked in a comical struggle. It’s as though I’m a human teabag being dunked vigorously in the ocean, infusing the waves with my scent, and I’m acutely aware of rogue limbs escaping the safety boundary.
I expect sharks to flock in an instant, but for now there’s nothing but water to be seen. I do a double take when a dark mass finally looms into view, growing rapidly in size. With a twisted grin this behemoth swimmer appears more like Bruce – the friendly great white vegetarian from Finding Nemo – than a human-eating machine. It slips past with little recognition or interest in the cage’s contents, propelling forward with what can best be described as a sashay of non-existent hips. I feel as though I’m gliding, too. Instead of the panicked, heart-racing encounter I expected, it’s a calm and magnificent affair.
The aluminium provides a surreal sense of security, easing any fear of becoming tonight’s dinner. As hours pass and new visitors swing by, noticeable personalities emerge. Some glide past with nonchalance, others stalk the bait without fail, their lips peeling back and jaws cracking open to reveal a conveyor belt of teeth and fluted gills. One even has me “gooing” and “gaahing” as though it’s an adorable puppy.
Cage diving is most commonly experienced on day trips that shuffle through dozens of tourists. But cruising around on the Princess II means we’re free to take our time, and every second I spend underwater fosters a deeper appreciation for these creatures. It’s addictive, and I’ll gladly accept numb extremities and pruning skin if only for one more glimpse.
Ahead of the Peloton
Dan, a freshly graduated filmmaker at the time, developed a keen interest in cycling after watching his father’s videos. They served as inspiration for him to “tell human stories in the sporting world” using his own videography and production skills. Fast-forward a year and he’d scored the dream gig of making a feature-length documentary on the 2005 Tour de France, a project he repeated in 2007.
Despite feeling like “a shell of a man” by the time the race finished in Paris, Dan’s love affair with the tour continued. He covered the race for Fox Sports News between 2008 and 2011, but it was the birth of Australia’s own Orica-GreenEDGE team in 2012 (now Orica-Scott) that gave Dan his most significant break.
“I was friends with team owner [and founder] Gerry Ryan, so he approached me to come on board and film the journey with the team from its inception. He wanted to take fans along for the ride from the beginning,” Dan says. “I wanted to make content that appealed to not just your hardcore cycling fans but the wider audience, particularly those who know nothing about cycling.”
The pair rolled the dice and decided to do what no other cycling team had ever done – give their fans full behind the scenes access. The result was Backstage Pass, a distinctly Dan-Jones-flavoured YouTube series that doesn’t hold back on the laughter, the swearing or the silly jokes, but also captures the raw emotion and tension that comes with life on tour.
For the first time, Backstage Pass gave the public a glimpse beyond the secretive veil of cycling and into the lives of athletes who are not only determined and meticulous, but also down-to-earth, relatable and often very funny. In a sport whose public image has been so marred by doping controversies, these human stories provide a welcome breath of fresh air.
As an integral part of the team, Dan has spent between 150 and 200 days a year – or “a lot of hotel rooms”, as he describes it – on tour with Orica-Scott. His work has taken him to a host of countries in South America, Africa, Asia and across Western Europe. He’s spent a lot of time in Spain, where he was based with the team from 2013–16, and Brazil, with its aromatic food and frenzied passion for sport, remains a standout destination for him.
If he ever needs some extra inspiration for his work, Dan doesn’t have to look much further than Orica-Scott’s lead rider, Esteban Chaves. The fresh-faced Colombian with the cheeky grin had his promising career interrupted in early 2013, when a disastrous crash left him in a coma for two weeks. His injuries included a compound fracture of the collarbone, a smashed cheekbone and extensive nerve damage in his right arm. Nine of the 10 doctors consulted said Esteban would never ride again.
Not only did Esteban get back on the bike, but he made a mockery of his setbacks in 2016 by claiming podium finishes in both the Giro d’Italia and the Vuelta a España. Dan was there to film his entire journey.
“He defied the odds and has become one of the best riders in the world, but never lost the common touch,” Dan says. “He always has time for the fans and is super courteous to the staff and his teammates. A true legend both on and off the bike.”
Esteban’s story proved one of the main drivers behind Dan’s biggest project to date: the 2017 release of his first feature film, All For One.
“After Esteban’s breakthrough 2015 Vuelta, where he won two stages and held the leader’s jersey for a number of days, I knew the time was right to start work on a feature film,” he says.
All For One further showcases Dan’s ability to walk the line between humour and gravity. It traces Orica-Scott’s journey from its infancy up until the 2016 season, when the team celebrated some of its most iconic moments. Dan and his colleagues received recognition for their countless hours of work when the film won the Audience Award for Best Documentary at this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival.
“The reactions we have had to the film have been unbelievable,” he says. “I’ve received a huge amount of messages from people who have been touched by the film and the stories of mateship, determination and courage in a sport that had been tainted by controversy for so long.”
After 12 years on the bike, Dan’s involvement with cycling has just come to an end, with the 2017 Vuelta his last tour with Orica-Scott. His attention is now firmly focused on his newborn son, William, and his wedding later this year.
There are plenty of possibilities on the horizon, however. Dan is looking forward to “mixing things up a bit” and is considering making a tennis documentary in the future. But for the moment, his goals have “shifted from professional aspirations to being the best father and husband I can be”.
Because in the race of life, family always comes first.
Dive into Lord Howe’s pristine waters
It’s only 500 nautical miles off the east coast of Australia, yet when you touch down on the two- by 11-kilometre reef-fringed isle that is Lord Howe Island you’ll feel like you’ve landed on another planet. You won’t find high-rise resorts or traffic jams here; in fact, you won’t even see a traffic light! With only 350 locals and guest numbers limited to just 400 people per night, the archipelago is a veritable tropical oasis. If that wasn’t cool enough, the isle also has dual protection: it’s a marine park and UNESCO World Heritage-listed site. Thus, the coral reef system is perfectly pristine and the warm ocean waters offer visibility averaging between 25 to 30 metres year-round. The mix of tropical and subtropical marine life means you’ll encounter a diverse range of coral, fish and various other crustaceans, and with over 80 dive sites to choose from there is something for everyone.
One such diving experience is the bi-annual Dive Week at Pinetrees Lodge. Held in December and January each year, you’ll learn key skills like managing strong currents, buoyancy and air consumption, then get the chance to venture into new and secret areas around the island where no divers have been before – a truly unique and exciting experience. Expect to see lots of marine life; think Galapagos Whaler sharks, crays, rays and turtles, as well as locals like Double Headed Maori Wrasse and Ballina Angelfish which aren’t found anywhere else on earth. Weather permitting, you’ll also dive beside the spectacular Balls Pyramid, the world’s largest sea stack, set 25 kilometres off the coast and bursting more than 500 metres into the air. Here, you’ll see incredible walls of fish including Silver Drummer, Amberjack and occasionally marlin and dolphins.
At the end of each day, kick back on the balcony with a cold bevvy while watching the sun sink below the ocean and tuck into a gourmet meal before crashing into a comfy bed, ready to do it all again the next day.
Get Off the Grid at Pinetrees Lodge
Imagine being able to truly switch off – no gadgets, no social media, no connection to the outside world – and simply head out with just your towel, a tube of sunscreen, the wind in your hair and the sound of ocean waves washing up on the shore. Sounds like bliss, right? Well, just a 90-minute flight from Australia’s major cities Sydney and Brisbane, Pinetrees Lodge on Lord Howe Island is the definition of a digital detox. Surrounded by sparkling white sands and fringe pristine waters filled with vibrant corals and marine life, this slice of paradise will see you happily swapping 24/7 connection for serenity.
In keeping with being off the radar, not only is the resort a wifi, mobile reception and TV-free zone – temptations to check social media, email and world news, be gone! – its eco-friendly rooms will ensure you remain immersed in your new surrounds: think plush bedding for a blissful night’s sleep, and louvre windows and french doors that open onto private timber decks and hinterland-like gardens. You won’t even need to carry around your wallet or room key; all meals are included (you’ll have four tantalising gourmet sittings each day) and the island is so safe that the rooms don’t even have keys.
Without a care in the world, you can truly embrace your surrounds. Spend your days exploring pristine beaches, cliff edges and spectacular view points along the island’s many walking trails or exploring the world’s most southern coral reef by boat, snorkel or scuba. In the evenings, tuck into a world-class meal before settling back with a glass of wine to watch the sunset, play a game of pool with other guests, or linger in the library, curled up with a good book.
Before you jet off for your newfound tech-free sanctuary, we must confess: you can access the internet and use landline phones on the island, but once you’ve gotten over your initial withdrawals you’ll discover a sojourn here will likely be one of the most rejuvenating experiences of your life. Spamming your friends with your jaw-dropping photos when you get home however? Completely acceptable.
The Aquarium of Western Australia
What if you could save yourself a road trip of more than 12,500km and experience all five zones of Western Australia’s coast – southern coast, Shipwreck coast, Perth coast, Far North coast and Marmion Marine Park – in one place?
The Aquarium of Western Australia (AQWA) is located in Perth’s Hillary’s Boat Harbour and has one of the largest living coral reef exhibits in the world. Its 98 metre underwater tunnel plus its surrounding exhibits offer a unique view of Western Australia’s vibrant coral reefs, livened by an array of stingrays, turtles, fish and sharks, which welcome a swimming lesson with humans through the aquariums in-house dive master.
You won’t find dolphins, seals or whales in this aquarium, though, as AQWA doesn’t keep marine mammals here. Instead, AQWA has partnered with Mills Charters and Rottness Fast Ferries to offer whale watching tours, giving visitors the best opportunity to experience it all.
There are two SCUBA and three snorkel programs available, plus behind the scenes and sleepover programs, making it a fun way to immerse yourself in this underworld haven of wonder, education and interaction. You can even ‘Dine Beneath the Sea’ – an experience for those who want a truly memorable experience.
Feast on Rarotonga’s most authentic fare with locals
If you’ve ever lamented not being able to indulge in the odd dinner party while abroad then fret no longer: you can dine with not one, but three different families on Rarotonga’s Progressive Dinner Tour, stopping at different houses for your starter, main and dessert. From cool tiled terraces overlooking the hills to tables lined up on the front lawn of old colonial houses and spreads laid on in back gardens where the ocean laps the shore, the magical mystery tour promises a different house (and experience) each time.
While every family will showcase their own signature dishes, it’s unlikely you’ll hit the hay without sampling ika mata, a raw, white fish dish that’s marinated with coconut cream and ‘cooked’ with lemon juice; violet rounds of dense yet creamy taro; and platters full of tropical fresh fruit, perfect for cutting through Rarotonga’s balmy climes. All while listening to the mellifluous sounds of your designated drivers playing the ukulele. And as one host pointed out, the tour offers access to the heart of a Rarotonga you mightn’t have seen before: “We know you have come here to eat local food, to talk to locals. It’s not always genuine in the hotels, but we – we are genuine.”
Melbourne’s secret rooftop terrace
With an address on Exploration Lane it’s no surprise Fraser Place Melbourne makes for a choice home base while you delve into Melbourne’s finest wares. After all, sampling expertly roasted coffee in Degraves Street, lining for Chin Chin’s exquisite sashimi and clinking icy beers at Rooftop Bar – all a short stroll away through the city’s famous laneways – make for time very well spent.
So you might be surprised if someone suggested you grab a bottle of plonk and hole up at said serviced apartments instead.
But that’s exactly what you should do.
Gracing the top floor of one of Fraser Place’s two high-rise towers is a rooftop terrace that no one seems to have noticed. Not even Melburnians, who love nothing more than to hangout on the summits of buildings before anyone else beats them there. Especially if the entrance is down an alleyway.
Decked out with tables and comfy chairs, potted succulents and planters flush with fresh herbs, this terrace offers prime cityscape viewing reserved solely for apartment guests. And with its orientation – poised on the structure’s western-facing front – it’s just where you want to be when sunset spills between the skyscrapers, sending golden light to dance upon the glass, giving off tones of peach, silver and aquamarine.
From here, it doesn’t take much navigating to find the Queen Victoria Market, less than a 20-minute walk away. Stock up on fresh fruit, vegetables and fine cuts of meat to prepare in the apartment’s kitchen. But you’ll find the market’s real treasure trove is the Art Deco deli hall. You should emerge with parcels of spicy salami, garlic-laced olives, a Tasmanian cheddar or a Gippsland blue – the makings of a superb terrace picnic.
For the accompanying wine, though, there’s nothing better than buying a bottle direct from the source. And some of Victoria’s best grapes ripen on vines in the Yarra Valley, just an hour’s drive away. So Fraser Place has teamed up with Autopia Tours to transport guests wishing to indulge in some of life’s finest pastimes (read: imbibing wine, feasting on exquisite cuisine and savouring morsels of silky chocolate) out to this picturesque region.
On this small group day trip you’ll watch the city awaken yet still be sipping Yarra Valley strawberry liqueur by 9.30am over platters of cheese and relish. You’ll let loose on wines at three vineyards, as well as a cider house and brewery, try your hand at pétanque (winner takes home a bottle) and sample bite after bite of rocky road at a chocolaterie, where flavours range from maple candy bacon and Golden Gaytime to ginger and lemon myrtle and matcha tea.
This is the type of destination that shows off each season, so be sure to peer beyond your glass throughout the wine-soaked journey. In autumn the leaves turn brilliant merlot-red and egg-yolk yellow and mobs of kangaroos thump around the vines. Winter brings mist to cloak the valley, while roaring wood fires in tasting rooms warm chilly limbs and glasses of award-winning pinot take care of mouths and bellies. Spring promises sprightly new leaves. And in summer: endless blue skies.
After unearthing a bounty of liquid gold, your pioneering team will return you to Fraser Place Melbourne, just in time for a sunset drink on your very own VIP terrace.
The Art of Travel
There is a magpie goose drawn X-ray style with a yabby in its stomach. There are barramundi, dugong, sawfish, Macassan traders, stingrays, a man smoking a pipe, two rifles and enough handprints to form a deafening round of applause.
But it is silent. It is a privilege just stepping on this hallowed ground, let alone witnessing this majestic spectacle, and our small party is suitably reverential. On the floor of this protected cave are circular grooves where people over thousands of years have ground ochre. In the corner, stashed into a crevice, is an ancient skeleton, now a bundle of sticks and bleached bones.
We’re near Mt Borradaile, in a special area of north-west Arnhem Land, where visitors are welcomed and introduced to its splendour. More than 30 years ago, a buffalo hunter called Max Davidson stumbled upon the incredible art of the area and over time he was given permission to run a tourism venture here. The multi-award-winning Davidson’s Arnhemland Safaris has now been running for 31 years, introducing about 700 people each year to Arnhem Land’s beauty, rich wildlife and culture.
And as Max knows, the 700 square kilometres of land he cares for is extraordinary.
“There’s so much art here, some I’ve never even been back to,” he says. “We find some stuff that is so remote you can be assured that no white person has ever seen it before. We find ceremonial areas; we find artefacts – it’s really mind blowing.”
As a special treat for repeat guests, Max and his capable crew sometimes organise special off-track exploratory trips, where they go looking for more hidden treasures.
Even the campsite here is a bit of a hidden treasure. It has an inviting pool, deluxe cabins, tented cabins with ensuites and a swish new bar and lounge. It’s about an hour’s flight from Darwin, though it’s more fun to drive a 4WD through Kakadu and then into Arnhem Land. Either way, you’ll need a permit to explore Arnhem Land’s secrets, but Max will take care of all of that for you.
We make sure to include on our permit a stop at the Injalak art centre at Oenpelli, so we can see today’s painters and screen printers at work. We also take the time to do the Injalak Hill tour to get an introduction to the wealth of rock art.
Once at Davidson’s camp, all tours, food and accommodation are included, so you only have to pay for alcohol; don’t be tempted to BYO, as it’s illegal to bring alcohol into Arnhem Land.
We meet our tour guide, the tough-as-nails Clare Wallwork, a long-term outback guide whose safari singlet top reveals arms rubbed raw from mozzie bites. We accelerate through the savanna of woollybutts, stringybarks, livistonia palms and pandanus in a 35-year-old 4WD, which is missing its windscreen and various other bits. “I’ll just turn up the aircon a bit,” jokes Clare.
Suddenly she pulls to a halt beside a massive termite mound. “The soil here is really rich in iron, which is why some of the termite mounds are so red. When the women were menstruating they used to grab chunks of the termite mounds and eat it.”
Clare then points out a billy goat plum, with small green fruits the size of an olive. “These plums are said to have 50 times more vitamin C than an orange,” she says. “A lot of early explorers and white settlers would be sitting under a billy goat plum, dying of scurvy, but they wouldn’t touch it because it was supposedly the food of savages.”
Next Clare introduces us to soap bush, quinine trees and flowering turkey bushes. “They are used for aching joints,” she says, rubbing the leaves and purpley pink flowers together to make a pungent lemony scent. It even smells medicinal.
Later, on a walking tour, we pass a paperbark swamp with frog-mouth lilies and flowering wattles, to an area of carved out dark catacombs with hidden rock pools and microbats flitting around. Rock figs stretch up and around the entrance to the catacombs. More art adorns the walls, including simple figures standing in a line holding hands as if they were dancing.
In one secret little hidey-hole is a cache of artefacts, which show the eons and clash of cultures here – a ball of beeswax, wooden spear points, balls of ochre, fire sticks, a stone adze, a tin matchbox and a hand-carved rosewood domino. “This was found exactly like this,” Clare says.
After a much-needed dip in a stunning pandanus and paperbark-lined waterhole, we cruise on to a three-kilometre lily-covered billabong, surrounded by thousands of waterbirds.
The sun sets and paints the sky and water gold, orange and yellow. Whiskered terns fly over the water. Darters, pied cormorants and comb-crested jacanas are everywhere. Not to mention rainbow bee-eaters, spoonbill, green pygmy geese and night herons among the freshwater mangroves, brolgas, jabirus and dragonflies.
As the last colours of sunset disappear, the egrets become thick in the trees, and magpie geese form lines in the sky, weaving the ongoing story of Arnhem Land into the ancient tapestry of the landscape itself.
Binge on seafood at Aitutaki’s best cafe
If eating dinner in the extension of a stranger’s living room sounds unappealing then Tupuna’s might not be the restaurant for you. But if the prospect of devouring home-cooked fare with your feet in the sand lights your fire then read on.
The only independent restaurant on the island to offer fine dining, Tupuna’s is a masterclass in casual culinary decadence. The chilli lime fish – an updated take on local classic ika mata – is a house special. Chunks of lime-doused raw fish fill a coconut shell, adorned with a side of the Cooks’ ubiquitous arrowroot fries – dense, nutty shards with crisp edges and rich, buttery centres.
Fish is always the flavour of the day in this tropical archipelago, and the plump fillets of freshly grilled wahoo and tuna (the catch of the day), served with a medley of charred, caramelised and slightly bitter root vegetables, won’t disappoint.
There’s a cosy country kitchen vibe, with a colour palette of creamy yellows and cool orange, and a warm clutter of bits and pieces: pans dangle from the ceiling; paintings of idyllic seascapes line the walls, illuminated by tea lights; glasses and teapots knock shoulders on shelves next to cookbooks and a blackboard scrawled with specials.
If the portions prove too huge to handle then three-legged Soda, the resident moggy, will likely lend a helping paw.
