Webs and Wineries

I have a problem.
It’s not a problem I thought I’d have too much trouble with, but it’s rearing its little head and seems to be worse than I thought.
Salsa withdrawal.
It’s like not eating chocolate for a couple of weeks, but worse.
And the annoying thing is, if I’d had my passport on me on Thursday I could have got into the Deen in Perth and at least had a bit of a boogie, even if the local standard (and I’m quoting a local salsero here, so don’t shoot the messenger) isn’t that good. Grr, stoopid bouncers.
Still, I shall look forward to the salsa in Melbourne on 11th Feb, which is an event called ‘She Leads, He Heeds’ which could be fun – not sure what time I’ll get there as I touch down on the 11th, or what to expect, but I’m sure there’ll be a few people up for a bit of a twirl around the dance floor to some latin grooves if nothing else!

Anyway, dreaming salsa aside, we had a lovely day today…
I don’t think you have to actually go somewhere to be excited, enchanted and reassured by the fact that it exists and can be visited. After all, there is always next time, and the thought that there may be a next time is, I think, what keeps a lot of people going, whether it’s something as small as the next time they go to the chocolate machine or have a hug, or something huge, like the next baby, or the next international holiday. I guess looking forward to things is half the fun, and the other half is looking back; you’re just the tiny cusp in the middle where it all happens. Which is why I’m writing this – so I can remember it all, and live that little cusp again, and enjoy the sights and smells that I’ve seen, and share the joy of them with other people through words and pictures and enthusiasm…

Burble, burble, burble, on with the story!

It is scorching today away from the coast, which is where we are headed, and I think what a harsh life it must be for some people, carving a living for themselves from this inhospitable terrain. People are so spread out here, so few of them over such a wide area. But I guess that’s actually quite nice – until you get bitten by a redback or need to borrow a cup of sugar!
Jim, Sonya and I head for Mundaring Weir, which seems to be a good place for walking and cycling in the Perth Hills. We stop off at a Tourist Information place (in the back of an old school) and pick up some leaflets on the local area, its walks and cycle trails (Jim and Sonya like cycling… I don’t particularly. I’m very bad, I have to get off to turn corners…).
Once at Mundaring Weir, we decide to do the little loop walk to a look out point over the Weir. It is interesting. The thing that hits me first and the most is the scent. Everywhere is hot, dry and dusty, but it still manages to smell fresh, clean and inviting. The tart, tarry scent of the eucalyptus is tempered with something else, maybe hot, sweet earth, which lends it a soft and spicy scent not unlike that of the Corsican Maquis… It is most inviting, and the spiny bushes, and tall green and white trees are an enticement rather than a deterrent. There are many pot-shaped gum nuts lying on the ground between the trees; they are large, and I want to bring one home, though am nervous of picking one up in case it already has a fearsome but tiny inhabitant! The pale silvery trunks and the fierce green of the leaves of the trees contrast beautifully with the rich, searing blue of the cloudless sky. We walk through the scrub, up and down the path marked with blue arrows, to the lookout point, where we see a huge expanse of deep turquoise fresh water. It was built at the turn of the last century to provide water to the gold fields, and the main pipeline is still called the Golden Pipeline. It’s an impressive feat of engineering, though we can’t actually see the dam itself from here. We take some photos and head back through the blazing heat of the bush towards the car. The trees, slim that they are, offer little in the way of protection, and I am wearing heaps of sunscreen. Suddenly, Sonya spots a web in front of us, and we look at its occupant. Jim speculates as to whether this little beastie is one of the ones that leaps on your face and sucks your eyes out... So none of us gets too close!
The web is considerably larger than a dinner plate and drips with some sort of sticky goo that glistens in the sun at the end of each thread and along the trails of the orb. Sitting squat in the centre is a very confused looking individual. He has neon yellow blobs around his body, some red spots and tops this odd-looking display off with some sturdy black points at each corner. If I remember correctly, this is the little chap I didn’t mange to meet last time I was in Aus, the Christmas Spider, so called because of his resemblance to a Christmas bauble. He seems unconcerned by our presence, but we decide to go around his web anyway, rather than underneath as we can’t be absolutely certain that he’s not venomous to humans. I seem to remember he isn’t, but wasn’t about to risk mine or anyone else’s life to find out!




















A couple of moments later, as Jim is leading, me in the middle and Sonya bringing up the rear, there is nearly a cartoon moment of walking into one another. Sonya calls ‘Look, Jim, there’s another one…- Stop!’ and he does. I avoid walking into the back of him and we peer at this second Christmas Spider, dangling at eye level in the path. His web depends from a distant tree and various bushes, so we admire him for a moment, then limbo beneath his orb. There are others, mainly off the path, though we make a couple more small detours to avoid them. I begin to feel a little like Bilbo Baggins in Shelob’s forest, though the arachnids here are far prettier!

We drive to the other side of the Weir (a dam and a lake really, but they call it a Weir, though that conjures up images in my head of summer breezes, afternoon tea and boating on the river, bobbing ducks and gentle streams, which this definitely is not!). It is a massive lake, with a good solid wall behind it, larger than I’ve ever seen. It takes us five good minutes to walk most of the way across it, with the wind whipping heavily at our clothing and tearing our words away. It is a warm wind, but welcome nonetheless in the heat (around 33 degrees today, so fairly pleasant still). The narrow bridge we walk along is not greatly reassuring with these hands of air trying to tear your belongings aw2ay from you. But we make it happily to the other side, and I take more photos; the bridge itself is an elegant structure, with a small reconstructed period building towards one end – I believe this would once have housed levers and valves for controlling the water flow, which is sadly silent today as the water level is very low. This doesn’t prevent this body of water from being an imposing presence though!

We meet some other people for lunch. Now we are three Jims, Pat, Angie, Clare and Sonya – so the guys are sorted then – only one new name to remember! We lunch at the Mundaring Weir Hotel, which looks relatively pleasant on the outside, if a little run-down. The bar inside is busy and smells of stale beer, though it is large and well-stocked and provides us with what we need. It is a nice place to stop for a drink though it is decidedly ‘quirky’ and clearly a bikers’ pub – there are many of them already there, and a constant stream of them comes through as we sit and drink, and subsequently eat.

The correct mode of attire sign definitely signifies a biker bar, as it includes insignia banned from the pub of outlawed biker groups, one of which is the “Coffin Cheaters”. I am intrigued by this idea and want to know why these groups are so outlawed – possibly not at first hand though, they don’t sound like people you could take home for tea…
Full of Solo and very good pizza and chips, we meander into the craft centre here; little of note, though it is interesting to record that it smelt identical to every other craft centre I have ever been in anywhere in the world – a combination of lavender, herbs, spices, soap, wood carving and fresh varnish… Interesting.
We decide to head to a winery.
Hooray!
;)




It’s funny how the bus shelters are so brightly painted here. Little concrete huts are made bright and exciting by the addition of some paint and inspiration – this one is bright primary colours, apart from the end section, where there are two holes. These two holes have been highlighted by the artist and a very realistic Barn owl face glares largely down the road.
We pick the Darlington Wineries as they seem to be on the way; some map reading is required, but after one small wrong turn we are soon pulling up through the elegant cast iron gates of DarlingTon wineries. We park and meander in to sample their wares and chill for a bit. We girls (Sonya, me and Angela) agree that it would be a good place for a wedding reception, with its nice external seating area, peaceful feel and beautifully isolated bush location. And good wines of course!
We seat ourselves at a well-appointed bar, and taste a few. The first white we taste, which to my palate is quite dry, is nonetheless pleasant and fruity, with an acidic aftertaste. The second white, a Sauvignon Blanc, a so acidic that it makes my mouth water, though there is an interesting flavour hiding in there, and no acrid kick afterwards. The final white, which only I try, the other girls preferring a rosé, is called Late Harvest and is bursting with sweetness, appley and fresh, but gives also an interesting lemony aftertaste which just rescues it from being cloying. Rather nice I thought. I always seem to go for the ones which have been harvested later in the year, when the grapes are sweeter and the juice more rounded. Not that I’m a wine buff – I’ll need more practice for that. He he.
Though hopefully, after my ‘experiment’ when I get back, I might be able to drink small amounts of red again… Maybe…
We finish our tasting and decide to order drinks outside too. We sip them in the gentle atmosphere, listening to a girl on acoustic guitar who sounds a lot like a gentle version of KT Tunstall. There is a small child in white, less than two years old, who runs around, quietly, and interested in everything. I think she must be the musician’s daughter or something, because she toddles up to the stage in an interested manner and cocks her head at the singer, listening intently, before being scooped up by another lady all in black. That looked like a precious moment, that one little cameo, the singer in black, singing a melancholy yet quite pretty little song, standing with her guitar in the shadows, and then along comes this little thing, all perky and bright-eyed, staring up at the singer with all her attention, blonde hair and white dress shining in the sun…
There are three black and white crows squabbling over a crust behind our table. One of them must win or get spooked, because, with a great kerfuffle, they suddenly all take flight and flap away in opposite directions, making unearthly noises, like a squashed cat or screaming baby. I rescue Angie from a bug in her hair. He has thighs like Linford Christie, but the rest of him is slender… He flies away after a perfunctory inspection to see what he was. Definitely a long-jumping bug! ;)
I like the phrase I hear in passing conversation, describing a good night out: ‘A time you’ll never remember with friends you’ll never forget’. I like that.

;)