Hunter Valley: Day 1

Welcome to wine country...

I had myself a mini road trip oop north to the famous Hunter Valley along with my favourite Germans; Zoe, Michael, Wiebke and Freddirika (To save my fingers and (spell check) I will just say 'Ze Germans', which is the collective term for any group of krauts). I had to meet Ze Germans at Europcar on William Street on Tuesday morning to pick up the car,

Pictured: Not Europcar

After lots of form filling and all that boring stuff we loaded up 'big red' and set off towards the hills and vines of Hunter Valley.

The vines were fine, but the hills were a bit of a challenge for the automatic Korean hatchback.

It isn't that far from Sydney if you decide to drive the hire car like... Well, a hire car!

Air con to the max and foot to the floor, it's a hire car, baby, and that is what they're for!

So we made it with no trouble what-so-ever and in record time. However, the YHA had check-in before 12 or after 5, which meant we had to cruise around the vineyards and check in later (woe betide) so first up was Scarborough,

What do you call 4 Germans and a Korean? Um... My companions.

Don't let the name put you off, it didn't remind me of cold beaches and Yorkshiremen.

After sampling just the whites (as I was driving, remember) and a reeeeaally sweet dessert wine, we bought a bottle of rose, I think, in preparation for New Year's Eve and made our way to Pokolbin Brothers. I also had my first taste of the same wines from differing years, the difference was quite noticeable, which surprised me as I never really cared for all that 'the 2008 is much less citrussy than the 2010' nonsense that TV chefs and the posh nobs talk about.

Not quite as pretty as Scarborough's surroundings, but I'm not one to judge a book by its cover. The gentleman behind the bar was nice and explained in detail the history of the place and how the Pokolbin Brothers' always get the first press of the grapes, plus they don't use chemicals because 'nobody washes the grapes before pressing them', which is something to think about next time you reach for the box of goon. The wines were quite nice, but as I'm more of a beer man, I couldn't tell you if they were nicer or worse than the previous wines I tasted, all I know is Semillon is very nice.

Next stop, as recommended by the guy at Pokolbin Brothers, was Waverly Estate,

as the barrel clearly states.

Very nice surroundings, but this one had a nice little surprise in the form of a sparkling shiraz. I'm not much of a champagne man, I prefer a beer if given the choice, but the fizzy red was very nice, so nice that we bought a bottle for New Year's Eve. The guy behind the counter said that it is made the same way as champagne (something about fermenting a second time in the bottle) but the French got a bit uppity about the use of the word 'champagne' a while back as people were abusing the title by calling 'carbonated wine' 'champagne' instead of 'cheap fizzy plonk'. The other wines (the white ones at least) were very nice also, but the sparkling shiraz was especially nice.

After stopping at a closed vineyard, 

Pictured: Closed

we made our way onwards to Peterson's, which is supposedly a big deal as it is a champagne house, not a 'fizzy plonk' house. 

Picturesque surroundings once agai...

Oh come on, tickling people with plants? How many tasters have you had?

Once we'd taken a few snaps (and got tickled) we entered the winery ('winery' is not a word according to spell check). I didn't partake in the tastings this time around but the girls did. I did grin slightly when Freddi described her thoughts on one sample in German to the others, but didn't realise that 'Cinzano' and 'Asti' are the same in English and not exactly 'all that'. The look on the woman serving the samples was that of a bulldog chewing a wasp as Freddi said that it reminded her of a drink they get in Germany.

Not unlike how the smell of tramps' piss reminds us all of a drink we get in the UK.

The whole experience felt 'touristy', with umbrellas and pink wine bottle cool bags littering the room emblazoned with the winery name and the word 'blush', which is apparently a champagne.

Outside the winery was the Hunter Valley Chocolate shop in which you could purchase chocolate from an array of different imaginings, from chilli chocolate, to chocolate fondue, to different nuts covered in chocolate, chocolate strawberries, what I call 'pun chocolate',

I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE!

And this must be the Japanese businessman section.

We chilled out in the 35oC heat for a bit before moving on to Audrey Wilkinson's. We crawled along a dirt track (scratches = deposit), the road then returned to tarmac as it swept up the side of a hill, past the vines and roses to a large building atop the hill,

They make wine here?

Unfortunately it was closed as the clock had reached 5PM (just about) so Ze Germans and I cruised back down the hill and far away to visit Mistletoe for a twilight tasting. 

The site was unique in that it was full of sculptures, all by local artists. I stuck to the whites, but treated myself to a taste of a white fortified wine that was amazing. Orangey hints and a smooth finish made it one of my favourites as the brandy didn't overpower the taste or leave that alcohol aroma that I usually have after sipping brandy. The lady mentioned that if served over ice the orangey hints become more pronounced. But that was probably the only time I'll ever drink it, unless I return and buy a bottle for myself. After our final tasting session of a most excellent day we wondered the grounds to look at some of the sculptures.

Of course we respected the art.

BAM! Dragonfly! Didn't expect that did you?!

We cruised to the YHA (as we could check in now), taking in the landscape and realising once again that the Hunter Valley is a really nice place.

Yes, this is a hostel.

Dinner time, and where better than the pub/brewery a short walk up the road? Finally, a chance to try some locally brewed beer after a hard day drink driving responsibly.

My favourite colour! (It was a nice beer too)

HOLY CRAP! Pie and mash?! I would suggest I was dreaming but the mushy peas were not quite right, so I knew I was concious.

The clouds had formed a bond as we enjoyed our meal and humidity was high. There was talk of a stormy night coming and we were on the edge of it. As we walked along the road to the hostel great flashes pulsed through the sky as the storm began in the distance, and in the distance it stayed as we had a few beers (after a shower) outside the room we barley felt anything that could be considered a storm. The rain fell in small bursts and the thunder only reached our ears twice, but to watch the huge bolts descend from the heavens as we sat comfortably as if watching events on a cinema screen was a great way to end the day. Michael and I whipped out our cameras and decided to try to capture the lightning... unfortunately all I got was darkness...

Darkness...

Darkness...

More darkness...

Just goes to show it's not the size that counts when a £60 compact camera can capture something as awe inspiring as 3 simultaneous bolts of pure power! 

Michael got his one too, a cracking shot of a red bolt of lightning, something I wouldn't have noticed if he didn't capture it. And so we saw out the evening with a few beers and the odd mosquito bite, tomorrow would prove to be another good day, but with less wine and beer.

To be continued...