And while you may be thinking to yourself that YOU would have tested this theory several times before flinging yourself before the mercy of the elements, remember that the 85 degrees and warm southerly breeze would be enticing you to remove your clothing as quickly as possible (especially after the snow and ice endured up north). By midafternoon I had a mild inclination that I could be getting a sunburn, but it felt surprisingly refreshing at the time, like the first blast of heat upon entering a sauna. Come evening it was clear that something was horribly wrong...the heat of the afternoon was subsiding outside, while my skin remained in the sauna. I couldn't understand where I had gone wrong, that is until Jill and Mary, both native to the southern hemisphere and familiar with my predicament, explained the fault in my logic. The culprit? Ozone. Unbeknowst to me, it has a tendency to come and go in this part of the world, so while one day may yield little (or at least normal) radiation, the next can be quite different. Not only that, but the malicious southern sun is especially good at picking out the most awkward parts to burn, leaving me with burned spots on the forearms (farmer tan), feet (teva tan), ears (dumbo tan), back of neck (redneck tan), nose (rudolph tan), and the patches of forehead on either side of my receding hair line (baldy tan). Put them together and you've got the honky American hopeless asshole tan (HAHA tan). The forehead burn was by far the worst, perhaps because my forehead has been more or less covered since the last time I had my hair this short...leaving for summer camp about 13 years ago. Perhaps I should have used sunblock you say? Perhaps you shouldn't have used aerosol...jerk.Deciding I was no longer fit to be left to my own devices, Colin and Mary took the next couple of days from work to show me around the Mornington Peninsula. The first stop was Cape Shank, a national park along the southern tip of the peninsula with tide pools, really cool rock formations, and a lighthouse. Out to prove that they could not suppress my idiot tourist instincts, I insisted on crossing an active tide pool to have my picture taking with the waves violently crashing on shore. On a rock. Upon which the waves were violently crashing. In retrospect there were many things that could have gone wrong (rogue wave, bad balance, earthquake, acrobatic shark), but what a picture!
Upon leaving, we discovered that the gate at the exit required financial incentive to move, and spent about 20 minutes scouring the depth of Luke (the Renault) for change. Feeling humbled and poor, we went wine tasting.
Mornington really does has some fantastic wineries, producing some interesting and really refreshing reds and whites unlike many regions I've tasted. Some of my favorites included Main Ridge (great pinot), Paringa (really bright chardonnay and stinky, funky shiraz...in a good way), and Eldrige. David and Wendy Lloyd are a husband (winemaker) and wife (everything else) team behind Eldrige, and were also the ones who got me the pouring gig at the Mornington IPNC. They were both teachers until the 90's, and decided to take a chance and delve into the wine business, mortgaging everything they owned (several times) to plant a few acres and build a winery, which doubles as their house. Today, they managed to pay back everything they owed and are now living the dream, proof positive that it is possible to live the good life making wine even if you don't have millions to start with. Some times all you need is good credit, a little bit of patience, passion, dedication, and a dash of luck. They are some of the nicest people I have met (even by wine industry standards), and I happily traded them some help setting bird nets for the chance to taste through their cellar. Great stuff.
Later in the week Dave and Steph, some old college friends of Colin and Mary, came down for a visit, stopping down on their way to vintage in the Barossa valley. As we discovered over a few beers that afternoon, I had met Dave and Steph before. Dave had been thinking about working a vintage at Cristom two years ago, and had stopped by for a visit. Steve, the winemaker at Cristom, had been out of town that day so I had ended up giving them a tour of the facilities. Both Dave and Steph remembered the tour, and while he had decided to do vintage elsewhere, I was assured the tour wasn't what made his decision. It really is a small world.
I wouldn't be able to close the Australian chapter without saying a bit about the bush fires, which are the worst national disaster in Austalia's history. For those of you who haven't seen the international news in awhile, last Saturday while southern Australia was experiencing record heat (115 degrees) several fires broke out across the area north of Melbourne, an area of bush country with a few small communities just outside the suburban boundary of the city. Some of these fires were natural, began by a thunderstorm the previous evening, others were lit by arsonists. The heat, high winds, and months of drought combined into the perfect storm, and literally wiped towns off the map. The fires were hot enough to be deadly from 400 meters away, and moved at speeds of 110km an hour. People were caught in their cars trying to flee, chased down by the flames, while those that stayed and fought never had a chance. It was nothing short of hell on earth. The only good news to come out of this is how the country has reacted, within days $30 million in donations had poured in, even during the recession, and the government was telling fire victims to notify their local member of Parliament should insurance companies give any evidence of dragging their feet. While the scale is quite different, I found myself comparing the Australian reaction to the American reaction to Hurricane Katrina. I can only hope that it won't take years for the refugees to move out of the emergency tents and that the Australian Prime Minister never appears on the cover of Time magazine have to apologize for how he behaved in the recovery. Given what I've seen and heard from the media and talking to people, somehow I don't think either will happen.
Having tasted some great wines, eaten bbq kangaroo, and obtained a ridiculous sunburn (now peeling), the time had arrived for me to return to New Zealand and begin the next leg of my adventure. I thanked Colin and Mary and bid them farewell, hoped a train and a bus to the airport, and departed the land down under.
Mornington really does has some fantastic wineries, producing some interesting and really refreshing reds and whites unlike many regions I've tasted. Some of my favorites included Main Ridge (great pinot), Paringa (really bright chardonnay and stinky, funky shiraz...in a good way), and Eldrige. David and Wendy Lloyd are a husband (winemaker) and wife (everything else) team behind Eldrige, and were also the ones who got me the pouring gig at the Mornington IPNC. They were both teachers until the 90's, and decided to take a chance and delve into the wine business, mortgaging everything they owned (several times) to plant a few acres and build a winery, which doubles as their house. Today, they managed to pay back everything they owed and are now living the dream, proof positive that it is possible to live the good life making wine even if you don't have millions to start with. Some times all you need is good credit, a little bit of patience, passion, dedication, and a dash of luck. They are some of the nicest people I have met (even by wine industry standards), and I happily traded them some help setting bird nets for the chance to taste through their cellar. Great stuff.Later in the week Dave and Steph, some old college friends of Colin and Mary, came down for a visit, stopping down on their way to vintage in the Barossa valley. As we discovered over a few beers that afternoon, I had met Dave and Steph before. Dave had been thinking about working a vintage at Cristom two years ago, and had stopped by for a visit. Steve, the winemaker at Cristom, had been out of town that day so I had ended up giving them a tour of the facilities. Both Dave and Steph remembered the tour, and while he had decided to do vintage elsewhere, I was assured the tour wasn't what made his decision. It really is a small world.
I wouldn't be able to close the Australian chapter without saying a bit about the bush fires, which are the worst national disaster in Austalia's history. For those of you who haven't seen the international news in awhile, last Saturday while southern Australia was experiencing record heat (115 degrees) several fires broke out across the area north of Melbourne, an area of bush country with a few small communities just outside the suburban boundary of the city. Some of these fires were natural, began by a thunderstorm the previous evening, others were lit by arsonists. The heat, high winds, and months of drought combined into the perfect storm, and literally wiped towns off the map. The fires were hot enough to be deadly from 400 meters away, and moved at speeds of 110km an hour. People were caught in their cars trying to flee, chased down by the flames, while those that stayed and fought never had a chance. It was nothing short of hell on earth. The only good news to come out of this is how the country has reacted, within days $30 million in donations had poured in, even during the recession, and the government was telling fire victims to notify their local member of Parliament should insurance companies give any evidence of dragging their feet. While the scale is quite different, I found myself comparing the Australian reaction to the American reaction to Hurricane Katrina. I can only hope that it won't take years for the refugees to move out of the emergency tents and that the Australian Prime Minister never appears on the cover of Time magazine have to apologize for how he behaved in the recovery. Given what I've seen and heard from the media and talking to people, somehow I don't think either will happen.
Having tasted some great wines, eaten bbq kangaroo, and obtained a ridiculous sunburn (now peeling), the time had arrived for me to return to New Zealand and begin the next leg of my adventure. I thanked Colin and Mary and bid them farewell, hoped a train and a bus to the airport, and departed the land down under.
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