“If you say you don’t like Chardonnay then you haven’t tried Chardonnay from the Margaret River,” enthuses our host from Western Australia Tourism. Cory slowly pours a glass of the straw-coloured wine into my glass, as the sun slips behind the field of naked vines in front of us.
A black Labrador – a “cellar door dog” – nestles up to my feet as if to say: “Go on mate, take a sip, you are in for a treat.” I think I taste pears and limes, maybe some floral notes, but I am not really sure. What I do know is that it delicious: Cory is right, this is a special wine.
I am at Voyager Estate in southwest Western Australia. Its lush gardens, kempt lawns and Dutch Manor House – a nod to the owner’s love of South Africa and its winelands – look as timeless as the hills beyond but have been here for less than 50 years.
A guide-cum-sommelier talks us through Voyager’s organic farming and winemaking approach, before we sit down to a seven-course “degustation” lunch experience, with each dish paired with one of those organic wines.
Premium producers
It wasn’t until the 1960s that the oenologists and viticulturists fathomed that, hemmed in on three sides by the ocean and cooled by maritime breezes, Margaret River was perfect for growing quality wine grapes.
It took another two decades until the first Chardonnay hit the bottles, but a string of major industry awards soon followed – and they have kept coming ever since. Today, although producing just 2% of Australia’s annual grape crush, Margaret River wineries account for 20% of Australia’s premium wines.
Wine estates such as Leeuwin (named after the Dutch ship that in 1620 was the first to map the Margaret River coastline), Xanadu, Vasse Felix* and Brown Hill are top spots for many visitors to the region.
But wine and locally sourced cuisine are just two of many draw cards in Margaret River, a collective name given to a region, a town and, yes, a river.
It is also a place of fiery, rose-coloured sunsets, towering forests, rocky coastlines, sandy beaches, sheltered coves, caves, lush green pastures – and a host of local producers, artisans and small operators who are keen to show off those culinary treats and natural wonders of the region they are clearly proud to call home.
Cape to cape track
One such character is Sean Blocksidge, owner of the award-winning Margaret River Discovery Company. Our group climb into his 4X4 and, a short distance out of town, he leads us out onto the serene Margaret River, which is framed by giant eucalyptus trees. We enjoy a gentle canoe paddle as Sean points out Baudins Cockatoos and a musk duck performing a tuneful mating call. “That’s a rare sight…we got lucky today,” he tells us.
Back in the vehicle and further into the forest, Sean takes us to a spot sacred to the area’s Indigenous Noongar Aboriginals, where we gaze into the clear water looking for residents like marron (a freshwater crayfish) and mussels, whose presence is an indicator of the water’s health and cleanliness.
From his knapsack he pulls out some bread – “baked this morning” – and three types of honey. “Honey is big business in Margaret River and comes in many different flavours and prices; I call it ‘honey bees’ vomit,” says Sean.
At Fraser Gallop Estate – “the new superstar of Margaret River wine,” he says – we have VIP access at the winery and, in the estate’s barrel room, enjoy a lunch of charcuterie, cheeses, chutneys, slaws and preserves.
We end the day with a stroll along a section of the 135-kilometre Cape to Cape Track, a well-maintained twisting trail which starts and ends at two lighthouses and runs high above the ocean, wending through bush, coastal heathland and sections of karri forest, taking in limestone caves and offering stupendous views.
Far below, surfers are bobbing on their boards, waiting for the next wave set.
Back at our accommodation, Smiths Beach Resort in Yallingup, a coastal hamlet, I take a short walk to the edge of the Indian Ocean, which is accessed by a wooden walkway. At the entrance to the beach a sign warns: “Caution, Shark Activity. Large schools of fish may attract sharks close to shore. Water users should exercise caution.”
Enchanting world
I abandon my plan for an evening swim and instead linger on the expansive white sands and watch a lone fisherman cast his line. A small pod of dolphins, splashing a few hundred yards out, provide a clue as to what he hopes to hook. “We are both after the same thing – it is the Australian salmon run. They taste great in green curries,” he tells me.
On the way back to my room I pause as an adult kangaroo and its joey look out from the hotel’s car park. Momentarily they appear frozen, before bounding off into the cover of the bush.
An hour or so later, as we tuck into a fish and chips supper provided by Lamont’s Smoths Beach, which provides gourmet food and deli items for guests, to enjoy, the sky turns a palette of deep reds, oranges and pinks, as if there has been a volcanic eruption. “Have you ever seen a sunset like that?” asks Cory. I reply that I don’t think I have.
The next day, I am signed up to another day of exploration with Pemberton Discovery Tours. We jump into a 4X4 and head to Pemberton, a timber town that until 1989 made sleepers for Western Australia’s railway network. A 90-minute drive from Margaret River, it is located in the heart of a region known for its rich agricultural lands and dense forests.
We venture into Warren National Park, where sunlight on a perfect autumn day struggles to slip though the canopy of towering karri trees – some are 200 years old and climb as high as 90 metres.
The park is an enchanting world, with jarrah trees – a type of eucalyptus – lush undergrowth, wildflowers, colourful fungi and ‘snottygobble’ shrubs, with their weeping foliage providing a clue as as how they got their unusual name.
Back in the vehicle, we drive on into D’Entrecasteaux National Park, where the old-growth forest quickly disappears, and arrive at Yeagarup Dunes.
This 13-kilometre-wide, three-kilometre long stretch of ever-shifting sands, interspersed with occasional clumps of wispy grassland, is the largest land-locked mobile dune system in the Southern Hemisphere. Swept inland by the strong Southerly winds, the dunes are advancing by four metres a year, swallowing the wetlands and forests in its path.
Aaron, our driver, lets air out of the tyres of our vehicle and we set off over the soft sands, following a designated route to the ocean. We reach Yeagarup Beach, a vast stretch of compacted white sand, and stop close to the turbulent and pounding Southern Ocean.
There’s not a soul around, with all other sounds drowned out by the deafening crashing of the waves.
I stare out to the roller-coaster swells, trying to imagine all those hardy sailors that have negotiated waves up to 50 feet high and winds that can change rapidly.
Safe on the beach, where the blown sand particles sting my cheeks, it’s a moment for fleeting contemplation and an appreciation of this timeless and powerful landscape.
The Southern Ocean at Yeagarup Beach, D’Entrecasteaux National Park
