By Kelly Warren
I was halfway across the world in Japan, hosting a party and feeling very well traveled when one of my guests brought around a photo album of their travels to my home country. Pawing over magnificent landscapes of Western Australia I exclaimed “Australia rocks! I wanna go there!” I realised, that I had seen more of other countries than I had the great down under and vowed to head west as soon as I set foot on Terra Australis. After a little research with the aid of my trusty ‘lonely planet’, I decided the south west corner would be a great place for me to start.
That is how I found myself on a plane to Perth within weeks of arriving back in Oz. Ah, Perth, a breath of fresh air in the city genre. One thing that really stuck me about Perth, was the lack of litter on the streets. It seemed more like a tidy town than a city, with its spacious streets, historic buildings, friendly locals and luscious parks. The ‘easyrider’ bus tours conveniently went to all of the really cool places I had plotted to visit and made me feel safe as a solo woman traveler, so I happily jumped on the bus heading south, and learnt a bit of local history along the way.
The first stop was the sleepy town of Margaret River, three hours south of Perth. One main drag, no traffic lights and an abundance of wineries and eateries at which to treat myself. By a fortuitous stroke of luck, there happened to be a free bus out to the ‘vintage stomp’, a local festival at Voyager winery. The entire community had come out to drink, dance, cook and squish grapes beneath their feet. It felt like a cross between an traditional Italian festival and a kitsch school fete. I, of course, spent a great deal of time in the food tasting tent. There was a magnificent array of modern Australian fusion cuisine ranging from Egyptian Dukkah to Sheep’s cheese feta. The best part of all, was that it was free to taste. I eventually rolled out of the tent half an hour later with a full belly and an collection of new recipes that I could experiment with.
Naturally it wouldn’t be a visit to a winery without sampling the fermented wares, so I paid $3 and swished, sniffed and swallowed (quite possibly the most important part of the process) various varieties of wine and I was even given a wine glass to take home. Not a particularly practical package for a backpacker to lug around, but who am I to pass up free stuff.
Being a budget conscious backpacker I had one of two choices; take a bus around to a selection of the local wineries for $50 or partake in a bit of hard yakka and kayak up the Margaret River on a Bushtucker Tour. Never having eaten a witchetty grub, the Bushtucker Tour seemed the logical choice.
I cannot sing the praises of the Bushtucker Tour highly enough. We were met by an akubra wearing, sincerely friendly guide, who was a fountain of information when it came to local history flora and fauna. He kept us entertained the entire time with anecdotes about the original white settlers after whom half of the south west corner is named. We then set off, at 10am, for a leisurely paddle down the gorgeous unspoilt mouth of the Margaret River. We the stopped at a Paperbark grove to learn a little about bush medicine and hunt around for native herbs and medicinal plants that we had just moments before been introduced to. After meandering further down the river and spotting some black swans in flight, we moored just near a field of kangaroos.
Then came time for our Bushtucker feast. In the past when I had thought of eating native Aussie food, I imagined forcing myself to swallow a witchetty grub. I couldn’t have been further from the truth. There was an incredible array of gourmet native cuisine including; bush tomato pesto, bunya nut damper, witchetty grub pate (delicious), corned kangaroo and emu meats and wattle seed, celery and macadamia pesto. What a culinary delight! I never imagined that bush food could be so delectable. I have since been inspired to create all manner of bush fusion recipes. Kangaroo meat is packed with iron, light on fat and makes a wonderful base for curry.
After paying a visit to the bush latrine, that’s fancy speak for ducking behind a tree, we were off up the river again to explore some unmarked caves that were hidden in the cliff faces. Armed only with small torches we crawled, slithered and contorted our way through a waterslide sized cave tucked away in the side of the cliff face.
Tired and satisfied I waddled back to the hostel and made plans to hire a bicycle for $10 and do a self guided winery tour. The wineries are quite spread out and Margaret River is reasonably hilly, so when using peddle power you are only able to take in 4 or so wineries. That helps you to avoid the problem of drink-riding too. In a moment of unplanned serendipity, a kind hearted wine monger took pity on the tired cyclists and awarded us a free bottle of wine for our troubles.
I left ‘Margs’ boldly claiming that I would one day come back to live, with a newly acquired penchant for native cuisine and a green bag filled to the brim with gourmet delights that earned me the nickname among my fellow travelers as the gourmet backpacker.
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