Sally Macmillan finds an off-beat opal mining moonscape that’s made livable by good old Aussie ‘can do’ spirit and ingenuity.

QUIRKY, eclectic, eccentric…
Lightning Ridge, iconic outback NSW mining town set in a moonscape of desolate semi-desert, is all that.

You can drive down Bankrupt Miners Avenue; out to the opal fields past car door signs reading “Danger, Mad dogs, Stay in car” and “Lunatic Lookout”; drop into Wombat Hut and Amigo’s Castle; and explore a carved Last Supper chamber 15m underground.

Wacky creativity rules here in The Ridge. This is can-do country where “Ridgerdising.”—the recycling of any old thing from Leyland buses, rusty car doors, cement mixers, barbed wire and fence posts, to booze, soft drink and milk bottles—has become a local art form.

There’s no such think as junk here, just as there’s no such thing as letting down the community.

Folks here just go it. Take the five-star Olympic Pool, its companion Water Theme Park, next door’s Sport Centre and the nearby completed Dive Centre and short-course pool. The pools and sports centre are of Australian Institute of Sport Olympic standard. But every skerrick of work involved in all these facilities has come from Ridge volunteer labour, machinery and money.

Every tile in the $1 million Olympic pool (the AIS equivalent cost $25 million) has an owner who forked over money for it.

The Theme Park is a children’s paradise that has six pools (including a wave pool) with water slides, lilypad trails, giant fixed creatures with swings and free-floating critters.

It’s been a 20-year enterprise that began with five local girls aged between nine and 12, who had to travel to Walgett, 75km south, for swim training.

They asked if the town could do something—and it did, raising an initial $650,000 in 18 months to kick off the Olympic pool, opened by Dawn Fraser in 1990.

Next is a $20 million, Glen Murcott-designed Australian Opal Centre, to be built underground—a national treasure trove of opal and opalised animal fossils donated by miners from local areas, and others in NSW and Queensland.

“Not bad for a little mining village,” grins our Black Opal Tour guide, Chuck Peters.

The little mining village began life in 1905 as Wallangulla—meaning “fire stick”—with a sly grog shop, a corner store, a school and corrugated iron huts.

Since then people from around the world—more than 30 nationalities—have lobbed here to seek their fortune. Many succeed; some say the cashflow at the local bank is one of the largest in Australia, but you’ll also find more than a few just scraping by on the claim site maximum of 50m square.

No matter. In The Ridge you look after your own. There may be about only 2800 people here (it can jump to 5000 in winter when people from the coast come each year to try their luck at the opal claim game) but as a community the Ridge is plenty big.

And it has plenty for visitors—about 80,000 of them a year—to see, do and explore. We make a base at a sprawling water hole, the Lightning Ridge Hotel Motel—bars, outdoor entertainment area, bistro, bottle shop, log cabin-style motel suites, self-contained cabins, caravan park, camping grounds and saltwater pool—to do just that.

It takes only minutes to hit the Three Mile field.

Fields here are set out in quadrants. No street addresses—just red, blue, yellow and green car-door markers. (Seeking a house/place, you’ll be told, “go to yellow car door 7 and it’s the second house on the right’) No wonder more than 2000 people have private postboxes in town.

It’s rough and tumble living, with cobbled-together houses, huts and hovels (even trams and railway carriages) part or fully “Ridgerdised”, some with wind generators supplementing solar panels.

It’s a landscape of shafts. Cement mixers churning over opal dirt mixed with artesian bore water, scrubby prickly pear, wild orange trees (an old indicator of opal lode) and Chinese jade, planted at front and back doors for luck.

Chuck honks the horn before we take a corner. “That’s just a courtesy to let Ernie know folk are coming by,” he explains. “He’s got an outdoor dunny—with no door. Gives him time to get decent.”

We sight the convenience but no Ernie. Reckon he’s down under digging for treasure. Right here, the darkest and most valuable form of opal was found.

Black opal has a dark underlying body colour giving greater intensity to the gem colour. The name doesn’t refer to the face of the opal, because that comes in every colour of the rainbow.

Chuck sets us down on a huge tailing ground. Every man and his dog has gone through it but you never know when you might strike it lucky. A nine-year-old on a recent rugby tour fossicked up a stone worth more than $2000 around here.

All our spit and rub, however, fetches up nada. Obviously, we belong to what Chuck dubs the “earth mover” crew, not the “opal miner” mob.

Onwards to a hut built in 1911 by two German miners—a breezeway with a kitchen on one side and bedroom on the other—bought in 1930 for two shillings and sixpence (say $7.50 at today’s values) and today under heritage order.

Then Amigo’s Castle, an ongoing masterpiece begun in 1980 by a chap who’s single-handedly building it from ironstone, timber and metal; and the Astronomer’s Monument, a wacky compilation created by a late Polish amateur astronomer.

Equally strange is Chambers of the Black Hand, 15m down an old opal mine. Owner Ron Canlin has hacked out chambers full of carved stone figures and murals and he’s created with jackhammers, picks and rasp files since 1997.

There’s the Last Supper, Australiana, Egypt, meerkats, Superman, Spiderman, terracotta warrior, Ned Kelly, Gollum, the Simpsons a collection of amazing and fascinating stuff. Returning, we see The Black Queen—three sandstone cottages with bottle walls, filled with antiques and retro furniture—which acts as an outback theatre. The polo grounds host rodeos and an Easter Carnival with horse and goat races.

In town is noted artist John Murray’s art gallery, the Bottle House, built of 5800 bottles 47 years ago, today a mining museum; a score of opal shops and The Flying Postman where we steep ourselves in opal—honey , white, grey, milk, black, red on black, the common potch and doublets and triplets.

We finish our stay with a soak in the 41.5C waters of the artesian bore baths. Entry is free and it’s open all day, 365 days a year. Now we understand why folk come for a visit and never leave The Ridge, chilling out in a gritty but relaxing lifestyle far from the madding crowd.

LIGHTNING RIDGE

MORE:
www.lightningridgeinfo.com.au
www.visitoutbacknsw.com.au
www.visitnsw.com

Golf may not be fun for all but this resort suits to a tee, writes Jen Kelly

GOLF is a good walk spoiled, Mark Twain declared, and I reckon he was spot-on. But as I pull back the curtains to a balcony overlooking Sebel Heritage Yarra Valley’s magnificent golf course, it’s view of the game I can appreciate.

Picture it this way, fellow non-golfers; we’re gazing out over luscious green, gently rolling lawns, dotted with attractive lakes and sandy min-beaches that are home to ducks and other waterbirds. A few kangaroos graze on the fairway.

The backdrop is hilly farmland. Near the balcony, sparrows dive-bomb one another and magpies warble their sweet song.

A few minutes’ walk away, just out of view, the Yarra River meanders by the golf course.

For relaxation and a base to explore the surrounding Yarra Valley, the five-star Sebel Heritage resort is a delight; for golfers, it’s the next best thing to paradise. It’s about 50 minutes’ drive east of the Melbourne city centre.

Any entrance driveway with offshoots such as Carnoustie Crescent and St. Andrews Court is serious golf territory. They feed into an estate where houses are for sale around the championship courses.

Those not zipping from front door to first tee in a golf buggy soak up the charm of the Sebel Heritage in the heart of the Heritage Golf Country Club, its two courses, driving range, chipping and putting greens and majestic clubhouse.

If I was interested in the action, I could sit on my room’s balcony, pour a glass of Yarra Valley red and enjoy an unrivalled view of play on the 18th hole of the Jack Nicklaus- designed St John course.

The newer, the links-style Henley course is across the Yarra.

My partner’s plan to challenge himself to a round were dashed when he put out his back, so it turned into a weekend of relaxation instead.

It’s a lovely amble down to the Yarra for a bush stroll on a dirt path under a shady canopy passing through wetlands and past a bird hide. From there, we joined a concrete path and soon found ourselves pushing our four-month-old in his pram up and down the hills of the postcard-perfect course.

We emerged later at the clubhouse to admire the view, only to see a sign forbidding non-golfers from the path. Oops.

Later, a customised massage at Mii Spa, only a short walk from the accommodation, had me rejuvenated, blissfully ache-free and ready for a dip in the indoor pool.

There is also a great gym and a steam room in the spa complex and floodlit tennis courts outside. Mountain biking is also offered.

The drive from Melbourne to Sebel Heritage Yarra Valley is deceptive. It’s only a short trip from the shopping megastores and suburbia of Chirnside Park but in the last minutes of the drive, tight-knit housing vanishes, replaced by picturesque cow paddocks; easy to forget how close we are to the city.

It’s only a few minutes further to vineyard country, so Sebel Heritage is a nice location if you fancy a weekend touring the many nearby cellar doors.

Our room at the Sebel was roomy and stylish, with a couch and coffee table, a king-sized bed, bulky drapes and a big bathroom with a deep bath, separate shower and two basins.

But whether you’re a golf tragic or view the game as Mark Twain did, this is the kind of place you’ll want to be outside to enjoy the country air and the beauty of nature at its best—even if you make it only as far as your balcony.

DETAILS: To book a stay, go to  www.mirvachotels.com or call 1800 002 105 or (03) 9760 3333

A luxury coastal retreat finds Phillip Heads kindly disposed towards the friendly in-house wildlife.

ERIC the eastern water dragoon likes our private pool villa at the super luxurious Pretty Beach House almost as much as we do.

Eric is almost a metre long and, while his claws look a little scary, they don’t work all that well on the timber decking around our pool.

He slips and slides but eventually they’re good enough for him to make his way right up to the gauze that encloses our villa, where he butts his head gently, trying to get inside with us in pursuit of more food.

Eric was living at Pretty Beach House before its reincarnation as perhaps the most luxurious and exclusive getaway within a comfortable drive of Sydney.

The thing is, you are fed so well it’s hard not to pass on a little extra to Eric or his mate Karl the kookaburra who is bold enough to land on our breakfast table to try to pinch some of our local eggs and bacon.

Pretty Beach House mirrors the kind of luxury that has earned rave reviews for its nearby sister property, Bells at Killcare, albeit on a more intimate scale.

Cue: Stefano Manfredi’s menu, the kind of wine you normally reserve for very special occasions, and just about any other trimming you can think of.

And it delivers in a setting that is about as uniquely coastal Australian as you can get.

After weaving your way through the back of Killcare and Hardys Bay, you arrive at Pretty Beach, a sleepy coastal pocket with an inlet on one side and the Bouddi National Park on the other three.

There are just three private guest pavilions set apart from the main lodge in grounds that your part manicured lawn, part as they have been for thousands of years.

Pretty Beach House sits at the top of an almost impossibly steep driveway, peering back down through Sydney red gums to Brisbane Water.

The main house is wood, glass and sandstone, nodding to the landscape in which it sits. The dining room looks out on a giant red gum that rises through the timber decking, a wood-fired pizza oven and an infinity pool.

Upstairs is a bar and the kitchen, from where the chef gets as good a view as any guest. Downstairs is a cellar full of interesting wines.

We head off to our villa. The Hideaway, which is farthest from the main house and set into the side of a hill.

The living room has a slow combustion fire, fully stocked bar and, thankfully, no television.

As the sun sets and the mozzies arrive, we retreat indoors and Eric moves to his nest under the villa. He’s had his dinner but our thoughts turn to what’s in store for us.

Manfredi’s menu in chef Tiff’s hand is full of honest flavour. From the crostini with our aperitifs to gnocchi with sage burnt butter, beautifully rested T-bone or stuffed rabbit loin there isn’t a course we don’t want to share.

Breakfast is perhaps more impressive, starting with a handmade organic granola so amazing we can’t leave without the recipe.

For lunch, the staff have lit the poolside wood-fired oven, spoiling us with pizza straight off the stone.

One thing you must take—and then work up again once you’re there—is an appetite. A stroll into the national park is ideal. You can walk down to deserted Tallow Beach or up to the very point of Box Head, and among the 360 degrees of views you’ll see Umina Ettalong and Pearl beaches.

A little farther to the left is Palm Beach, the northern-most tip of Sydney and, beyond it, where we must return all too soon.

WHERE:

Pretty Beach is a 90-minute drive, or about 100km, north of Sydney on the Bouddi Peninsula, Take Woy Woy exit.

STAY:

Pretty Beach House, 83 Highway Rd. Ph. (02) 4360 1933. Rooms start at $2500 a night, all meals and drinks included. www.prettybeachhouse.com

Backed by bushland, this sleepy hideaway near Coffs Harbour is the home of a stunning dinning experience, as Paul Maughan discovers.

IF IT is grand but relaxed beachside dining that you are after, then it doesn’t come much better than at Saltwater Café and Restaurant, superbly position only a few lazy metres from the rolling surf at Emerald Beach, 15km north of Coffs Harbour on New South Wales’ mid-north coast.

Tucked in beside the extensive nature reserve, and enjoying uninterrupted view of the inviting beach, the setting is as much a drawcard as the restaurant’s noted cuisine.

Saltwater’s chic beachscape presentation if further enhanced by the nearby Greenstone Gallery, a contemporary studio of stunning artworks set in a peaceful garden.

Featuring great food and a quality wine selection, the award-winning restaurant offers modern Australian cuisine heightened by subtle flavours from Asia and the Middle East.

The seafood my wife and I tucked into was sensational, and the desserts were divine.

Above the restaurant is Saltwater on the Beach, a luxurious three-bedroom/two-bathroom open-plan apartment with even more extensive views than those from the dining terrace below.

Architect-designed for relaxed beachside living, and equipped with all the latest appliances—including a giant plasma TV and wireless internet—holidaying here is all about decadent self-indulgence. The stressed and sleep-deprived should love the place.

Soothed by the lullaby of rolling surf, and content of tummy (courtesy of the chefs below), it’s the perfect spot for idle R & R.

Despite Saltwater’s stylish influence, Emerald Beach is one of those sleepy spots reminiscent of Queensland’s famed surfing playgrounds of yesteryear. Backed by bushland, the long, shady beach forms a cove between two prominent headlands, excellent for swimming and surfing.

Only a kilometre from the Pacific Highway, fewer than 2000 residents live here in unpretentious suburban-style homes, serviced by a small general store, bottle shop and little else.

With the safe beach, stunning headland walkways that provide views to die for, minimal traffic, and nonchalant kangaroos as neighbours, the locals reckon they live in paradise.

Thankfully, they are quite happy to share their hideaway with visitors. The place is still a bit of a secret but, as a casual, relaxed holiday retreat, Emerald Beach would have few peers anywhere along the Australian coast.

Aside from the prestigious Saltwater, there is a small supply of tidy holiday homes for rent. Additionally, an award-winning caravan park, hidden away along the beachfront among the trees, features several accommodation choices, including smart two-bedroom/two-bathroom cottages.

A heated pool, giant jumping pillow (awesome), tennis court, go-karts, as well as free cable TV and wireless internet should ensure families survive intact if they choose to holiday here.

In fact, the general ambience at Emerald Beach, is so serene that even grumps smile. It’s contagiously friendly.

Walking along the beach early one morning, I met George and Gladys, an English couple, who came here on holidays 25 years ago and haven’t got around to going home yet. They love the place—and I sure can see why.

WHERE  Saltwater on the Beach is at 104 Fiddaman Rd. Emerald Beach. Phone 0401 681 170 or www.saltwateronthebeach.com

DETAILS Coffs Coast Visitor information Centre, 1300 369 070. www.coffscoast.com.au

Sailing around Sydney Harbour in a racing yacht at twilight is exhilarating stuff. Julie Ihle tells us how to get hooked.

ALTHOUGH I’ve lived in Sydney all my life, I’m a sailing virgin. So when the opportunity comes to take a hands-on sailing lesson aboard Pla Loma, veteran of the Sydney-to-Hobart, in a Sydney Harbour twilight race, I leap at the chance.

My fellow sailing newbie, Milk, and I are met by our minder, Julie, the yacht’s navigator with a soft spot for sailing virgins.

Julie issues us with sailing jackets and warns we will be wet. He other warnings are more ominous—don’t touch this rigging as the last person who did lost three fingers, and don’t step on the rope as you could lose a foot. Whew. Suddenly, it’s feeling less like a rollicking high seas adventure and more like boot camp with consequences.

We watch as the crew works furiously checking rigs, pulling ropes and getting mysterious gadgets out of sailing bags. I can sense the excitement mixed with what feels like pre-exam nerves.

Julie explains that as Pla Loma won the previous week’s race it is handicapped tonight and will start the race last. She adds that twilight racing is more about friendship camaraderie than winning, and I notice a keg of beer on the deck.

After a final tug at the ropes and a quick unscrambling of the sail, we set off. The crew launches the billowing sail and the boat immediately lurches to one side. Mike and I grab on to the railing as though our lives depend on it. “Mind your head in case we jibe,” yells Julie.

“Tack,” bellows the skipper and we clamber to the other side. “Tack, jibe… we are learning new words.

Julie and I dangle our legs over the side of the boat. I’m just getting comfy when the skipper yells, “Tack”, and we hotfoot it to the other side, taking care not to grab the rigging that might slice off our fingers.

We tack a few more times but I’m getting the hang of it now and have time to drink in views of harbour mansions and secluded bays, as well as Sydney icons such as the beaches at Balmoral and Lady Jane, which is Sydney’s most famous nudist beach.

The weekly twilight race follows a different course depending on the wind and sea conditions, and tonight we are following an especially scenic course up Middle Harbour to Rose Bay and circling Shark Island.

This hands-on sailing experience is designed to give newcomers a taste of what sailing is all about and, if you like it, the club recommends you do a course at its Flying Fish Sailing School.

As we circle Shark Island, we tack a few more times and then jube.

The hard yards have been done so the crew breaks open the beer. We drink in the scenery: the sun a molten orange disc above the Harbour Bridge, flanked by the Opera House.

The skipper kicks back and shows us what he does at the helm, before he relinquishes it to someone else. I get a sense of camaraderie on board. Crew members are a range of ages and an even male/female ratio; not the blokey atmosphere I expected.

There’s a seafaring solidarity, evident as the crew waves to a tourist boat while Julie has an especially keen eye for rowers. “More talent starboard,” she whoops when we spy a group of toned paddlers.

As the sun slinks out of view and lights twinkle on the harbour, we retrace our route to the start. We glide down Middle Harbour, waving at navy divers practising drills.

We hop ashore at the clubhouse which is swarming with crews from returning yachts. A band is playing and the beer is flowing.

We take a seat in the clubhouse’s marvellous bistro and chow down on beer-battered orange roughy.

“How did you enjoy sailing?” asks the skipper. I tell him I am hooked.

I have learned new words, experienced the thrill of being on board a racing yacht, felt the wind in my hair and forgotten all the worries of the working week. I’m coated with salt spray, my jeans are soaked, but Sydney Harbour has never been this much fun, and I know I’ll be back to learn the ropes properly.

Flying Fish Sailing School runs sailing courses from $95 at Middle Harbour Yacht Club. Details: (02) 9976 6714 or visit www.flyingfishonline.com

A visit to the former home of author Monica McInerney reveals a reincarnation of history, writes Elissa Doherty.

IT IS not difficult to see why a girl growing up in this charming Clare Valley residence was inspired to become an author.

Forget for a moment that the historic, picturesque home sits proudly in one of the prettiest regions in South Australia.  Perfect fodder for a writer’s ink.

The award-winning Station-master’s Residence, the former home of international best-selling author Monica McInerney, is an experience in itself.

If the walls could talk, they would no doubt regale visitors with tales of the golden era of rail, and the antics of seven railway children whom Father Christmas would visit by train.

McInerney’s father Steve was the stationmaster for 35 years, and the property was home to the family from 1959 to 2003.

Grand yet quaint, it has in recent years been reincarnated by couple Chris and Christine Jones into a decadent bed and breakfast, with throwbacks to its rail-time past. The term B&B, however, does not do justice to this gracious, 1913 stone home.

Strolling past the ivy-covered façade and sprawling garden into the elegant hallway is like stepping back in time, with the original pressed-tin ceilings dripping with chandeliers, the stained glass and the tasteful furniture.

It’s easy to imagine a time when the stationmaster would entertain while the children would play hide and seek in the sprawling garden, and tea would be taken on the veranda.

But if this sounds like a weekend at grandma’s, think again. Country charm is mixed with mod-cons, including a spa and a barbecue. And the real surprise is out the back.

Inside a corrugated iron shed is the “Country Club”—a modern games room with jukebox, pool table plasma TV, comfy sofa beds, locally commissioned art works, a second bathroom and a bar fridge.

Every whim has been catered for from quality chocolates, a full wine rack, supply of port and scotch to magazines and novels, including McInerney’s Those Faraday Girls and The Alphabet Sisters.

Links to the golden age of rail can be found throughout. The last train pulled out of Clare in 1983 after Ash Wednesday bushfires ripped along the track.

In a recent article about her old home, McInerney describes the happy memories she and her siblings shared. “Between the ages of five and 12, the seven of us used the tracks to commit hundreds of crimes against the Australian Government, deliberately mutilating as many 2c, 5c and 10c coins as we could get our hands on,” she writes

“We would check the timetable, line the coins up on the railway line and wait for the trains to pass, their heavy metal wheels squashing them into flat metal shapes.

“The excitement was in never knowing what the effect would be. Sometimes the pattern on the face of the coin would disappear completely. Other times it would be stretched, so the echidna on the 5c piece looked like it had a really long nose or the frill neck lizard on the 2c was very plump”

The B&B won the 2008 SA Tourism Awards Deluxe Accommodation category.

My friends and I managed to tear ourselves away to explore the surrounding area for a few hours, lingering over a delicious lunch at the rustic and renowned Skilogalee winery restaurant.

But then it was back to the residence, cooking up a barbecue and chatting and laughing into the wee hours. This was one station we hope to pull into again.

WHERE: Clare is an easy 90-minute drive north of Adelaide. The B&B is at 4 New Rd, Clare

STAY: Rates start at $275 for a couple, or “pay two nights and stay three” for $460

DETAILS: ph (08) 8261 6270, www.thestationmastersresidence.com.au

It’s a holiday package unlike any other, writes Mike Bingham, about a dream trip during which the travellers are a curiosity for the local inhabitants.

Antarctica is every traveller’s dream, and realising that dream exceeds all expectations.

Even a David Attenborough TV series is an understated preparation, for the first sight of an iceberg, the wildlife, and mankind’s token imprints on the continent.

From the moment the Aurora Expeditions ship Marina Svetaeva heads out from the mouth of the Derwent in Tasmania, the realisation hits that this is a holiday package unlike any other.

The passengers have been told the itinerary is dependent on the weather, be it Force 9 gales and 10m seas, or pack ice blocking the approach to the frozen continent.

The ship, built for the Russian Arctic, can carry up to 100 passengers; many are four to a cabin but still happy to pay $A20,5000 for the 27-day expedition. Some I met on board had done three or four voyages with the company, so the magic never fades.

Conditions on board are comfortable and the Russian crew are efficient and friendly. There’s a library and 24-hour access to the bridge, but the ship is not for soft-expectation cruise passengers. We are heading for the last frontier on Earth—one reached after several days slugging it out with the Southern Ocean.

There are days when it is only the endless serene gliding of the albatross that provides a distraction from the heavy swell.

Macquarie Island, Australia’s sub-Antarctic island four days south of Hobart, provides the first reward with the opportunity to shuttle ashore via Zodiacs and come face to face with elephant seals and more penguins that you could ever imagine.

Who will ever forget drifting to the edge of the beach at Lusitania Bay on the island’s southern tip and gazing at 250,000 penguins, while hundreds of others “porpoised” around our Zodiacs?

It was our introduction to a world where humans are a curiosity. A world where, in the midst of 250,000 chattering royal and king penguins, a single chick can recognise its mother’s call as it returns from a fishing trip. Our ship weighs anchor and heads for the Mawson’s Huts at Commonwealth Bay.

There’s a sweep running on the sighting of the first iceberg, and it is no disappointment. It’s small by berg standards, but magical with its caves and diverse colours ranging from ice-white to aquamarine.

In the days to come the big ones appear. Huge tabular icebergs imperiously bobbing along like a fleet review of giant aircraft carriers. Other icebergs are shaped like chunks torn from the Swiss Alps.

On one morning I count 25 in easy view.

That’s not to mention countless icefloes, some populated by small occupation forces of penguins totally underwhelmed by the ship and its camera-wielders.

All this is superseded, though by the moment we board the Zodiacs at 8 o’clock one night and land at Mawson’s 1911 Boat Harbour and begin the short ice walk to the hut—that great icon to Australian science and exploration.

The sun is overhead in this summer of endless light, and earlier katabatic winds have howled down from the polar plateau and swept the snow away.

Our admiration for Sir Douglas Mawson and the men with him on that voyage south from Hobart in 1911 increases by the minute.

The scene inside the ice-bound hut is like a memory of the movie Dr Zhivago, where the frozen dacha is strung with icicles and ice crystals. Only in this case, frozen for close to a century.

There is a great sense of privilege because this is Australian Antarctica, far to the west of the major tourism venues on the Antarctic Peninsula.

In the next few days, the two onboard helicopters work overtime ferrying us ashore.

A memory which will never fade is being set down on top of the Mertz glacier on a windless, cloudless Antarctic day. The snow beneath my feet was like talcum powder, the silence once the chopper departed was absolute.

The glacier spills 100km out to sea and splits into five “tongues” covering 50km spread. Vast, but only a fraction of this ice world.

In places on this continent the ice is 7km thick and along its shores are the seals and penguins, whales and seabirds, and the krill that underpin the entire food chain.

The ship, guided by it is Russian captain, anchors against a vast sheet of ice and we step “ashore”. One comic rides a bicycle; the more adventurous hike a kilometre or two across the ice and are picked up by a helicopter when an ice channel opens up between them and the ship.

Basking seals stare lazily at us, then get back to their sunbaking. Squads of Adelie penguins waddle closer for a look and appear fascinated by camera lenses. We are curiosities, not threats, unlike the cruising orcas skirting the floes in search of a penguin or two.

The occasional leopard seal, a fearsome hunter, is also spotted.

Leaving Antarctica is hard. No-body wants to go, but on the way back to Hobart the Southern Ocean whips up 10m waves lashed by 60 knots of wind on the nose, and we count that a real farewell.

There’s time on the way back to call into the New Zealand sub-Antarctic Auckland Islands, where we see our first flowers and vegetation in close to three weeks.

These islands are protected from development and that’s good news for the millions of seabirds, particularly the ever-present albatross.

The New Zealand sea lions and penguins—some of which roost on the branches of trees—are also beneficiaries.

Marina Svetaeva
ITINERARY: The weather calls the shots in Antarctica.
ESSENTIALS: Gumboots, polar fleece, sunglasses, sunblock, gloves, waterproof trousers and sea-sickness medication. (A parka is provided.) Take two cameras. Insurance is essential.
DETAILS: The Marina Svetaeva will make two Antarctic voyages from Hobart next summer. Fares from $A20,5000, quad share. www.auroraexpeditions.com.au or 1800 637 688.

Don’t wait for Valentine’s Day to take your special someone to this heavenly retreat by the beach, writes Sandra Lee.

Kims Beach Hideaway at Toowoon Bay, an hour’s drive north of Sydney, is a Romance Central, which solves a lot of problems for someone who is pathologically averse to walking hand in hand on a beach at sunset, especially at this time of year.

Consisting of 13 types of private bungalows, it has been privately owned since 1957, by three generations of the Strachan family, and is currently headed by the urbane Andrew Strachan and his wife, Maryjane, Andrews niece, Diana, and her husband Peter Kershaw, are the managers.

We arrived on a Saturday afternoon and were escorted to the South Beach bungalow, an elegant and spacious 366sq m retreat with a massive bedroom, separate lounge with kitchen and glorious tropical garden and outdoor area.

It also come with a sauna, outdoor Jacuzzi, garden shower, indoor spa big enough for two, bidet and a heated, saltwater swimming pool.

Nestled only metres from the beach, it has a spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean.

Kims is built on traditions, most of which are glamorously old- fashioned and very personal, reflecting the long history of both the resort and the Strachan family.

A yacht mast between the restaurant and the sea flies the Australian flag and the national flags of international visitors when they are in residence.

Photographs charting the retreat’s early days line the dining room walls. They show that in 1886 the resort was little more than a rustic beach-side shack known as The Camp.

There are many things that elevate Kims into a truly grand experience but for me, the piece de- resistance is the renowned vast buffet-style banquet for lunch and dinner.

I loved this helpful hint printed on the menu “You may have as little or as much as you desire,” Bliss.

While the menu changes daily in line with available produce and seasons, the first-class quality does not. Seafood such as blue swimmer crabs and whole bream from Tuggerah Lakes are the stars of the show.

Foodies will love that the staples of life such as bread, butter (from Hunter Valley cream), preserves and jams are made in-house.

One warning though—there is no a la carte, and anyone seeking nouvelle cuisine and current kitchen trends will, thankfully, be disappointed. Kims is for lovers of real food.

We could have taken mini-trips to check out the sights, but could see no point in interrupting our short stay in paradise, not even for a massage in Pamper Place.

Between breakfast and lunch, we luxuriated by our pool in our yukatas (traditional Japanese robe) and after lunch too a stroll—yes hand in hand—along the beach.

Sunset tempted my new inner romantic, but come 6pm we wound our way back to the cocktail bar and enjoyed a dry martini as we listened to jazz musicians before dinner. Perfect.

Head north from Sydney on the F3, taking the Wyong/ Entrance exit.
Stay at Kims Beach Hideaway, 16 Charlton St. Toowoon Bay. Phone 02 4332 1566 www.kims.com.au or for other information, have a look at: www.visitnsw.com

A right regal experience can be had at the historical Hotel Windsor—in the heart of Melbourne, writes Chris Pritchard

“There’ll be tiers before bedtime”, a friend whispers mysteriously after inviting me to afternoon tea. She promises cucumber sandwiches minus crusts.

Now I understand what she means, Fans whirr overhead, Chandeliers are switched on despite the room’s cheery brightness.

And immediately in front of me are the tiers of which she spoke.

A solid-silver centrepiece on our table is a three-tiered serving stand.

Elegant finger sandwiches are stacked closest to the gleaming white tablecloth (including cucumber with sour cream, ham with mango pickle and smoked salmon).

Deliciously gooey cakes are piled on the middle teir and freshly-baked scones (with clotted cream and strawberry preserve on the side) sit on top, just beneath the Hotel Windsor’s crest.

“No, the stands don’t get souvenired”, the chief executive David Perry tells me. “We don’t get the sort of people who’d steal the family silver,”

Traditional afternoon tea at the Hotel Windsor is a popular component of Melbourne breakaways.

This teatime ritual has been a feature of the Windsor since it opened in 1883. Unhurried, it’s a far more memorable break than nipping into a coffee shop for a fast hit of caffeine. Mind you, coffee is available for those who prefer it.

There’s another difference. Reservations are recommended—even for tea. But despite a sedate and historic setting, afternoon tea at the Hotel Windsor isn’t at all stuffy. It’s pleasantly informal.

I drop in on a Tuesday afternoon and am surprised to find the off-the-lobby 111 Spring Restaurant where afternoon tea is served—three -quarters full. A few tables have lone occupants, with habitués enjoying tea while reading books or newspapers. Several are filled with gossiping family groups. Couples form a large majority.

“We average over 100 people a day”, a hotel executive says. “On busy days we’re full, and for weekends we recommend making reservations more than a month ahead.

“It’s a mix of Melbourne residents who’re often celebrating special occasions, along with country Victorians and visitors from interstate or overseas.” Afternoon tea costs more on Saturdays and Sundays because a dessert buffet is added.

A waiter proffers a tea menu, including popular choices such as Earl Grey as well as lesser-known varieties.

Afternoon tea (sometimes termed “Devonshire tea”, “English tea” or “cream tea”) is marketed these days by many hotels. But somehow it seems more authentic in its time-warp Windsor setting.

Tiers before bedtime? I plan to explore Melbourne’s humming after-dark scene, but I can forgive my host’s play on words.

Just outside the Windsor—between the hotel and the neighbouring State Parliament—I board the free City Circle tram. A worthy innovation, it is aimed at visitors but a few Melburnians board it for short rides.

A taped commentary is broadcast, highlighting the Melbourne Cricket Ground to our left and the Crown Casino with its restaurant-studded riverside precinct just across the Yarra River. Federation Square, museums, galleries, theatres, shopping malls and Melbourne’s celebrated lanes are all on our route to the new Docklands area with its apartment buildings, office, shops, restaurants and football stadium.

Our loop continues and I leave the tram outside the Windsor after a 45-minute orientation. It is dark when I stop for a beer in the off-the-lobby Cricketers Bar with its many photographs—most in black-and-white—and other bric-a-brac as reminders of bygone matches.

The lobby looks even plusher at night. Beneath its chandeliers is an opulent expanse of deep leather armchairs, antiques and artworks.

The Hotel Windsor, Ph: 03 9633 6000 or www.thehotelwindsor.com.au is a city landmark where afternoon tea costs $45 a head (Mon- Fri) or $65 (Sat-Sun). For more information, contact Tourism Victoria on 13 28 42 or www.visitvictoria.com

It sounds like it might be stuffy and boring, but Julie Ihle finds that Old Parliament House is a genuine national treasure.

There’s a secret peephole between the offices of the Prime minister and his private secretary at Old Parliament House in Canberra, but Bob Hawke covered it with a bookcase.

Brian, our guide, shows us the peephole and its view of the prime ministerial bookcase.

So far we have seen peepholes, a hidden safe exposed by treading on a particular floorboard, and a secret hideout for journalists, above the Opposition leader’s office.

Who said politics was boring? And who said Canberra had not soul?

Old Parliament House creaks with atmosphere and the ghosts of prime ministers past. It has witnessed some of our most important historical moments, such as Gough Whitlam’s 1975 dismissal, declaration of war against Japan in 1941 and the 1964 introduction of Vietnam conscription.

A free 45-minute tour of Old Parliament House leaves several times a day and is led by volunteers, usually ex-staffers, who clearly love the place. Our guide Brian’s enthusiasm is obvious, but I have a feeling he is keeping Old Parliament House’s juiciest stories to himself.

After much debate on what to do with the historic building, including the possibility of demolition, it has been re-opened as a museum of political history and national heritage site. The transformation is fabulous, and you don’t have to be a political junkie to find it interesting.

It’s a glimpse into another era and, some might argue, a more colourful one. The tour covers almost all areas of Old Parliament House—King’s Hall, House of Representatives and Senate, party rooms, prime minister’s office and Cabinet room, as well as the galleries, many of which have been converted into changing exhibitions. As we walk the former corridors of power, we can’t help noticing how dark and dingy it is.

“It was meant to be only a temporary building but it lasted over 60 years”, Brian explains. “When they ran out of room they just kept extending it.”

He shows us one of the less successful extensions, the 70’s wing, with burnt orange décor and mission brown kitchen.

Key periods in history are also reflected in other rooms on display.

The Country Party room is my favourite, with its comfy 1930s armchairs and clubby wood panels. Everywhere we turn are clocks and bells to remind senators of parliamentary sittings.

We see a small sitting room, set up especially for the Queen’s 1954 visit. It’s fabulous “50s flashback with green couch and chintzy paintings to make Her Majesty feel right at home.

We drop in briefly to Senate Stories, an exhibition related to some of Australia’s most colourful senators, before Brian leads us to the power base: the Cabinet room and prime minister’s office.

What was once the nation’s nerve centre seems unprepossessing. The staff quarters are cramped and the Cabinet room itself is functional rather than grandiose, maybe a bit like the nation itself.

From here, visitors can step into the prime minister’s office. It is a pleasant but largely utilitarian room, with the PM’s desk sitting directly below two large glass windows.

In these security-conscious times, it’s incredible to think that the prime minister of the day once sat under windows with direct public access.

The office itself is decorated just as it was in the days of Bob Hawke—the last prime minister to work there—complete with a form guide, which apparently he always kept on the right corner of the desk. The tour ends at King’s Hall.

From here you can pop into other exhibitions that caught your fancy on the way; but a coffee mug emblazoned with your favourite prime minister; or chow down at the wonder café, Order in the House.

I take Brian’s suggestion and head up the rickety staircase to the press gallery, which has a permanent exhibition called Leaks, Scoops and Scandals, and is preserved as it was during the heady days of the 1970s. There are other changing exhibitions—Mrs Prime Minister is worth a look, as is Billy Hughes at War.

Outside, the House of Representatives courtyard the old staff canteen has become a classy bistro, Café in the House.

Seated in the sun-dappled courtyard dining on such delicacies as roast Pumpkin, sage and goat’s cheese pasta, you can ponder Old Parliament House’s many secrets.

A good choice of airlines serves Canberra from interstate capitals and regional centres, and there are also bus and rail links.
Open daily 9am-5pm (closed Christmas Day). Admission $2 adults, $1 children and concessions, $5 family. Free tours depart daily from King’s Hall every 45 minutes between 9.30am and 3.45pm.
For more information, phone (02) 6270 8222 or visit www.oph.gov.au