Becoming Clare locals
This morning was unreasonably cold. The Clare we know from our last winter visit knocked on the door and said, ‘Welcome back Queenslander’. We froze until G found her new jacket purchased in Hay, whereupon the world was a better place once again.
After steaming hot showers and a few aimless laps of the van we took ourselves to a recommended coffee spot a few ks south. Velvet and Willow is a damned good coffee shop. The tea was made perfectly, the coffee good enough and the ham, cheese and tomato toasty up there with the best. Boasting tasteful background music from our era and a sunken eating area surrounded by century old sandstone, this place shone. Our day had started well.
Into Clare township we headed. A visit to the only auto parts store in town revealed they had just the weird part I needed to do an electrical job on the car in the afternoon. Funnily enough exactly the same thing happened on our last visit. Unfortunately the hardware shop nearby was not up to the same standard, being unable to provide a tube of Silastic.
We walked the main street for a while. G booked a hair appointment for tomorrow and I got a haircut. I’m always nervous when it comes to paying for a haircut. I never know whether I will get a fair price or whether it will have a metrosexual tax added and cost a bomb. At $25 this one was a steal. Almost worth the drive back every month or so for such a bargain. According to the hair assessor it looks OK, but not necessarily great.
Sevenhill winery is apparently the oldest in the area. It is somehow slotted into a church yard perched on top of a hill just out of Clare. Not sure whether the winery owned the church, or the church owned the winery. Probably the latter as the Jesuits brought the original vines to the area on a slow boat from wherever Jesuits come from. Either way it would be a bugger to keep a grape vine alive for months on end at sea.
We saw the sign saying ‘Sevenhill’ yet missed the one beside it saying ‘entrance 300 metres’. Our entrance thus became an unplanned visit to a graveyard, a trip down a 4×4 track amongst grape vines, a short excursion down a cycle only path, a drop down a bank back onto the 4×4 track and a drive into the back of the winery rather than the front. We figured we did not need the winery tour on offer at the cellar door. We got lost leaving as well!!
The cracker of the day however came when we visited a crypt positioned under the church. Here twenty or so priests are interned. It was as it was. No touristy polish, just a small dark place with plaques marking sealed coffin size holes in the wall. We noticed at the far end there was two empty holes. We chose to exit quickly just in case those we decide fate saw an opportunity to fill the holes with us to finish the job and move on to a new project.
For lunch we took advice and drove the short distance to Mister Micks winery. Not realising we had been here before, the vine covered walls of the old brick building gave it away on our approach. We had Tapas apparently. In my words we had lovely bread, Haloumi (G had that. I’d rather eat leather soaked in petrol), meat balls and Arancini balls. To say the food was amazing is an understatement. It was that good; served with style and cost about a third of what we are used to paying at home. It might be worth the drive back to get lunch and a haircut.
Our late afternoon was spent on household chores. Washing, fixing little things on the van and making an Anderson plug outlet for the car so we can charge the second battery from solar panels.
Some dinner and chocolate later and we were ready for bed.