Delivering the mail

Our accommodation at the Mercure Resort , adjacent to the Hunter Valley Gardens (more on that tomorrow) is certainly spacious. My huge room contains a king-sized bed the size of a tennis court. I can barely find myself among the bedclothes. The resort too is on a grand scale, several hundred metres from end to end. I’m not sure of the logic of putting a group of elderly guests, none with cars and many with mobility issues at the furthest distance from the restaurant and Reception, but who am I to query such things?

We knew that we’d be on an unavoidably tight schedule this morning since the kitchen inflexibly wouldn’t open until 7am sharp while we had to be ready and on the bus by 7.45am in order to get to Brooklyn in time to catch the Postman’s Ferry for our next adventure. Given that there was a large and very comprehensive hot and cold breakfast buffet, and given also those long-distance treks to and from our rooms I was firmly convinced that we’d either be travelling with only half the bus passengers or we’d be standing on the wharf at Brooklyn while watching the ferry disappear up the river. In fact neither of these things happened and, after a pleasant 1.5 hour bus trip through picturesque countryside we got there in good time. Everyone in our group had risen to the occasion.

Nowadays, delivery of mail to isolated settlements with no road access along the river is more of a sideline compared to the two ferries, each bigger than a Brisbane CityCat, carrying tourists on the three-hour return journey. I couldn’t help remarking that the postal service to those tiny riverfront communities is far better than we receive in suburban Brisbane. It’s also interesting to observe how full these mail sacks seemed to be. Are the residents so bored that they spend their waking hours writing to penpals all round the world? Unlikely. Instead, I was trying to promote my conspiracy theory, possibly true, that these sacks contain piles of blank paper which constantly travel up and down the river, between Brooklyn and the settlements.

All that aside, it was a very enjoyable trip in perfect weather, enlivened by an interesting and entertaining running commentary from the skipper. From there it was a long but scenic drive back to base, where I went for a nice long exploratory walk. Passing through Cessnock, an attractive historic town I noticed a Greek restaurant called Tatziki. So far, so good, but painted on the window under the restaurant name it said: "A taste of Greece." (Say it out loud). For the next few minutes I could think of nothing else. Did the owner have his tongue in his cheek when he adopted the slogan or did he really not know what he was doing? I wish I knew the answer.

I almost omitted mentioning the tourist trap, the chocolate factory on the outskirts of Pokolbin. Huge varieties of chocolate in every size, style and flavour one can think of, all at outrageous prices. Admittedly, there was a bigger variety of chocolate in every size, shape and flavour than one could poke the proverbial stick at, and I largely resisted temptation, buying just one packet of (overpriced) chocolate coconut balls. I was slightly disappointed to see that while all their chocolate is made in Australia, it's all from imported ingredients. Can’t they at least use Australian sugar and dairy products? Then it was back to base at Mercure Resort. The resort, gardens and general scenery are great. Tomorrow promises to be a relaxing day, with a gardens tour, a winery tour and a generally flexible program. Looking forward to it..Read more