Day 7 – Wednesday, January 21
Built in Belfast in 1868 the 3-masted iron ship, Star of Greece, ran into a violent storm off Port Willunga in the early hours of July 13, 1888. She was a regular visitor to Adelaide and bound for England with her cargo of wheat when disaster struck. There’s some confusion but most reckon that at least 17 poor souls perished that day.
Every cloud….., as they say. The Star of Greece bistro now commemorates the unfortunate ship, and is perched shyly on the shallow cliffs above the shimmering waters of Gulf St Vincent, off the west coast of South Australia below Adelaide.
Gill and I dropped into the cafe on a whim, late one afternoon on our road trip of the Fleurieu Peninsula as we headed back to Adelaide. They were fully booked but found us a spot on the balcony outside, directly overlooking the picture-perfect beach and in Pom-searing heat, despite the lateness of the hour. The service was so considerate that they conjured up a couple of wide-brimmed hats to protect our already burnt northern hemisphere faces from further punishment.
1 Southern Ocean kingfish sashimi with smoked Goolwa cockles, 1 serving of Spencer Gulf king prawns with green chilli and lime salsa, 1 Kangaroo Island salt & pepper squid with Yuzu mayo, 1 barramundi fish with a quinoa crust, and a couple of exquisitely chilled glasses of wine later, and we were really missing home. Really.
Earlier in the day, we had headed south from our overnight base in the affluent McLaren Vale wine area towards Victor Harbor (yes, spelt the dodgy US way) towards the southern tip of the Peninsula. But that town felt a bit too kiss-me-quick for our Surrey sensitivities, its Victorian heritage undone by a few more recent town planners.
My abiding memory of Victor Harbor will be John, a sprightly weather-beaten host at the Tourist Office. He went to the UK and mainland Europe for the global Scout Jamboree in 1957, as a 21 year-old . He was away from Australia for 6 months, of which 2 were spent on a boat, forced around the southern tip of Africa on the way out because of the Suez crisis. He preferred Denmark to England, but has never returned to either. Yet.
We liked the sleepy nearby hamlet of Goolwa, with its local Steam Exchange Brewery serving small tasters of excellent ales and Hector’s, a sea shanty-like cafe right on the water in the shadow of the Hindmarsh Island bridge, but serving sophisticated food with a relaxed marine ambience.
Returning north our jaws dropped at the string of long, sandy and almost deserted beaches lining the Gulf’s coastline. Locals drive their roo-busting 4 WD wagons straight onto the sand, but we wandered down on foot and dipped our white toes into the cooling water of Sellicks Beach, before slurping ice creams on the path above Aldinga Conservation Park, its boardwalk descending to the water like the elongating ladder from a toy truck.
We’d like to have explored Kangaroo Island too whilst in South Australia but with another road trip to see Gill’s family in nearby Wallaroo to come, we’d run out of time. But a couple of days exploring the McLaren Vale and Fleurieu Peninsula were a good option. And the image of those beaches and the view from the Star of Greece cafe will stay long in the memory.