Chateau Yaldara winery in the Barossa Valley, South Australia (left), Indian Pacific transcontinental train at station in Adelaide, headed for Perth (below)

South Australia
By Stan Morse
February 17, 1998

I've moved on to Adelaide. Melbourne was great, but my four-week room-rental got a bit stressful near the end.

For a while, I was off the internet. Due to my host's puzzling unwillingness to let me use the phone. It wasn't an open denial; I was just told that the phone was not working (She kept telling me it was "stuffed" or "buggered"). When I dialed, an announcement said my number was "not available from this service". Except, one afternoon when the family was out I punched the redial button to check the service, and got the announcement: "Your Telstra call control feature is now off". And then, I could make calls. Obviously, someone had recently unblocked the service using the kitchen phone.

There was no point in a confrontation. It would only have made my stay unpleasant, or left me scrambling to find a hotel room. So I was patient, left as scheduled, and never mentioned my discovery.

Unfortunately, my inability to get internet access precluded sending more articles about Melbourne and the Australian Open to the paper. Sometimes, things don't go as planned. I'm getting better at not letting unplanned problems get under my skin. But I'm sorry about not having been able to share with you, my faithful readers, more of my Melbourne experiences. You'll just have to buy the book!

So, on to Adelaide. Where the weather is the best I've encountered in Australia. Days in the low 80's, nights in the 60's. Dry. Blue skies. In a word: idyllic.

In contrast, the land is stark.

To the north, the vast central wasteland known as "The Alice" begins; a place where red earth and minimal water choke away all but the hardiest lifeforms. To the west is a vast desert, so flat that at one stretch the rail line runs arrow-straight for hundreds of kilometers. >From these wastelands, scorching winds regularly sweep down upon Adelaide.

Australia's longest river, the Murray, which begins as a vibrant creek 2,000 miles away in Queensland, now flows sluggish and brown, a few yards across and a few feet deep, industrially and agriculturally polluted. It is the Murray that provides much of the area's water supply. Even when it's cleaned up by filtration, the water is, well . . . interesting. The guide for the Barossa Valley wine tour I took put it this way: "Adelaide is one of only two cities in the world where cruise ships refuse to take on water."

The tap water can resemble strained lemonade. It's biologically safe, but the profound mineral flavor causes most residents to buy bottled water or install home filtering systems.

The Barossa trip was nice, particularly because our guide Kevin (who turned out to be the owner of Prime Mini Tours) was energetic and informative. Australian's will tell you that they suffer from "tall poppy syndrome" -- high-achievers are viewed with suspicion (ie: all poppies are supposed to be the same height). In the same breath, they'll tell you that they admire the positive American attitude and aggressive work ethic.

That's not to say that there aren't hard-working, industrious Australians. Kevin is an example (as was my dive instructor, Gavin, in Cairns).

When I called to book the tour, explaining that I was in a wheelchair, he cheerfully told me it would be no problem; he'd make sure I got on and off the bus. During the transfers, he was always there, holding the chair, grabbing my feet to help me swing into position, making sure I didn't fall. He went the extra mile to ensure that my tour was pleasant and safe.

I've developed a technique for boarding mini-busses lacking wheelchair lifts. I take a pillow from the hotel, put it on the second step of the van, then transfer onto the pillow. Then, I remove the cushion from my chair, put it on the floor of the bus behind me, and lift myself up. From there, I hoist myself onto the passenger seat. It saves wear-and-tear on my rear. Skin breakdown is a critical issue for those in wheelchairs. Break the skin, and it lays you up for days, even weeks, most of the time spent lying on your stomach in bed.

On this tour, I managed to keep my rear cushioned from the hard floor of the bus during all 14 transfers.

The Barossa is a shallow valley resembling the Napa and Sonoma in California and the Yakima in Washington State. Checkered with vineyards that annually produce 50,000 tons of grapes, as well as olives and a variety of fruits, the Barossa is an oasis in the middle of a grassy prairie faded to summer browns and yellows. The only shade outside of the small towns comes from the occasional eucalyptus tree, and daytime temperatures can easily top 100 degrees. In this climate, even the wines can be harsh.

Most Australians prefer their wines tannic and oaky -- wine with a bite. Shiraz, Cabernet and Chardonnay varietals predominate.

I like smooth red wines, like Merlot and Bordeaux. Few vineyards grow Merlot, and I've not yet seen Bordeaux. So after sampling several wines that ranged from tannic to almost-vinegary, I switched to dessert wines. Some superb Ports come from the Barossa. But a day of sampling fortified Port wines can be "A bit of a drama" as the locals would say. As with my Hunter Valley tour in December, I ended the day with several glasses of water before boarding the bus to return to Adelaide.

That evening I had Thai food. The restaurant's owners -- after hearing of my project -- gave me a card of introduction to their tailor in Bangkok. The husband was wearing a custom-made polo cotton shirt that he said cost $3.00 (US). I can't wait to price suits!

But first, I've got a two-day train ride aboard the legendary Indian Pacific, which crosses one of the world's most desolate regions: the Nullabor Plain. Then, a few days in Perth, before I leave Australia for Singapore and Bangkok.