12/12/23 Vineyards, Wild Sheep, and Not Enough Coffee: The Reisling Rattler Rail Trail

 Some days my get up and go just gets up and goes, leaving me to roll out of bed with no energy at all. Today was one of those days so it was probably a good thing that I had less than 40km to cycle, most of that downhill and with a tail wind on the Reisling and Rattler rail trails.

The start.  Which in reality is in the middle, just outside of Auburn where the Reisling morphs in to the Rattler and both of them are signed as the Mawson, just to be confusing.

The Reisling trail ran through Clare to Auburn, segueing into the Rattler trail which continued to Riverton.  I rode happily through vineyards, dodging showers by ducking into the strategically placed shelters along the trail.  Wineries advertised their cellar doors, cafes, and  restaurants which lay just off the trail.

3.7 km in and the temptation began.

After hauling my weary self up the challenging 1% gradient for 4km, I reached the highest point of the trail.

My type of sign.

From there it was all downhill.  The country opened out to wide, rumpled hills of vineyards with vines dressed in their best summer clothes.

I stopped at all the information signs and learned about Mr Horrocks who was one of the first European settlers in the area, spending his first couple of years living in a tree while he built a cottage. The trail had regular art installations at which I stopped for appropriate amounts of art appreciation.

I also learned all about the rocks and geology of the Clare Valley.

Rocks of the Clare Valley.  I read all about them and had I remembered what I read, I would be able to tell you all about them.  But I didn't, so I can't.

I rolled into Auburn just as all the signs for cafes and restaurants were getting to me, so I stopped at a cafe for a very nice cup of tea and scones.  I was the only customer, and my tea and scones were served by a very congenial British ex-pat with whom I had a very long chat and solved most of the world's pressing problems and then some.  Sadly, I couldn't solve the minor difficulty of the end of the trail being some 15km away in Riverton with the only way for me to get there being by bicycle, so back on my bicycle I got to do what I had to do.

"There's a really nice cafe in Riverton too," she said.  "The Riverton Emporium.  Make sure you check it out."

I was now on the Rattler trail.  The vineyards ceased abruptly and wheat became the dominant crop again.  The sun came out and with it the flies, one of which I swallowed.  Hacking and spitting, I plugged up hill and down dale with a minor excitement when I came across a gang blocking my way.  No pesky gang of unshorn reprobates was going to stand between me and the Riverton Emporium.  Relentlessly, I chased them down and bullied them off the track,

 and off I went to the Riverton Emporium where I waited for Roger to collect me.

It's a tough life.

Street art, Riverton.

Roger arrived suffering from trauma.  The power had been out all day at our caravan park and he had had insufficient caffeine to ensure that the day was tolerable.  He arrived in Riverton just as all the cafes brought in their menus, stowed their flags, packed up their chairs, and I slurped up the last of my delicious iced coffee.

We set out in the car, ostensibly to take me and my bicycle home but in reality we both knew what was going on: Roger needed coffee and he was going to get it one way or the other.  He was, in fact, being driven to the edge by cafe deprivation.

A man on the edge.  But caffeinated. He found what he needed in Saddleworth.

And then we went home, via  Mintaro which was chockablock with beautiful stone buildings and touted a maze (closed at late o'clock on a Tuesday) and the grand Martindale Hall (also closed).  We took notes and planned to visit Mintaro again when we had more time and Roger's back was better.

Home for our time in Clare.  At least the sun was shining, even if the power was out.