Adventures over Yondah

It's a long way removed from Vietnam, Cambodia or Western Europe, but that doesn't mean we're having any less fun. We're about 350km from Adelaide at a self-contained holiday house called Yondah, 20km east of Marion Bay on SA's Yorke Peninsula.

We're here for a deliberately different holiday, one that we can share with our favourite son, Jedi. And he's already had so much fun that as I type, at about 1:45pm on a Tuesday, he's fast asleep on his ridiculously comfortable-looking dog bed.

A bit about Yondah to start: Bec found it through the Facebook updates and photos from her friend Yvette who stayed here about a year ago. Apart from the stunning photos, the place came highly recommended as somewhere to get away with doing as little as possible. So far, that's what we've done.

We left Adelaide around midday and apart from the using tailgaiting idiots and slow drivers, the journey was uneventful, but beautiful. Rounding the apex of the gulf about 20 minutes out of Port Wakefield gives you a taste of what you're in for the further you travel; crystal-clear, still waters, gently rolling hills lush with traditional South Australian scrub or positively bursting with healthy crops (Cooper's get their malting barley from this part of the world). As we got closer to our destination, the towns become ever smaller but more appealing, often with two pubs within a road's width of each other. The local tennis club in one of these tiny hamlets was proudly sponsored by the above-mentioned Cooper's, the sponsor sign saying "proud sponsors of the Port Pirie tennis club" - about 150km away by my guess...

Moving off the main roads we took a long, straight and well maintained dirt road for about 20km and turned left at the second of only two intersections before we'd otherwise crash into the sea. We'd been warned that the sign subtly indicating Yondah had been moved due to road works, and if it weren't for Bec's timely comment that bins should be out we would have driven straight past. But disaster averted, we arrived at the Yondah gate and I was given the task of retrieving keys from a combination-locked box at the gate. I had my usual hopeless fumble with the farmer's lock and wire combination (a sad indictment for someone having grown up on a farm 200km north from where we are now) and we trecked onto what would be our private road for coming days. Driving through yet more healthy crop along another well maintained road, we came to a rise, at the other side of which we saw what we'd come for - the most amazing view of ocean, cliffs, a naturally wild but beautiful garden and an enormous roof covering Yondah's open-plan kitchen, dining and living room, bathroom, three bedrooms and three decks. As we unpacked and began divining for the way to the beach, we noticed far to our south the blurred outline of Kangaroo Island.

The afternoon was cool, but Jedi was keen to explore, so we went hunting for the beach. We quickly realised that although it was close, it was accessible only to goats, or via a very specific path. Relinquishing a polar-style swim, we instead walked along sand dunes masquerading as ridges overlooking stunning vistas of rocky cliff faces, ocean, sky and the beauty of green paddocks. We walked for long enough that we lost track of time and turned back only when my concerns about descending darkness became strong.

Although these fears were unfounded (thank God for spring and, shortly, daylight savings), we returned to the comfort of the household and sat on the side deck enjoying the last of the sun. It wasn't long until the glory of the surrounds demanded a drink be enjoyed with them, and I turned to my trusty Cooper's Pale Ale and Bec had a Mercury Artisan Cider. It would be remiss of me to not comment on beverages in these pages, so I must say that the Artisan is the only cider that comes close to an imported number such as the invincible Magners. My Cooper's was as good as always, savoured at the end of a hard day's bludge.

Of course the next critical element of any George and Bec holiday is food, so as we had our first drinks we also enjoyed a very tasty green olive dip from Jaegger's (sp?) in the Central Markets. That and the first drink simply whetted our appetites, so we got to work on the old favourite for a cold holiday's night, roast chicken. We were grateful for having accidentally picked up a marinated Lillydale chook firstly because it rocked and secondly because it made life so much easier. With very little effort the chook was thrown in the oven, and pumpkin, potatoes and onions followed. Yondah's kindly proprietors had good old Mitani Chicken Salt in the cupboard, so that gave the spuds the extra lift needed (of course chicken fat on its own wasn't enough...).

Anyhow, getting to the point, dinner was delicious and enjoyed with a bottle of Margaret River Semillion. Satisfied and weary, we sat with our wines and watched a few episodes of Lost, catching up on season 3 before tackling the brain-bending season four.

Now it's Tuesday 2pm and I could report on the morning's activities, but given they contain gratuitous nudity and silliness I might leave it for Bec to report.

Cheers