Famous for its world-class wine, cheese, chocolate and surfing beaches – almost everything that makes life worth living – the Margaret River region, around three hours south of Perth, WA, is a place to visit and revisit whenever the opportunity arises.
This time, it arose from my inbox in the form of an irresistibly priced Groupon for three nights at a hotel called Stay Margaret River. ($429 for three nights in one of their big Deluxe Rooms, and that included a $75 F&B voucher and a bottle of local wine.)
Brookwood – just one of 187 wineries in Margaret River
Festive season family catch-up; outing to Armadale
We’ve been in Perth WA since 20 December, having come here as usual to join the family for Christmas: son Carl, his wife Carrie and our granddaughters Mia and Holly; daughter Wendy, who’s visiting from France; and younger daughter Blaire, who now lives just up the road with her husband Colin and their delightful new baby, Samuel John Cartwright.
Here are some festive season photos to introduce the cast for my next few blogposts, so to speak:
It’s not often enough that my beloved sister, our BFF Julie and I get together, what with Dale living in London, Julie in Durban and me all over the place. When we do, revisiting the KwaZulu-Natal Midlands Meander has become a tradition – even if we have only one day for it.
And so the Three Mustgetbeers of old, with trusty Julie at the wheel of her Toyota RAV4, set off early one weekday morning for the KZN Midlands. The mission: to revisit a couple of favourite haunts and possibly find a few others.
The Brasserie at The Edward; Fig Tree at Simbithi Eco Estate Golf Club; curry buffet at The Oyster Box
While in Durban, Roy and I tend to eat out nearly as often as at home. For one thing, it’s relatively affordable. For another, I seem to become lazier by the year when it comes to the sort of dinner-party entertaining I used to do so effortlessly (as I remember it, anyway). Let someone else do the kitchen slog.
After almost four months on our Dutch replica Piper barge “Karanja”, cruising the Canal de Garonne and enjoying our home port of Moissac, it’s almost time to fly south for the winter. Before we go, here’s a tribute to an interesting local restaurant with a unique heritage – Le Kiosque de l’Uvarium.
It’s located literally three minutes’ walk from our mooring, on the esplanade that leads along the bank of the Tarn river to the Hôtel Le Moulin.
Promenade along the river Tarn, leading to Hôtel Le Moulin
It was time to fetch the Renault Twingo from Fontet and bring it back to the boat, so Roy and I walked to Moissac station and caught the 13.26 train to Agen.
With two hours to kill before our connection to La Réole (the station nearest to Fontet), I thought we’d end up lunching on a tired baguette – but no! We lucked out with La Grande Brasserie, located right next to our arrival platform.
He spots it, right on the platform – La Grande Brasserie!
Only later did we find out that it’s pretty famous, and that UK chef Rick Stein recommended it in one of his travel series.
Review: La Grande Brasserie, Agen train station
The décor is perfect. In the chequerboard-tiled bar, oversized clocks show the time in Londres, Agen and Moscou. High ceilings, comfortable banquette seating and wooden strip-flooring set the scene for Art Deco mouldings on walls hung with travel posters from the golden age of train travel.
La Grande Brasserie, view to the back
With miles to go before we slept, we decided on a beer and a single course. Roy’s salade niçoise (around €14) came with generous chunks of seared fresh tuna and looked great. I had the bouillabaisse-like marmite de la mer (€18.50), a thick, bisque-y broth crammed with delectable little mussels, more salmon and tuna than I could manage, and small saffron-yellow potatoes, topped with a giant prawn.
Salade niçoise
Marmite de la mer
This is a destination restaurant – how lucky we were to stumble upon it en route! Fabulously quick and friendly service added to the experience, too.
Once at La Réole, Roy installed himself at a café to rest his knee while I set off on foot over the bridge across the Garonne River to the Fontet halte nautique car park, about a 3km walk. It was a relief to find the Twingo intact and raring to go after having been abandoned for two weeks.
Un été caniculaire; Le Farniente Fourquais and the mineral man of La Fallotte; of fish that wriggle in Buzet; sweltering in Sérignac, broiling in Boé and grilling in Golfech
This has been un été caniculaire, as the French put it – not a summer heatwave, but a full-on heatwave summer.
Even the sunflowers are drooping in the heat
Fortunately, we were in no hurry. With no agenda but to be back in Moissac in time for the 10-12 August boat festival, or fête des plaisanciers, we could take it easy.
On our last day at Fontet base de loisirs (or leisure base), I was lolling around after a swim in the lake when Tui arrived, bearing friendly Kiwis Lindsay Sweeney and Vicki Ritchie. Drinks aboard Karanja were clearly in order.
Our Karanja safely moored in Fontet on the Canal de Garonne, it was time to see something of the west coast. The resort town of Arcachon is one of the closest Atlantic coastal spots from here, and a favourite holiday spot for the French.
According to podcaster Hugo on innerfrench.com (my latest addiction), French holidaymakers can be divided into two groups: those who flock to the Med (the Côte D’Azur, Sainte-Tropez), and those – many of them Parisian – who prefer the Atlantic coast.
The drive from Frontet can take as little as 90 minutes by motorway, but Roy instructed the Garmin to avoid all such conveniences and to take the back-roads instead.
Old dog, new tricks – me driving on the wrong side of the road to Pont-des-Sables; mediocre lunch in medieval Marmande; frazzled fuses, fan-belt frustration and the fabulous Fabré Pierre at Fontet
Villeton to Pont-des-Sables
A big day for me! We’d spent a full week in Villeton, and now we were were heading for Pont-des-Sables on Karanja, my plan being to cycle the 16km back along the tow-path to collect the Twingo and drive it back to Roy and the boat.
Why is it such a big deal? Well, I’d never ever driven a car on the right side of the road, and in France they kind of expect you to do that.
Voila! – I’m finally motivated to learn to fold down the Brompton bike – a necessary feat if I’m going to be stowing it in the boot
