The road stretched out before me and the Big Dog, my four-wheel drive, ate up the kilometres. The ugliness of the urban environment quickly gave way to the golden browns of rolling hills dotted with fields and interspersed with the green foliage of Australian scrubland; contrasting was the vivid blue Australian sky - If you've experienced it, you'll know how pleasing it is. It was a crisp morning, I'd saddled up and left home in the early morning, but would warm to a day of low 20's and, accompanied by road-trip music, I was off north for an adventure in the countryside.
The plan was, no real plan, although I had an initial destination.
I'd heard of a farmer's market held in a small country town called Saddleworth, some 110 kilometres north of the capital of Adelaide. It's a small place, very rural, and I was curious to see what the market was like. From there I'd point the Big Dog in any direction and let him take me somewhere not really caring where I ended up; I had a full tank of diesel, a range of about 1000 kilometres, and all day to get lost.
It felt nice driving through the town of my birth, seeing the familiar sights and locations that hold such fond youthful memories for me. After a quick stop for coffee at one of my favourite roadhouse's up the road a bit, in the tiny town of Roseworthy, I settled in for the drive allowing the hum of tyres on the blacktop and the tunes lull me into a feeling of deep contentment.
Sunday's, road-trips and the Australian countryside agree with me.
Saddleworth farmer's market
The farmer's market was...I'm going to say ok, although the truth of the matter is I wasn't all that impressed.
I'd expected to see country-style bric-a-brac, odds and ends, loads of local produce and interesting arts and crafts. Sure, there was some, and I enjoyed perusing the stuff, however around a third of the market was filled with imported Chinese-made rubbish which I totally ignored. A local bakery was represented, and I picked up some things to take home and there was a cool metal worker from whom I purchased a bird house pole, basically a rustic-looking steel rod of about 180cm in length that looks like a shepherd's crook. It's nicely weathered and will look perfect in my garden with my native bird house hanging from it.
I spoke to a weird alternative guy, who looked like he had animals nesting in his hair. He was selling exotic chickens and ducks and their eggs which were all sorts of colours from white, brown, green and shades of blue. He seemed a good chap, smelled like he sleeps with his birds (which is highly likely) and we had a few laughs as he explained a few things. He seemed knowledgeable and was very passionate about what he did, which I respected.
I wandered about for a little while longer, chatted with a few stallholders and then lost interest...Not even the hot donut stall could hold my attention. It was time to move on.
Mintaro and Martindale Hall
From Saddleworth I headed another 24 kilometres further north deciding it would be a good day to visit a local attraction in a place called Mintaro.
I'm not sure if I can accurately call Martindale Hall a Manor House although it resembles such, albeit much smaller. I'll call it a Hall I think as that's what it's referred to.
Built in 1879 for a fellow called Edmund Bowman; constructed from local sandstone in the Georgian style the Hall comprises thirty-two rooms, seven of which are cellar-rooms. Sixty tradesmen took twenty-three months to complete it at a cost of 30,000 pounds. (That's about 3,972,113 pounds in today's money.)
The Hall is some one hundred and thirty-five kilometres from the city of Adelaide so is a fair way into the countryside but that suited Edmund Sr as he was a sheep farmer. His grandparents, sheep farmers from the Lake Districts of England, had arrived in Australia in 1829, bringing a small flock of their best sheep, and settled in Tasmania. Only ten years later Edmund Sr had moved to Adelaide, in South Australia where he built a house called Barton Vale at a location called Pine Forest, now an Adelaide suburb called Enfield. The house still stands today.
It wasn't long before Edmund Sr yearned for the sheep-farming life though and he set out, following the Wakefield River, to the north of Adelaide near Mintaro where he found and purchased 9159 acres of land calling it Martindale Station; named for one of the verdant green valleys the family used to run sheep on back in England.
They ran Merino sheep, whose wool is highly prized then and now, at Martindale Station and made a fortune. He married a girl called Elizbeth and they had seven children. Unfortunately, Edmund Sr drowned in that same Wakefield River, which was in flood at the time, and left the family to fend for itself; his eldest son, also called Edmund (Jr), was eleven at the time.
The opulence of the dining room contrasts sharply against the utilitarian butler's/servers pantry.
Elizabeth's nephew, William, took over the running of the Station over the years Edmund Jr studied law at Cambridge, England (the family were very wealthy). It was there Edmund Jr became infatuated with the English lifestyle which prompted him to build the lavish Martindale Hall (in the style of English manor houses) back home in Australia.
The grounds included a polo field, boating lake, cricket pitch and a horse racing course all surrounded by the rest of the property on which the sheep grazed. Interestingly, the English national cricket team played on the cricket pitch which would have been a very big deal at the time, especially considering the distance they would have needed to travel from Adelaide.
The family led a very extravagant lifestyle, and the Hall hosted many notable people from Adelaide society including such prestigious groups as the Adelaide Hunt Club. Their life was one of privilege and graciousness...all set in a rural location in the middle of nowhere almost one hundred and fifty kilometres from the nearest city.
It would have been magnificent to see in its heyday, the grounds, the Hall and how it was all run, and life there would have been rather splendid I'd say however, like most things, there's an endpoint and it was in 1891 when Edmund Jr's lavish lifestyle at Martindale Hall reached it.
Due to over-expansion, the depression experienced in the mid 1880's and a savage drought (always a possibility in Australia) he was forced to sell Martindale Hall and move away. I'm not sure what happened to him although, he would have been very wealthy still so I'm sure he, and his family, were well catered for.
The story continues
Another South Australian (wealthy) grazier (and politician), William Tenant Mortlock, purchased Martindale Station which included the Hall. He paid 33,000 pounds and the purchase was a wedding present to his wife Rosye Tenant. It seems William didn't mind throwing his wealth around.
Life would have been very comfortable for the extremely affluent Mortlock's as they raised their family at Martindale station over the years.
The portrait shows William Mortlock, the second owner of Martindale Hall.
They had six children although, as was so common back then, only two boys survived to become adults. Life was hard sometimes, even for the privileged. The son, John, born in 1894, inherited Martindale Station - his brother Frederick was drowned.
John was an avid traveller and spent his time visiting all parts of the world bringing artifacts and curiosities back to Martindale Hall, most of which can still be seen displayed in the Hall to this day. Unfortunately, the only furniture remaining form the Bowman era, the original owners, is the imported billiard table which was placed in the room prior to the north wall being completed due to the size of it.
The billiard room. The table is massive and was installed into the room prior to the external wall being completed.
The house is set up and decorated though, much as it would have been back in the day, and each room represents the style of the occupant be it the owners, children or maids and servants.
In 1948 John was married however died just over a year later at fifty-five years of age.
The property was bequeathed to the University of Adelaide and his wife made the trustee. She eventually gave the property over to the University in 1965 and died just over ten years later. The South Australian Government now own the property and around forty-five acres of land surrounding it; the property is used as a tourist attraction with accommodation at the rear, separate from the Hall, used for short stays. It used to be possible to have dinner-stays there which were quite sought-after (and expensive) although many spoke of hearing and seeing things in the house that were unexplainable. It's now available for weddings and conferences.
Lunch and home
I spent some time wandering about the Hall looking at the bits and pieces, soaking up the atmosphere and imagining what life might have been like for those that called the Hall home.
These days the grounds hold none of the features once developed there although the house is intact and in good condition and the coach house also survives. It's easy to get a feel for life there and I think it would have been very comfortable for the owners and the family despite being a long way from Adelaide. Keep in mind transport was horse or horse and cart back then so a quick trip to the city wasn't much of an option. The family and staff would have needed to be self-sufficient and would have had to make their own fun which, I'm sure they did.
From Martindale Hall I decided to head over to Clare for a look around. The Clare Valley is a very respected wine region but I'm not into wine so that's not what attracts me; I just like the area, the country feeling of it. But before heading into Clare it was time for lunch.
Being the simple man I am, lunch was a rather simple affair.
I'd packed a crusty sourdough loaf of bread (un-cut), a hunk of cheese, some olives, pickled onions, a couple tomatoes (grown by me), some ham, roasted chicken plus a small jar of chutney I'd bought a while back. The idea was a ploughman's lunch. I pulled the Big Dog over at a spot that gave me a view down a small valley and over grazing land dotted with sheep (and a few kangaroos), gathered the stuff together and enjoyed a relaxing lunch of bread torn from the loaf accompanied by the other tasty morsels I'd brought. I was content for an hour or so.
After a quick visit to Clare, a walk up and down the main street and a poke around in a couple antique shops, I headed home feeling satisfied with the day.
It was a nice way to spend Sunday and a great day in general, one I needed to be honest, and whilst not a great deal had happened in it, I found a good level of contentment and happiness. The drive in the country, the 300 kilometre round trip, a squiz (look) at some interesting things, a little history and a very legit ploughman's lunch in the countryside hit the spot and was a great way to use up a Sunday.
Design and create your ideal life, don't live it by default - Tomorrow isn't promised so be humble and kind
All images are my own