Up early, to finish packing for my departure. Rae and Bert had kindly volunteered to drive me to the bus depot for my 9:00am bus, and this made heading out much easier. So, again, I said good-bye to good Aussie friends and continued on my way.
Barry, the driver of the Adelaide-Barossa bus, was an amiable man who informed me of much of what we passed, as we headed out of Adelaide and into the Barossa Valley–wine country. We drove through charming old Gawler, then Tanunda, a finally into Nuriootpa, where Nikki was waiting for me at the bus stop. (If you’ve read Waltzing Australia, you might remember Nikki from my tour of Western Australia. She was one of the English women with whom I became friends, but unlike the other English women I met, she did not return home, having fallen in love with someone in Australia–Richard–shortly after I last saw her in Perth.)
We drove to her absolutely delightful house, on the edge of town. It is light and airy, very Australian, surrounded by gardens, and filled with Nikki’s fine needlework, travel mementos of hers and Richard’s, and charming antiques. I loved it. (And I could move in tomorrow, without even having to change the books or music CDs.)
Nikki took me on a whirlwind tour of the Barossa Valley, showing me the sorts of things I would never have seen on the wine tour I took during my previous visit to Australia. We drove through small, tidy towns, past lush vineyards and sprawling wineries, and up to a few impressive, hill-top lookouts. Near Springton, Nikki stopped to show me the Herbig Family Tree.
The Herbig Family Tree is a large, ancient red gum (eucalyptus) that is estimated to be somewhere between 300 and 500 years old. In 1855, a young immigrant named Friedrick Herbig made the sprawling, hollowed base of this tree his home. When he married in 1858, this is the home to which he brought his bride, and their first two children were born while the couple was still living in the hollowed out tree. It would hardly have been weather proof, and with a base that is about 23 feet in diameter, it would really have only offered space for sleeping and maybe a few possessions. Finally, in 1860, Herbig managed to build a house nearby. Apparently, descendents still show up every few years for a family reunion. Fun story, but looking at the tree, it’s hard to imagine living there. That said, I guess it’s no harder to imagine than the dugouts in riverbanks that some inhabited in other areas I’ve visited. (See my “Digging Burra” post if you haven’t seen photos of dugouts.) Still, it’s the tree and its story are quite remarkable.