[Written and published during the race, with a bit added afterwards – Ed]
If you turn your telly on right now, you’ll see a peloton of cyclists making its way through lush vineyards and parched paddocks. The Tour Down Under is in the Barossa today.
Having watched the start live, I’ve wandered back to my Tanunda home, a distance of about 200 metres (no joke) and I’m sitting in our closed-in veranda, which we call the long room, watching proceedings on Channel 7. The skies are clear, the temperature is pleasant, and the summer light conveys a sense of the wonderful Barossa as it really can be.
Fortunately, the Tour was not staged last week when temperatures reached 47 degrees here. Thankfully our tomato plants survived. It hurried the nectarines along so now we have dozens on the kitchen bench. We share them with the birds and a ratbag possum.
The Tour is quite something. The trucks arrive in the middle of the night and, by morning, an international event is happening. The whole caravan lobs and we’re ready to go.
The start is scheduled for 11.10am. I wandered up about half an hour before to join the throng. People everywhere.
At the bandstand park, kids are enjoying the bubble machine; some have already had an icecream. It’s something to do during the holidays and they become immersed in the carnival atmosphere. I cross the road and I’m suddenly shoulder to shoulder with locals and tourists, some in the merch of the team they follow, or of another major cycling event, others in the lycra of their own cycling clubs. Some people speak in German – that’s the tourists, not the locals, although I bump into 88 year-old Barossan, the living museum who is Malcolm Kraft (on his gopher) who has a perfect position on the lawn in front of Tabor Lutheran Church. Others chat in accented English.
A swarthy man in a white linen shirt and shorts carries his weathered leather laptop case. I can see in his tired eyes the soul of a sporting correspondent. What will he find today?
People have come from everywhere, including a block-and-a-half away. I bump into our plumber who’s waiting for the first at Oakbank. He’ll settle in to the Valley Hotel.
Nothing speaks commercial lawyer more than a posse of 50-something men in lycra. They will have the best equipment, and speak that language, and have their hair cut by the best hairdressers in Sydney and Melbourne.
Nothing speaks sociologist professor more than a similarly aged woman in lycra (with a similar haircut).
Yes, it has a cosmopolitan flavour in a local setting. The sponsors are corporate and multinational. Some of them are being looked after in pens along Murray Street. They are brought plates of local canapes and, of course, fine wine and coffee. They are protected from us punters by metal fences.
The vibe varies. The two magnificent police horses and their riders are very VFL and one of the kids nearby is in cricket gear because the state Under 16 carnival is also on in the Barossa and he’ll be playing at the Tanunda Oval (next to our house) from one o’clock.
The local (Greek) hamburger joint is getting some good publicity, not that their sensational roast chickens need any spruiking.
The crowd waits.
The clock counts down to 11.10.
The field waits.
The riders are ready. The Australian national anthem is sung.
And they’re off.
Round the first corner they roll, with no urgency. Past Amanti Pizza (not bad) and the Tanunda Clubhouse (the community club-pub)
Around the first corner. Amanti Pizza getting some international recognition. (Supreme with capers is very good)
The kids shake their cow bells.
Up Basedow Road and around to Bethany, the first European village of the Barossa.
They’ll make their way through Lyndoch, where two Gather Round matches are played and, eventually, into the Barossa Ranges. The Tour de France has Mont Ventoux, we have Mengler Hill, from where you can see right across this wonderful Valley and, on a perfect day like today, all the way to St Vincent’s Gulf.
The grapes are oblivious to all of this. They hang, ripening, a month or so away from picking.
The race has unfolded while I’ve tapped this out, it’s time now to head back up the street for a beer with the plumber and a stab at the first at Oakbank, and the denouement.
Photo finish. And there’s a delay at Bendigo.
Read more from John Harms HERE
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About John Harms
JTH is a writer, publisher, speaker, historian. He is founder and contributing editor of The Footy Almanac and footyalmanac.com.au. He has written columns and features for numerous publications. His books include Confessions of a Thirteenth Man, Memoirs of a Mug Punter, Loose Men Everywhere, Play On, The Pearl: Steve Renouf's Story and Life As I Know It (with Michelle Payne). He can be contacted [email protected] He is married to Susan. They have three school-age kids - Theo, Anna, Evie. He might not be the worst putter in the world but he's in the worst four. His ambition was to lunch for Australia but it clashed with his other ambition - to shoot his age.
I’m watching, JTH! Haven’t seen you in the crowd anywhere. No sightings of the Sprocket Rockets either. But, gee, the Barossa looks great!
I had a feeling you might be there
Great stuff John,
My parents in law live in Victor, I hope to get over there one year for the Willunga Hill Stage
Yes, the Barossa looked fantastic on the coverage IJH. It’s got that classic summer look.
Smoke, I was back and forth from home, but caught the finish pretty well.
The women’s event was rather dramatic.
Rodneey, I recently played golf at Victor (super course) in th wind, with a bloke called…Rodney.
JTH I umpired SACA Country Carnival cricket at Nuri yesterday helicopters were constantly landing on the adjacent oval it certainly added another dimension to a game of cricket!
Our man in the Barossa. The only thing missing was the sound of the media helicopter buzzing overhead.
I disagree with the Amanti Pizza assessment. Way too salty. However, the Soul Growers GSM available at the club (by the glass)…five stars.
Great call re: the Soul Growers GSM, Sheralee
Also rated the Heidenreich ‘Principals’ – enjoyed a lunch there when my brother was down (from Queensland)