Pub Review: The Birkenhead Tavern, Port Adelaide

 

It sits alone.

 

At once alluring but also brazen like a Bond villain. Under twilight it could be in a Hitchcock movie, dominating the landscape as the Bates Motel does its Californian corner. Although if painted in pastel yellow and pink the façade’s symmetry might be reminiscent of a Wes Anderson film, provided Bill Murray was in laconic shot.

 

The cinematic concept of mis en scene describes the artistic arrangement of the background, props, lighting etc on a film set, and is relevant here. Making a westward crossing of the eponymous bridge there’s no adjacent buildings, and the dusty car park surrounds it like a dry moat. I’m immediately struck by the frontier psychology at play.

 

Architecturally, the context is that the only pub on the Port River, the Birkenhead Tavern, is itself utterly decontextualized.

 

It’s a remarkable site (and sight).

 

In the Riverview bar I’m agog at the water and blue light. The panoramic sweep includes the river, red lighthouse, Dolphin Explorer cruising ferry (unfortunately not captained by Flipper), and idle sheds and docks.

 

A fierce southerly rushes the river past at a decent clip. Occasionally, king tides flood the pub forcing it to stand amid the lapping waves like a rebellious Atlantis.

 

On this, my biennial visit, I’m at a table in the racing corner, but looking out. The bar’s busy with burly high-vis chaps and retirees and burly high-vis retiree chaps. It’s Happy Hour and I order a Pale Ale ($5.50).

 

Suddenly, there’s scattered outbursts as a roughie gets up in the last at Queanbeyan. A wizened, skinny bloke barks, “It’s won at $97!” This spurs further eruptions, but these are only monologues from embittered punters. There’s no conversation, just forlorn observation.

 

“I can’t bloody believe it,” a bearded fellow accuses his West End Draught stubby.

 

“You’re joking,” murmurs another to an inattentive divinity.

 

Pubs can be solitary spaces, especially for the fiscally anguished.

 

 

In the Port’s narrative this boozer has been a compelling character, since the days when it was a local for workers who caught the ferry across the river after work, and also when the upstairs light was flicked on and off signalling that the constabulary should slip in the darkened door for their nocturnal beer.

 

Publicans and wallopers have long shared murky relationships, as at least locally, policing the Port and guarding against illegal trading is traditionally thirsty work. Beyond an arresting location and a clutch of exotic punters what does the Birkenhead Tavern offer?

 

A poster tells me there’s live music with an endless line of Sunday strummers, many of whom, of course, are called Josh. On the front lawns eager anglers can seduce bream and mulloway but there’s no outdoor sink at the pub to gut your catch.

 

Meanwhile the pub’s website features multiple photos of Port Power footballers but as these are without a caption, I’m unsure if they’re on the menu with chips, coleslaw and complimentary garlic bread, or that you might simply enjoy one with some fava beans and a nice chianti.

 

Unsurprisingly, the cuisine is described as pub, and I also note steak and ale pie on the special’s (sic) board, reminding me of when our newlywedded friends Brett and Trish were in Dublin, and Steak and Guinness pie was on offer. Ever polite, Brett asked the bar staff, “So, what’s in the Steak and Guinness pie?”

 

The young Irish fellow gazed at, and perhaps beyond Brett, and tonelessly mumbled, “Steak,” and blinking once, added, “Guinness.”

 

About Mickey Randall

Late afternoon beer, Exile on Main St playing. Sport like cricket, most types of football, golf, squash, horse racing. Travel, with Vancouver my favourite city, but there’s nowhere I’ve not happily been. Except Luton. Reading. Writing about family, sport, music, the stuff that amuses me. Conversation. Wit. Irony. McLaren Vale cabernet sauvignon, Barossa shiraz, Coopers Sparkling Ale. Jazz and especially Miles Davis. Lots and lots of music. I live in Adelaide with my wife Kerry-ann and our boys Alex and Max.

Comments

  1. Excellent as always Mickey you captured the pub superbly and yes the car park spot on

  2. Thanks Malcolm.

    At this time of year I spend a few weeks working at the uni campus at Mawson Lakes about 45 minutes commute. The best route home is through the Port so late in the week I pause briefly at one of the grand waterside pubs. There are some magnificent boozers although I was saddened to note that the baddest of the all, The Colac aka the Bloodhouse, had been bulldozed.

    A mate is urging me to visit the Lord Exmouth in Semaphore, aka The Monkey House. I’m intrigued.

  3. Peter Crossing says:

    What a rich pathway you do tread.

  4. Have you thought of adopting the Rotten Tomatoes system – red for go/green for avoid? You seem to have an “its so bad its good” regard for the Birkinhead.
    How gentrified is the Port these days? Is the Torrens Island Power Station still there? I see Port Augusta’s smoke stacks imploded on the weekend. Has SA gone completely solar or are you using kero lights now?
    Back in the 70’s when the Quarantine Station was still on Torrens Island, the annual Health Department Xmas Picnic/Cricket Match was played there. Over the bridge next to the Birkinhead and up the (not so) Grand Trunkway.

  5. I do enjoy a peripatetic lifestyle Peter C.

    The gentrification of the Port is a slow process. It’s not yet the Freo of Adelaide. A number of Treasury jobs are to be relocated down there which can only help but provided they do more than turn up to work at the Port. Thanks Peter.

  6. Luke Reynolds says:

    Brilliant Mickey. Though I do worry about you venturing so far from Glenelg into enemy territory.

  7. Thanks Luke. Like most port suburbs it’s interesting and vivid.
    As I’m still working out that way I have a few visitations remaining providing my visa is somehow valid and I’m welcome.

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