VOLUME 2 GAZOO DRIVES

Fleurieu Peninsula, South Australia

As Adelaide emerged from lockdown, photographer/writer couple Sia and Walter took the opportunity hit the road in a cherry red GR Supra and take in the Fleurieu Peninsula.

Words by Walter Marsh
Photography by Sia Duff

4 MIN READ

Stretching down from the outer sprawl of metropolitan Adelaide to the tip of Cape Jervis, the Fleurieu Peninsula is dotted by clusters of holiday shacks and chip shops that spring up wherever the long stretches of seaside cliffs and hilltops give way to beach. Between its two coastlines livestock and native wildlife mill about the valleys of pasture and conservation parks as the southern limits of Kaurna country blur into the lands and waters of the Ngarrindjeri nation.

SETTING OFF

It’s forecast to be a washout in Adelaide, but we set out southbound and hope for the best, Sia refreshing the BOM app in the passenger seat as urban traffic funnels into the Southern Expressway. In past road trips, from the Scottish Highlands and Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way to the forests and coasts of Aotearoa, we’ve usually driven a series of inconspicuous hatchbacks (a trusty Corolla in ‘Positano bronze’ is our current chariot). These battlers valiantly do the job, but hopping into the GR Supra is a different speed, effortlessly sliding up to 100km/h on steep uphill stretches that usually have me glancing at the ‘next service due’ sticker on my windscreen.

“Hopping into the GR Supra is a different speed, effortlessly sliding up to 100km/h on steep uphill stretches.”

Myponga

The hills and paddocks of Myponga are primarily known for two things: an abundance of dairy cows and hosting Black Sabbath’s first Australian performance. Plenty has changed since Ozzie Osbourne’s visit in in 1971, but its sleepy charm remains.

Today its most imposing feature is the 26 billion litre reservoir that provides drinking water to the peninsula, and I can never resist the novelty of driving over the dam wall — even if it’s a slow and careful crawl across narrow concrete. The road to the reservoir lookout usually reveals some neat vistas, but this morning a deep fog rolls over the range — thankfully the GR Supra’s cherry red paint job is easy to spot in the mist.

Valley of Yore

We circle back downhill to visit Valley of Yore, a little cafe that’s recently opened up in the town’s former dairy co-op, joining a brewery and long-running market in the cavernous 90-year-old building. Over an oat flat white its proprietor Nige tells us how he and his wife Holly named their spot as a nod to the flooded township of Lovely Valley that now sits at the bottom of the reservoir.

Next door at the market we rifle through vintage Leonard Cohen records and a mountain of bric a brac as its current custodian Rick tells us how the building’s former owner used the space to restore rusted out old Jaguars to their former glory, making by hand any parts he wasn’t able to source. Back at Valley of Yore, Nige confirms the story — and the oil and resin stains that cling stubbornly to these old floors.

Normanville

We take a right at Forktree Road, and past the beach towns of Carrickalinga and Normanville the hills open up onto one of my favourite stretches of bitumen in the world. Looking out over St Vincent’s Gulf with just a row of pine trees between us and the blue, it’s like the landscape is taking one long exhalation as the road scoops back inland and uphill.

“With just a row of pine trees between us and the blue, it’s like the landscape is taking one long exhalation.”

Second Valley

This sandy swimming beach has a relatively tight footprint, but walking out past the concrete fishing jetty takes you around to two more pebble-strewn coves perfect for snorkelling in the summer months, or watching teenagers dive-bomb off the cliffside. In winter, a trek to the rocky outcropping that separates the two gives a great view of the coastline — and a hit of salty air.

Deep Creek

A quick detour to Deep Creek Conservation Park is a chance to test out the GR Supra on unsealed roads, and it’s smoother than expected. If you have good walking shoes and a few hours to spare it’s worth stepping out for a hike deeper into the park (don’t forget to pre-purchase a park pass or check which roads are 4WD-only beforehand), but stopping short at one of the picnic spots should deliver a glimpse of local kangaroos, and Kangaroo Island up ahead. But drive carefully — at one point we had to pull over after spotting an echidna playing chicken in the traffic.

Watch for echidnas as you wind through Deep Creek

Port Elliott

The twin destinations of Victor Harbor and Port Elliott are perhaps the state’s two biggest daytrip magnets, with a population that swells every weekend and summer. Avoiding the crowds is advisable, but look out for any concentrations of parked cars on the road in and out of town — there might be a whale sighting.

At Port Elliott we grab a coffee from surfy hole-in-the-wall Yeo Haus, snag pasties and scroll from the local bakery, then poke our heads into South Seas Books and Trading, a handsome pair of shops on either side of the road a happy distance from the main drag.

Pastries and local bookseller in Port Elliott

HOME

From there you have a choice to head back to Adelaide via the overland route that takes in Mount Compass and the wine country of McLaren Vale — and risk the logjam of homebound holidayers. But the weather has held out, so we decide to retrace our steps and take in the coastal route by sunset. As I catch a glimpse of waning orange daylight in the red of the side mirror, it’s clearly the correct choice.