It has become a custom for us, that each morning I read Bec the blog entry from the previous day. This is not only so that she knows what we did, but so that she knows what others know we did, should she be talking to them. As I read this morning, I was confused at some of my own prose. Now, I could blame it on the automatic spell check, or on a lack of proof reading, but being in Bundaberg, I shall blame it on the Bundaberg Spirit, otherwise known as ‘Bundy Rum’, one too many of which may have passed my lips during writing last night. So, if you like me, had a bit of trouble deciphering some of my enigmas, I think I’ve rectified them, so you can have another read of the post safe in the knowledge that it should now be legible.

Our first stop having left the van park this morning was at the aptly named ‘Bundaberg Barrel’, the home of Bundabergs own ginger beer and other traditionally brewed soft drinks. Aptly named, as the display and retail complex is shaped like a barrel, laying on its side and semi-buried in the surrounding earth. Being avid drinkers of Bundaberg Ginger Beer, it was fascinating to see from whence it originates.

‘The Beast’ and ‘The Barrel’.

There is a self guided tour available, through a series of galleries, giving the history of ginger beer, the brewing process and the current activities and range put out by the factory. Being the true scrounges we are, we had managed to come across a coupon offering a 20% discount on entry to the display, setting us back $10.00 each instead of the advertised price of $12.50. We were provided with devices that looked similar to a mobile phone, which provided an audio commentary as we progressed through the exhibition.

Bec learns about the brewing process.

As well as the commentary, there was a range of interactive exhibits, ranging from trying to identify certain aromas, to pumping madly at what looked like a bike pump, to create bubbles in a large test tube. It was obviously aimed at a younger generation, but we had a ball, pushing and prodding, tugging and squeezing as we made our way through. At the conclusion, we got a thimble sized taste of each of the 15 or so beverages that are produced here. It was just enough to whet the taste buds and help the companies profit margin for the day, as we procured a couple of slabs of delectably sweet, but entirely natural, and traditionally brewed soft drinks.

Our haul from ‘The Barrel’.

We moved on next to the bastion of the harder stuff, the Bundaberg Rum Distillery. I am taking a tour later, as Bec is not interested. Apparently, having toured the facility some 10 odd years ago, once in a lifetime is enough. Not so for myself. We decided to call in quickly, on our way past, now however, so Bec could take my photo outside the factory.

All hail the Rum God.

Deciding that it was time for Bec to get some much needed practice in piloting ‘The Beast’, I handed her the keys so she could drive us to our next stop. Being fastidious (some would say “anal”) as I am, I dutifully recorded the odometer reading in my logbook.

We then drove to the nearby Schmeiders Cooperage, who now produce all of the barrels for the distillery. There is a small display room, showing a video, on the art of the cooper, as well as a chance to put together your own barrel. I soon lost my patience with that game, as the staves continually caved in on themselves. There is a definite knack to the art, and I just don’t have it. Oh well, I guess you can’t be good at everything.

Next door is a small store and the actual workshop, where you can view the master apprentice working on the small (and not so small) barrels you can purchase. How I would love one of these works of art, but with nowhere to store it, I thought it better left behind.

Back to ‘The Beast’ and planning to head into the center of town, Bec proclaimed that her confidence was lacking to handle the traffic, so I again took over steerage of the ship. My log book now reads: Bec: 1Km.

Nanas Pantry.

Our next stop was at a little store known as Nanas Pantry. It was a strange place, selling an eclectic mixture of dried fruits, nuts, cake mixes, lollies, fresh coffee beans, chocolate, mueslis and our reason for visiting, gelato produced fresh on site. As we drooled enough to leave more than just a trace amount of DNA over the glass screen protecting the iced delights, we decided that just one take home pack would not satisfy us this time. Up to three flavours could be crammed into each ½ litre tub, but we had both already picked out multiple flavours that we wanted to feast upon. So as it turned out, we decided to go it alone, getting a tub each to enjoy for supper, possibly spread out over a few nights, although not necessarily. Each with our own supersized ice-cream, and a few other delights which took our fancy, we had just enough time to do the grocery shopping for this evenings dinner, before cruising back to the van.

I had enough time to help Bec unpack ‘The Beast’ before I started to regret telling Bec that I had chosen this camping ground for its proximity to the distillery. It is proudly decreed on their web site and in all of their advertising brochures that it is within easy walking distance to the distillery, and therefore that is what Bec made me do. Walk. Probably a good idea considering the taste tests provided at the conclusion of the tour, but this was the exact reason I had hoped to give her some time in the drivers seat today. A lift wouldn’t have gone astray.

Hot, dusty and already parched by the time I arrived at the front gate, it was to be another hour before I was holding the bar up and enjoying a frosty glass of rum.

Before that, there was the self discovery tour, which was a self guided tour through the small museum and exhibition of the distilleries history. 125 years of rum distillation, give or take a few, due to a couple of fires that flattened the complex, in 1907 and 1936.

The guided tour took the group through the manufacturing plant, the bottling plant and into one of the bond stores. Spread across the facility are a number of bond stores, holding 300 vats of the delicious spirit. Each vat holds the equivalent of $6 million worth of liquid gold and is stored for a minimum of 2 years. As the guide said: “300 times 6 million, equals a bloody big electric fence.”

Finally, the moment everyone had been waiting for. We were escorted with pomp and ceremony to the onsite bar, where we each received a couple of samples. The choice is yours, from any of the tipples that they have available. I started with a tall glass of ‘Dark and Stormy’, a sweet concoction of original Bundy and the aforementioned ginger beer. Very refreshing, it slip supplely down my arid throat with ease. I changed it up for my second taste. A straight up shot of the top shelf, internationally acclaimed, gold medal winning, $100 a bottle, double barrel, small batch, limited edition rum. Didn’t like it.

Walking out of the gift shop, possibly feeling the effects of the liquor, I searched in vain for ‘The Beast’. My heart was thumping, as I wandered through the nearly vacant car park, unable to see the familiar lines of ‘The Beast’ waiting patiently to transport me back to the van. I was reaching for my phone to call the constabulary, a banshee like wail welling in the nether regions of my gut, bemoaning my extreme misfortune of having ‘The Beast’ stolen, when in a moment of clarity, I remembered that I had walked. The cold sweat I had found myself drenched with, evaporated almost instantly as I realized my stupidity, and I began to trudge back to the van.

I was about 10 minutes into what should have been a 10 minute walk back to the van, when I found myself in unfamiliar surroundings, and realised that I was somewhat misdirected. I wouldn’t say lost as such, because from right there where I found myself standing, I could actually see our caravan. The problem was, I was looking at it through the high chain link fence surrounding the back of the caravan park, with no idea how I was to get back to the front of the park. I called Bec to say I was running a little late. She helpfully came out to laugh at my predicament.

Finally back home, I found that Bec had been busy, churning through another load of laundry, before preparing me a delicious home cooked dinner. I really am a lucky bloke, but shh, don’t tell Bec I said that.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.