Hanging Rock vineyards

Hanging Rock

Hike to the summit for great views over the ancient volcanic landscape. Northeast is Mount William, famed by indigenous people throughout all of eastern Australia for the quality of its flint stones which were traded up and down country. Not a walker? A simple picnic at the rock’s base among the gum trees and watchful kookaburras accompanied by one of the local wines may prove a less strenuous option. Tables are scattered through the parklands next to the famous Hanging Rock racecourse.

Also top-notch is Curly Flat (www.curlyflat.com), whose Chardonnay and Pinot Noir wines continually rank amongst the finest in the country.

Cobaw Ridge (www.cobawridge.com.au) is really off the beaten track. Here Shiraz and Lagrein grapes are kings of the castle. Cobaw Ridge specialises in long lived wines, full of character and finesse.

Zig Zag Road Winery (www.zigzagwines.com.au), for its prize-winning Riesling and Cabernet Sauvignon completes my current shortlist.

Thirty-four wineries are listed as members of the Macedon Ranges Vigneron’s Association. Their website (www.macedonrangeswine.com.au) is a useful tool when discovering this district as many wineries are open to the public by appointment only. A number of boutique guesthouses are listed in addition to other dining options I've not mentioned below.         

West of Mount Macedon is a scattering of small villages and two large towns: Kyneton and Daylesford. Their relative close proximity to Melbourne attracts tree-changers, folks bent on escaping the trials of the big city for a more relaxed back-to-nature country lifestyle. That many end up working harder than they ever did in the city should surprise no one toiling in the hospitality industry. Similarly, running a successful farm or small business in country areas isn’t quite the doddle some naive people may believe.

Drawing in permanent residents and visitors alike is the region’s sophisticated food scene.

See www.northeastvalleys.com.au for more food and wine focused touring information, suggested itineraries and annual local festivals and events.

See www.beechworthonline.com.au www.beechworth.com.au and www.beechworth.com for suggested accommodation, transport information, general facts and history, cycling paths (the Rail Trail from Wangaratta to Bright has a spur line to Beechworth) and other information pertinent to interstate and international travellers.

Naked Drinks:

Pennyweight is my favourite cellar door. One of only two open daily in and around Beechworth. It’s the best by far and rightly nationally famous for its bio-dynamic table and fortified wines.

13 Pennyweight Lane

Tel: +61 (0)3 5728 1747

www.pennyweight.com.au

Indigo Vineyard is owned by Brokenwood of New South Wales. It’s quite a substantial vineyard for this area (46 ha.) and produces high quality wines separate from the larger Brokenwood group. Top picks are the Chardonnay, the Bordeaux red blend (Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and Petit Verdot) and a very good Shiraz, all from the vineyard outside the lovely cellar door. Their Muscat from Rutherglen grapes is very fine as well. Indigo’s cellar door experience is rather structured; a seated tasting experience with a small snack to cleanse the palate between wines. If time is short or the formality of the tasting is too much, ask to sample the wines at the bar instead. Cellar door manager Bridget Hooper is more than pleased to ensure all customers’ needs are met.

1221 Beechworth – Wangaratta Road

Everton Upper

Tel: +61 (0)3 5727 0233

www.indigovineyard.com.au

Amulet Wines is the last of the three that boasts a cellar door open to the general public without appointment. I’ve tried a few Amulet wines over the years. They’re representative of the region’s overall superior standards.

1036 Beechworth – Wangaratta Road

Beechworth/Upper Everton

Tel: +61 (0)3 5727 0420

www.amuletwines.com.au

See www.beechworthvineyards.com.au for up to date opening times for cellar doors and information regarding visits by appointment, maps and further links.

Naked Eats:

Bridge Road Brewery & Pizzeria

Ford St.

Tel: +61 (0)3 5728 2709

www.bridgeroadbrewers.com.au

Cellar Door Wine Store

62 Ford St.

Tel: +61 (0)3 5728 2882

www.cellardoorwinestore.com.au

The Plough Inn

2322 Beechworth – Wangaratta Road

Tarrawingee

Tel: +61 (0)3 5725 1609

www.theploughinn.com.au

Provenance under chef/proprietor Michael Ryan’s guidance continues to impress me like no other restaurant in Beechworth (and most of country Australia for that matter).

Provenance

86 Ford St.

Tel: +61 (0)3 5728 1786

www.theprovenance.com.au

The Ox & Hound Bistro Restaurant

52 Ford St.

Tel: +61 (0)3 5728 2123

www.oxandhound.com.au

Naked Sleeps:

This is the short list and I’ve stayed in all of them.

Barnsley House Historic B & B

5 John St.

Tel: +61 (0)3 5728 1037

www.barnsleyhouse.com.au

Under new owners, Steve and Irene, Barnsley House continues to raise the stakes in superlative accommodation. Like Finches and Freeman on Ford, Barnsley House is a big notch above its competitors.

The Provenance Restaurant also offers excellent accommodation.

See: www.theprovenance.com.au

The Hotel Nicholas has two large rooms for overnight accommodation. Breakfast is a ‘do-it-yourself’ affair comprised of very ordinary elements (two pieces of bread, packaged jam, butter, packaged juice, tea and coffee bags) but the rooms are surprisingly grand and pleasingly priced. Parking is in the street outside the hotel but there wasn’t a problem finding space even on a busy holiday weekend.

Best of all, the hotel operates a terrific restaurant on its upstairs balcony. Run by the Stanley Pub's former chef, she’s a great cook who understands the integrity of using excellent local produce.

The Nicholas is the town’s best place in which to see live music. The downstairs pub dining room converts to an intimate performance space (seating for approximately 80 persons) from 9pm on most weekends and attracts a strong local and interstate following. It’s a wonderful place to catch local talent. Occasionally internationally famous musicians play here; it’s that good!

1A Camp St.

Tel: +61 (0)3 5728 2655

www.hotelnicholas.com.au

The Opera Bar on the concourse level is packed. Other waterside cafes do a roaring trade. Buskers cash in on crowds ready to contribute to amateur shows, acrobats prancing one impromptu stage, didgeridoo players puffing on another. The new wing of the Museum of Contemporary Art is full of admirers or bored hangers-on. Packed ferries wash in and out from their prime-positioned wharves, full of commuters and tourists. Seagulls look fat on chips and meat pie crusts.

Random pedestrians take time to read the Writer’s Walk bronze plaques commemorating national and international writers embedded into Circular Quay’s pavements. Comparatively speaking, not many onlookers read the plaques but a few curious travellers with obvious literary interests enjoy the potted histories nonetheless. These metal mementos are my favourite Quay objects; the similarly embedded bronze dotted lines marking the extent of Circular Quay’s historic shoreline sharing an equal fascination.

Sydney’s dress circle is looking great these days. (It will look better when the disastrous elevated section of the Cahill Expressway is removed and the train line is finally shoved underground but that’s a multi-billion dollar project waiting on a forward thinking government willing to commit to a budgetary decision beyond the next election date.)

Remember Sydney 2000? The Olympics centre of planet universe? Sydney was the epicentre of sport and media attention combined. Juan Antonio Samaranch (former President of the International Olympic Committee, fondly nicknamed by smart-alecky Sydneysiders as ‘One Tomato Sandwich’) famously declared that ‘Syd-erney’ hosted the best Olympics ever. The city was completely and flagrantly abuzz with entertainment and sports-related activity, most of it free. Lanyard wearing volunteers worked the city streets like seasoned tour guides, greeting complete strangers with entreaties of charitable assistance, happy to help whomever whenever. There was an overriding sense that Sydney’s attractions-loaded gravitational pull had finally become globally irresistible.

At the coalface, Sydneysiders exclaimed joy at the surfeit of free parking spaces (me amongst them) in the normally car crowded CBD. Public transport worked better than ever, the cleaner trains actually ran on time. Better still, prime harbour side houses could be rented to visitors at unbelievable prices, even enough to fund a luxury trip to Paris for a month while their owners were keen to avoid the Olympian crowds. Already cashed-up Sydneysiders reaped lucrative rewards.

Those were heady times indeed.

Post Olympics, Sydney tourism slumped. Too many 5-star hotels built for 2000’s rush competed for too few visitors. Tourism Sydney and NSW Tourism PR campaigns were roundly criticised for relying on past glories rather than encouraging newly refreshed repeat business. A lack of imagination on the part of tourism bureaucrats was all too apparent.

Only recently has Sydney begun to emerge from its post-Olympics tourism doldrums.

Fast forward to 2015, an O. Winfrey chat show circus came and went. An E. De Generes chat show circus followed. Different audiences (mostly USA based) expressed renewed interest in visiting old ‘Syder-ney’. More cruise ships than ever are stopping in for a night or two. Most good hotels are registering over 80% capacity while more visitors from China, India and the Middle East have taken up the slack left by Europeans and Americans frightened off by high prices, restricted by their own moribund economies.

Sydney is one of the world’s favourite cities. That fact hasn’t changed. What has changed is an increase in international visitors. Overall numbers are up again.

Apart from taking in the usual suspects: Bridge, Opera House, Circular Quay being the dress circle stars of the show, why not have a look at a few other sides of Sydney unknown to most visitors?

For instance, a short walk south from the Opera House along Macquarie St to Hyde Park takes in some major historical sights: the New South Wales Parliament building, the Australian Mint, the Hyde Park Barracks and the northern entrance to Hyde Park itself with its marvellous Archibald Fountain serving as the bubbly end point to the fig-tree lined walk south to the ANZAC memorial. Statues of Queen Victoria (glowering as usual) and her Prince Consort Albert (attractive as usual) stand at either end of the small Queen’s Square facing the front of renowned convict architect Francis Greenway’s St. James’ Church.

It’s a quintessential downtown Sydney historical promenade. What most visitors overlook as they stroll along Macquarie St is the statue of Matthew Flinders in front of the State Library of NSW (The Mitchell Library). The first two volumes of Flinders’ journal concerning his circumnavigation of Australia in 1802 are housed within. A small statue of Flinders’ faithful and beloved cat, Trim, rests on the outside sill of a stained glass window of the library behind the much larger statue of the great navigator himself.

The plaque under Trim’s statue reads: TO THE MEMORY OF TRIM:

Written by Matthew Flinders in memory of his cat Memorial donated by the North Shore Historical Society

I always pause (paws?) to reflect at this particular point in the brief walk along Sydney’s memory lane. Trim was well loved among Flinders’ crew for his good nature and tenacity.

Here’s a short list of three off-the-beaten-track excursions, all easily managed in a day and readily accessible on public transport:

1)      1) Take a bus across the Harbour Bridge along the lower North Shore to The Spit and hire a kayak. Paddle up Middle Harbour past the Roseville Bridge into Garigal National Park to witness a slice of Australia’s largest city from sea level. If you’re lucky, at the northernmost reaches of Middle Harbour the water will run clear as gin and your only company will be kookaburras flitting in and out of surrounding gum forest while mullets leap from the water around the kayak. The city’s hubbub is completely forgotten. As you paddle over a white sandy bottom, remember what Sydney once was before urbanisation obliterated the landscape and Kuringai people owned the land. Be sure to return the hired kayak before the rental shop closes at 6pm. Also pay attention to the tides. A hard paddle back to The Spit from Garigal National Park takes at least three hours if the tide is running against you.

2)      2) Take the train to Cabramatta, former heroin distribution capital of NSW and now a reformed example of positive multiculturalism in action. The Southeast Asian community here dominates the atmosphere and the lively vibe is infectious. In summer, street vendors sell freshly pressed sugar cane juice served fresh in plastic cups with a squeeze of lime. AUD$2 is the going price. At any time of year, duck or pork sold from various roasting specialists perfume Cabramatta’s laneways while vegetarian fresh rice paper spring rolls pop up in dozens of stalls at about AUD$3 per roll. Vietnamese Pho soup is served in huge bowls for AUD$10, always a bargain. If a better example of urban renewal exists in Australia, please alert the media.

1)     3)  Take the ferry to Kirribilli, five minutes across the Harbour from Circular Quay. Walk to Kirribilli House and Admiralty House along the foreshore besides some fairly non-descript apartment blocks to two of the Harbour’s ultimate chic addresses, both grand residences right on Sydney’s Harbour. The former (Kirribilli House) is the Prime Minister’s residence in Sydney and the latter (Admiralty House) is the Queen of Australia’s residence when she visits Sydney. Entry without prior invitation to either house or their gardens (that’s you visitor!) is prohibited. Loitering at the wrought iron gate entrance to Kirribilli House is also discouraged but it’s a fun exercise tempting existential fate. Ask the security goons whether or not the PM is at home and be prepared to accept ‘No’ as the answer. Retrace your steps to the other (western) side of the Bridge to the fantastical Art Deco amusement park Luna Park, skirting its northern edge while making your way across Blues Point Road to Wendy Whiteley’s private garden at McMahon’s Point overlooking Lavender Bay near Clark Park. Wendy Whiteley (widow of famous deceased artist Brett Whiteley) created this delightfully simple garden essentially out of a public dumping ground. Her daughter Arkie (who died of cancer at a young age) and husband Brett’s ashes are buried in the park. Artists are naturally encouraged to linger, perhaps to draw, perhaps to paint or write. Follow the shoreline to Balls Head past the Waverton bowls club at the shore’s edge along Berrys Bay to the last remaining bit of original bushland on this part of Sydney's Inner Harbour. Follow the track around the headland to search for ancient indigenous rock carvings (a man inside a whale is one of the most interesting) and various middens. Stop to marvel at the view across the water to Darling Harbour. Walk back up Balls Head Road to Bay Road which leads to the Waverton railway station. Board the train back into the city from here, which is less than ten minutes away by train across the Harbour Bridge via North Sydney.

These three easy excursions provide a slice of Sydney life unknown to most visitors while the day trip to Cabramatta in Sydney’s western outskirts offers a glimpse into where the majority of Sydney’s population actually lives.

A house with a harbour view costs on average more than AUD$3,000,000 these days. Only a minority of residents can afford to live on the water. The two waterside day trips pack a lot of pizzazz, no wonder Sydneysiders dream of living in a house on the Harbour.

But beyond the Harbour’s glittering shores, life in the suburbs has become harder, traffic is worse than ever according to complaints uttered by commuters making the daily trek into and out of town on over-crowded, late-running trains, ferries and buses. Roads are jammed from early morning until well after sunset. The lack of public transport funding is contentious as always, a side of Sydney most international and domestic visitors almost never see.

A journalist friend with whom I once worked (at a local newspaper) told me she thought Sydney was a ‘wicked step-sister of a city’ a nice way of saying it was a bitch of a place in which to live if money is short. That fact hasn’t changed. Sydney is very expensive, even when compared to the average daily living expenses incurred in well known money-gobbling cities such as New York, London, Tokyo or Paris.

For travellers trying to get by on less than AUD$200 per day, staying in the worst flea-pit backpacker hostels, eating two simple take-away meals per day and walking everywhere, is possible but not very nice.

A recent acquaintance (originally from New Zealand) calls Sydney ‘Beyond Thunderdome’. Certainly that’s a description which conveys ‘Mad Max’ memories, applicable to Sydney’s public arena appeal.

But as former PM Paul Keating once quipped, ‘If you’re not living in Sydney, you’re just camping out.’

Personally speaking, I like camping out. Having been a resident of Sydney for more than twenty years, I say with hand on heart that it’s not the be-all-to-end-all Australian city but it’s a very nice place to visit.

Tom Neal Tacker visited Sydney as a guest of Swissotel Sydney.

Naked Facts:

Naked Sleeps:

One of Sydney’s better 5-star hotels is the Swissotel. A recent upgrade of its rooms (2014) and public facilities has provided even more good reasons to enjoy its restaurant and bar. An in-house spa is one of the city’s top pampering palaces.

The upper two floors offer access to the executive lounge, free breakfast and evening drinks plus snacks for a moderate surcharge. The rooms from these two levels boast great views either over the lower Harbour to the Heads or west all the way to the Blue Mountains and the upper Harbour. A large outdoor heated pool and well equipped gymnasium add more value.

Service is slick and efficient. It’s a very well run establishment, befitting its Swiss heritage, everything works like... well... clockwork. The location in Market Street near the corner of George Street is unbeatable. All the city’s major CBD attractions are within an easy walk.

See www.swissotel.com for more information.

Another hotel I like is the Fraser Suites apartment hotel. It’s a sleek modern tower kind of hidden away in a quiet block of Kent Street near Town Hall. I’ve stayed here a few times and appreciated the in-room kitchens, very large rooms (separate bedroom and lounge room with kitchenette) which provide plenty of space to claim as a temporary home. Though Fraser Suites doesn’t offer the same range of amenities as a truly full service hotel, it’s still a treat staying there as sometimes I like the independence that self-catering offers.

See www.sydneyfrasershospitality.com

Another old favourite is The Hughenden in Queen St near the corner of Oxford St in tony Woollahra. A home away from home for writers and artists looking for the bolthole that offers the seclusion and home comforts they miss. Recent upgrades to the rooms, bar and restaurant have lifted this once quirky but fun boutique hotel to still quirky but now very reliably upmarket with service to match. Unusual for inner Sydney hotels, it's also pet friendly with several rooms set aside for travelling pets and their minders. With the expanse of Centennial Park directly across the street, what could serve better to provide doggy bliss?

While the in-house restaurant used to be rather hit and miss, since 2014 it's moved up several notches on the good cooking scale. Now I eat dinner there without hesitation.

Breakfasts are cooked to order from an a la carte menu that ticks all the requisite boxes to keep travellers happy until the next meal.

The owners have acquired the old Centennial Park manager's house for private accommodation. A lovingly restored Federation era grand house comprising four spacious bedrooms with ensuite bathrooms, tastefully decorated entertaining areas, a formal dining room and superbly equipped kitchen is set within its own private garden. When the park gates shut at sunset, residents have the whole park to themselves. Security keys allow access 24/7 for paying guests.  The house is available as a complete package; rooms cannot be rented separately. As a private function space, it's unparalleled in this swish neighbourhood. The Hughenden will provide a private chef and well stocked larder as well.

See www.thehughenden.com.au for more information and reservations.

Naked Eats:

During another recent visit I dined very well at Dragoncello, owned and operated by Roy Mcveigh. With a very impressive chef's pedigree, he's cooking what I like to eat: honest, toothsome and healthy. Following the trends set by most leading-edge chefs these days, Mcveigh's menu emphasises locally grown produce much as possible, accompanied by a small but expanding kitchen garden and a cleverly assembled wine list. Dragoncello (tarragon in Italian) is at the quiet end of Cleveland St in Surry Hills near South Dowling St. See www.dragoncello.com.au for bookings.

Over three nights during another recent visit to ‘Beyond Thunderdome’ I dined at Tetsuya’s, Est and Sepia. Tetsuya’s is rightly famous. Since the early 90s ‘Tet’s, (as Tetsuya Wakuda is affectionately known to all persons who’ve crossed his gregariously engaging path) restaurant has evolved into a globally recognised temple of gastronomy. However, in my opinion Tetsuya Wakuda’s cooking these days isn’t nearly as cutting edge as it once was. That’s not a bad thing necessarily (maintaining an excellent standard for so many years is laudable and should be respectfully acknowledged) but during a degustation of more than ten courses, three of them were primarily comprised of very simple sashimi. I like superb quality produce as much as any glutton but those three courses out of ten exhibited a lack of imagination that impaired what should have been a feast of inspiration.

www.tetsuyas.com

The meal I ate at Est was better than Tetsuya’s. Chef/owner Peter Doyle is one of Sydney’s hero chefs, a long-standing favourite of dedicated diners keen on the pursuit of gastronomic prowess who’s been in the hospitality game for decades. He commands great respect from his peers while customers continue to fall in love with his superlative cooking. A dinner at Est is simply sublime. By the way, both Tetsuya’s and Est provide seamless dining experiences. Wine lists are literally works of encyclopaedic art and service is nothing short of flawless.

www.merivale.com/est

That being said, Sepia was the restaurant that knocked off my socks and blew my mind simultaneously.  

Hungry sophisticated travellers will be excited by the whole package at Sepia, one of the city’s most stimulating restaurants. Chef/owner Martin Benn is one of those rare geniuses, whose cooking talents display a level of sophistication that should be encouraged and embraced wholeheartedly by all dedicated gastronomes.

Devouring thirteen courses during a degustation of immense expertise, I admit to being in an element I’d like to call real food heaven for all holy gourmet cynical atheists like me.

While our table was being prepared, we sat in comfy leather lounges at the bar while sipping aperitifs. A Lillet Rose on ice for me, a chilled Floc de Gascogne for my partner in dinner crime.

Gracefully escorted into the slightly dark (sepia tones naturally), rather hushed but not unfriendly dining room, we checked out other diners. Fashion victims out for a big night on the town? Tick. Food bloggers snapping pics of plates while texting friends in HK? Tick. Small groups of family friends dining out at the big end of town? Tick. Date night for couples in the throes of infatuation? Tick.

Another Friday night out in Sydney for people interested in food that may provide conversation in and of itself? Most definitely yes.

To start: freshly shucked Pambula Sydney Rock oysters with lime and sake and a glass of Laurent-Perrier ‘Ultra Brut’ Brut Nature. I’m a total sucker for oysters and Champagne so I fell under the Sepia spell right from the get-go.

But wait there’s more...

Sashimi of Big Eye tuna, steamed Japanese omelette, white soy jelly, dashi onion cream, puffed buckwheat, green apple and nori.

A course that could confound anyone given the surfeit of ingredients but actually it was simplicity personified. The omelette almost melted along side the exquisitely fresh fish while all the other factors just melded into the mix like a magic pudding I never wanted to see end. A matching glass of Umenoyado ‘Gin’ Jinmao-Ginjo sake from Nara was a brilliantly chosen accompaniment.

Following was another sashimi course (Tetsuya’s comparisons are inevitable but Sepia’s two sashimi courses were infinitely better executed) of Bonito, flavours of roasted chicken, umeboshi, upland cress, green tea and nori. This course really rocked.

Crisped chicken skin and raw bonito with sour umeboshi and tannic green tea combined to create an umami driven taste sensation. Paired with an Austrian 2011 Furmint from Wenzel in the Burgenland, by then I had fallen into a state of pure culinary kismet.

A single barely cooked Scampi tail was accompanied with sudachi, parsley root, white miso, nori fried potato and white Linaria flowers. Great to look at, better to eat. Meltingly buttery, slightly sweet scampi was infused by the other salty, bitter flavours, the pretty little flowers adding both piquancy and texture all at once. A 2011 Clos Sainte Magdeleine Marsanne-Clairette-Ugni Blanc-Bourboulenc from Cassis in southern France was another gob-smacking wine match.

A Seared Mandagery Venison, boudin noir, chocolate crumb, macadamia nut yoghurt, blackcurrant and sichimi pepper reads like a bizarre dessert horror story but this incredible treatment of excellent quality venison and surprisingly complementary accompaniments was another perfect dish highlighting outstanding kitchen accomplishment, fully realising an ability to draw a clearly defined line between savoury and sweet without erring on one side or the other. The 2006 Dominio de Alauta Tempranillo from the Ribero del Duero was another example of truly inspired wine/food matching.

The Aged Garrotxa goat cheese, sake and goat milk dumplings, celeriac cream, nashi pear and celery matched with a cider from Suffolk (Aspall ‘Draught’) was yet another revelation. I didn’t think I could eat more protein after the venison but I was happy I did. Those dumplings were a tour-de-force.

The chef threw in a special course of his (becoming famous) Sugar ball with finger lime sorbet encased within. We were offered a special Japanese Yuzu liqueur to accompany that incredibly innovative course. Evidently, Benn worked for over three months to bring the perfectly spherical planet of sweet/sour sorbet freshness to fruition.

A Soft-poached meringue, truffle ice cream, truffle and rosemary honey hazelnut praline with malt second dessert followed. The 2011 Royal Tokaji Wine Company ‘Late Harvest’ Furmint-Harslevelu-Sarga Muscotaly matched that particular indulgence, fascinating to sample two wines (one dry the other sweet) made from the primarily Hungarian grape Furmint in the one meal.

 We had three additional courses to the set ten course menu. The first were the Pambula oysters, the dumplings were second and the third was compliments of the chef, the sugar ball encasing finger lime sorbet.

Do yourselves a flavour favour: dine at Sepia to witness greatness in action.

www.sepiarestaurant.com.au

Naked Tips:

For very general information see www.sydney.com for accommodation tips, public transport information and special events specifically pertaining to Sydney.

For comprehensive NSW state tourism information visit: www.visitnsw.com

Stockholm is no exception of course. Its harbour is one of Europe’s loveliest and the city embraces the surrounding water to maximum benefit. A graceful metropolis and small scale despite the fact it’s Scandinavia’s largest.

Minimising my use of public transport, I decided to walk nearly everywhere in an attempt to see more from the pedestrian's view, usually from one museum or cafe or restaurant to another in an effort to keep warm.

Stockholm’s most important museums are centrally located, all within easy walking distance to one another so running between sights was minimal. I rocked up at each museum glowing, slightly breathless but comfortably thawed.

I’d heard about the Vasa Museum but I wasn’t prepared for such a surprise. It’s magnificent. I happily spent a whole day there fascinated by this great ship that never really went anywhere and was lost to time as the centuries passed. (See www.vasamuseet.se)

The Vasa is the only early 17^th century ship ever to have been fully restored. With over 95% of the original timber still intact with recreated painted decorations looking as they did the day it launched, it’s like viewing living history. Designed by a Dutch master shipwright to act as Swedish king Gustav 2 Adolf’s flagship, the Vasa (the king’s family name) was intended to frighten opponents, in this instance the Poles for domination of the Baltic Sea.

But it was overmanned and over supplied with heavy cannons. The Vasa sank on its maiden voyage in 1628 about 1.2 kilometres (in the middle of Stockholm’s harbour) from where it was launched, an ignominious end to an embarrassingly short career.

After early efforts to salvage the sunken Vasa, within two centuries, the great ship was more or less lost in the depths of memory. Contemporary search methods helped to 'rediscover' the Vasa in the early 1950s. The ship was raised in 1961, its first time above the water line in 333 years.

Restoration took decades of painstaking work. The Vasa Museum opened in 1990. By 2004 a new climate control system was installed throughout the museum to stabilise temperature and humidity to protect the Vasa’s precious integrity.

Seeing the Vasa in its new home is humbling. How can it be otherwise? The beautiful ship can be witnessed as an example of supreme craftsmanship or simply as human folly.

They built something too big and overloaded it. Then it sank. Dozens of people drowned. A vast sum of money was wasted. The Swedish king took a huge hit to his prestige as did the Swedish navy.

Wandering the galleries surrounding the ship, I pondered all these facts but my thoughts were interrupted by two young men also discussing the sad fate of the Vasa. ‘It reminds me of Pirates of the Caribbean,’ said one. ‘Yeah, I can see Johnny Depp on the deck,’ added the other.

A curious fact about humanity: Everyone attempts to create a relative understanding to the extent of their knowledge and experience, in this instance a film series about cartoon pirates to a unique ship whose history is absolutely remarkable.  So I was brought back to the present moment, a harsh reality. Two dunderheads making loud inane comments caused me to remember how something as grandiose and ill-conceived as the Vasa could have been built. Stupid human pride knows no boundaries does it?

This also reminded me why so many people visit somewhere and immediately make comparisons to what they already know, always looking for a link to what is familiar rather than just enjoying the difference for the sake of difference. ‘Those mountains look just like the ones near our place.’ ‘We’ve got the same stuff at home.’ ‘Why did I come all this way just to see what I see from my front window?’ All phrases I’ve overheard time and again. The repetition makes me sad.

Sadness appears inherent in Scandinavian psyche. Is there a more introspective, sensitive and aloof peoples on Earth?

While Swedes are notoriously depressive personality types, they’re also well recognised for letting their hair down when good food and strong drink are involved.

A trick of the travel trade I regularly put to effective use is to dine at a new city’s most innovative and best restaurant soon as possible, the first night in town if available. I did just this in Stockholm at Mathias Dahlgren’s eponymous restaurant in the posh Grand Hotel.

The food was divine of course. Two Michelin stars still occasionally mean something worth noting. Dahlgren’s food delivers cutting-edge Scandinavian cuisine along the lines of Rene Redzepi’s Noma in Copenhagen, if toned down somewhat to satisfy an average Swede’s natural tendency to conservatism. (See www.mathiasdahlgren.com)

Typically for such a respected restaurant, the waiters were excellent and well-informed. What I’ve learned is to ask the most tuned-in waiter where he or she eats on a night off. Invariably I’m supplied with a short list of a city’s most interesting and un-touristy restaurants/diners and an offer to make a booking on the spot for any subsequent nights I wish.

This is how I found Rolf’s Kok (Rolf’s Kitchen) in central Stockholm. Not as fancy or expensive (not by a long shot) as Mathias Dahlgren but the food was just as good, the service just as friendly and I enjoyed the whole experience even more. (See www.rolfskok.se)

My time in Stockholm was running short. I needed to get to Turku in Finland and then Helsinki to catch a flight onwards. I’d manage to walk the old town, Gamla Stan, from end to end without freezing to death. I’d visited the Royal Palace, the Swedish Economics Museum and the National Museum and I’d learned to use the underground metro trains without getting completely lost.

But the Baltic Sea was still icy. I wondered if I could ferry across it to Turku.

Aland:

‘Aland, where’s that?’ I ask. ‘An island between Sweden and Finland,’ I’m told by a Swedish tourism bureaucrat while discussing how I’ll travel between the two countries by boat during late winter. She raises her eyebrows at me as if to say, ‘Don’t you know anything?’

Admittedly, I knew next to nothing about Aland and its tiny capital town, Mariehamn, supposedly named after a Russian empress who liked the place so much her husband named the town after her in celebration of her fondness for its location. Later I discovered that wasn’t true.

What is true is that Aland is actually the name for the archipelago comprising some 6,550 tiny islands (many just rocky dots on a map called ‘skerries’) where over 90% of the 28,300 permanent inhabitants live on Fasta Aland (which means ‘Main Island’) where about 90% of those live in the island’s only sizable town, Mariehamn.

Aland’s name refers to the main island as well as the rest of the archipelago, which is governed by Finland (though it has autonomous status) and where the people speak Swedish.

Confused? I was.

As I learned more about this in-between island called island, I became increasingly interested.

In my opinion, any in-between place which is part of one country but doesn’t share that country’s language and which has gained semi-independence over the years because of demilitarisation and which now belongs essentially to no single country but is governed by its inhabitants in a quasi autonomous state has a lot to like about it.

Aland is close enough to Stockholm’s important harbour, Finland’s mainland and Russian/Prussian historic battles for domination over the Baltic Sea to have been hard fought over. Strategically, Aland is right in the middle of an old war zone. It was affirmed autonomy by the League of Nations in 1921 and effectively demilitarised shortly thereafter.

And I like the repetitive name: Aland (Island) Island. The root of the name Aland comes from Proto-Norse (Ahvaland) and means ‘Land of Water’.

Aland popped up from the shallow Gulf of Bothnia some 10,000 years ago, the blink of an eye geologically speaking. Fasta Aland is the biggest island in the group, granite in its northern reaches and alluvial sedimentary soil in the south where a bit of rich farming is worked on boggy land. The highest point in all of Aland, also on Fasta Aland, is Orrdals Hill which rises up 129 metres. These are low islands that hug the sea’s horizon, ‘Land of Water’ indeed.

Mariehamn is a tidy town inhabited by comfortably well off residents. You know you’re in wintry Scandinavia when you’re surrounded by folk dressed snugly in goose down coats, fashionable boots and fur hats all looking very self-contained and disdainful as they march unsmilingly to business. Gross annual domestic product on Aland averages at about USD$56,000 per capita, so there’s money to be had in these islands.

You need money to live comfortably here. Goods and services on Aland average roughly 20% more expensive than mainland Sweden, which is already one of the world’s most expensive countries for travellers. Aland is a pricy place. No wonder everyone looks so smug.

Incomes are derived from tourism, shipping and retail profits from VAT free alcohol sales. The Viking Line ferry I was aboard, The Isabella, did a roaring trade in duty-free alcohol sales, the primary reason most of its passengers were travelling between Stockholm and Turku. Almost no one disembarked in Mariehamn. The majority of passengers remained on board ship to do their regular tax-free shopping.

Mariehamn was granted its name in 1861 by Tsar Alexander 2 in honour of his Tsarina. I’ve read that Maria Alexandrovna liked the location. I’ve also read that she never visited the place.

At any rate, the town was planned in Russian style with long boulevards and a waterside esplanade linking the two harbours that sideline the isthmus town’s borders. Streets in between follow a rigid grid pattern, perfect for funneling icy winds blowing straight down from the Arctic.

Mariehamn has a small history museum and art gallery that is worth exploring. I spent a couple hours there while idling around town. Admittedly I was the only idler to be seen. Winter is very low season on Aland. The town’s maritime museum is also interesting to gain an understanding of Aland’s quirky political history. The 19^th century preserved sailing barque, 'The Pommern' is nearby and is also worth a look, particularly if you’re a sailor or nautical history buff. (See www.visitaland.com for details on the museums and hotel/restaurant recommendations.)

The town’s hotels looked very dour and resolutely unfriendly. According to the exceptionally helpful tourism bureaucrat I spoke with (desperately seeking advice as I’d made no plans and booked no hotel or restaurant), most of the town’s hotels open in winter were overpriced when Euros were measured against value. ‘So where do you recommend to stay,’ I ask?

‘There’s a place on the other side of the island that I recommend,’ she replied.

‘How do I get there?’

‘You go by taxi, there’s one still operating today, I’ll call him for you.’

Within fifteen minutes my bag is in the back seat and I’m driving through spruce forest, around ice cloaked lakes and picturesque little farms.

The driver says, ‘We have to watch for moose, but I don’t get many calls to go there in winter,’ he says, indicating how remote the other side of the island is and how rarely he ventures there. ‘They wander out of the forest at this time of year looking for food.’

I’m surprised moose live on Aland; it’s a long way from the mainland after all. ‘They walked here across the ice,’ he adds just as I was about to ask how moose came to be living on Aland.

I like this taxi driver. He’s friendly and exchanges information about his island home willingly.

‘The hotel you’re going to is supposed to be nice.’

‘You don’t know it,’ I ask?

‘I’ve never stayed there but people seem to like it.’

My one night on Aland takes a turn for the better. I’m not staying in austere and unfriendly appearing Mariehamn. Instead I’m on an adventure and staying at the only hotel on the far-flung northern side of the island thirty-seven kilometres from downtown Mariehamn.

As it happened, I’m glad I did. The Havs Vidden hotel occupies its own little peninsula overlooking the Bothnian Gulf. It’s small, exclusive and surprisingly connected to the whole world considering what I’d been led to believe by the taxi driver and Mariehamn tourist bureaucrats. I was half expecting to sleep in an igloo decked out with furs. Instead the hotel is all Scandinavian Contemporary design, lots of polished wood, fine fittings and simple style. (See www.havsvidden.com)

The Japanese and Scandinavians have a lot in common regards hotel room design. Form follows function is the rule. Authenticity is the modus operandi. Nothing is out of place or superfluous or sharp. Colour comes from outside, from the woods, water and sky. My room is wooden beige and I like the way it forces me to look out rather than in.

The Scandinavians have an ingrained affinity with nature. Their art and music is connected to it. To listen to a Sibelius symphony is to listen to the sounds of nature, birds whistling overhead, tree boughs cracking with ice, waves lapping against shoreline. You hear the picture.

My room is a cabin set in a patch of forest overlooking ice, snow and water. I’m all alone and I see no moose.

In this location, where nothing else is around, I’m lucky the hotel chef's cooking is delicious. I’m seated at my table by a lovely waitress who calls me by name. Offered an aperitif, subsequently told I’m to be served a three-course dinner. She sets the printed menu before me and asks if I can eat everything. ‘I think so, I’m hungry,’ I reply. ‘No, I mean have you allergies,’ she asks? ‘Only to bad food,’ which is my standard reply and one she understands.

I drank most of a bottle of Rioja while trying to enjoy my dinner in relative peace. (The owners are in residence, taking their dinner at a table near mine. They have a child who screams during most of the evening. The father cuddles the child but no one has the sense to remove it from the dining room so other guests can eat in peace.) After dinner I nursed a brandy in the lobby area near an open fire to contemplate life, liberty and the pursuit of demilitarisation far away from the loud spoiled child who should have been served a bowl of pasta in the kitchen out of earshot. Fortunately, the child’s shrieking didn’t negatively influence how I ultimately felt about the hotel.

Earlier I’d had a swim in the hotel’s indoor pool located in a spacious heated room with floor to ceiling windows  overlooking the sea. I then sat in the sauna alone for a while, had a cold shower, dressed quickly and ran back across the snow and ice to my cabin and dressed for dinner. I slid-slipped across glistening ice covered wooden pathways to the candlelit dining room in the main building which serves as bar, reception and dining room, where I ate well, wrote notes and read my book.

This was one of those nights when I felt all had gone my way, despite one screaming kid. I’d spent my inheritance on the taxi to nowhere and on one night at the hotel on the edge of beyond just to feel truly far and away on Island Island Aland. I couldn’t have been happier, though the taxi fare back to Mariehamn the next morning was a reality shock.

Turku:

Following the one night on otherworldly Aland, by mid-afternoon I boarded another hardy Viking Line ice-breaking ferry to continue the passage across the lower Gulf of Bothnia to Turku, Finland’s old port, its former window on the world.

Previous visits to Finland prepared me for Finnish strangeness. For instance, Finns drink more milk per capita than any other nation, a curious fact. I’ve yet to discover why this is so. Finns love nothing more than to conduct business while slow roasting themselves nude in tiny wooden saunas. This I understand. Finland in winter is bleak and frigid. To sit naked in a hot box on a frigid winter’s day or night feels good. Finns are notorious for their truly ironic senses of humour. (What’s a Finnish joke? I don’t know, what’s a joke? Get it?) The language is of Finno-Ugraic origin, akin to Basque and Hungarian and therefore incomprehensible to linguistically challenged Romance Language speakers like me.

Finnish history is one of stalwart resistance to larger powers determined to put them out of existence i.e. Russia and Sweden. I admire the fact that Finland has survived intact past the 20^th century. Finnish diplomacy has always metaphorically walked a tightrope of manipulation, acquiescence and courage under fire.

Finns make the Swedes look almost affable by comparison. Getting a Finn to crack a smile either requires a lot of booze or an innate comic ability akin to evincing a laugh at a North Korean Security Council meeting. Alcohol sold in Finland is horrendously expensive (when not bought VAT free in Aland) so coercing an unprompted laugh from a Finn can be a pricy undertaking.

Perhaps I’m being unfair. Many Finns I’ve met are warm souls keen to interact with strangers. Maybe I’m passing on stereotyped impressions?

I stayed at the Park Hotel in Turku, a small-sized boutique hotel near the old cathedral and central to the old city centre. I liked the Park Hotel. (See www.parkhotelturku.fi) My room was small but cozy. I felt welcomed by all the hotel employees as an esteemed guest and not as a tax invoice.

Run by a local family, the mistress of the house gave me invaluable advice on where to dine during my one night in Turku, which is how I found the Rocca restaurant and where I enjoyed as fine a dinner as I had at vastly more expensive restaurants in Stockholm and Oslo. (See www.rocca.fi)

I really came to Turku to visit the Sibelius Museum. The great composer Jean Sibelius never lived in Turku (you can visit his home ‘Ainola’ outside Helsinki) but he did have a profound affect on the Turku Music Conservatorium which was instrumental in setting up the museum to the Finnish musical hero. (See www.abo.fi/fak/hf/musik/eng/museum/valkommen)

My visit to the Sibelius Museum was wonderful. I paid my 3 Euro entrance fee and chatted amiably to the young man who was running the reception desk. ‘You’re the only visitor,’ he informed me. ‘Do you want to hear anything in particular?’

‘What do you mean,’ I asked?

‘I can play on the loudspeaker system whatever you want to hear.’

Being the only visitor has its privileges obviously.

‘Okay, how about some of his more obscure violin pieces?’

‘Sure, I’ll put some on now,’ which is how it came to pass that I enjoyed the unique pleasure of having the Sibelius Museum all to myself while I wandered its galleries and displays filled with the master composer's instruments and copies of his scores all the while accompanied by a personalised soundtrack.

The greatest cathedral in all Finland is only 150 metres walk from the Sibelius Museum. For an hour, I sat alone in a back pew watching the late winter’s light play shadow tricks on stained glass windows while humming Sibelius tunes to myself.

Later that same day I caught a fast train to Helsinki then a bus connection to its airport, allowing plenty of time for rumination on how travelling in Scandinavia during late winter is rather a lovely thing to do.

Tom Neal Tacker visited Stockholm with assistance from Stockholm’s Tourist Authority.

Naked Routes:

The Viking Line ferries travel daily throughout the year (weather conditions permitting) between Stockholm and Turku with stops at Mariehamn. The trip takes approximately 12 hours, can be broken in half with an overnight stay in Mariehamn and is very scenic. The ship passes through Stockholm’s inner archipelago, its small forested islands sporting the favoured summer homes of the city’s elite. See www.vikingline.com

Naked Sleeps:

Stockholm’s First Hotel Amaranten is a centrally located modern hotel with about as much style as a Greyhound Bus Terminus. My key card opened a room that was already occupied. Open bags were on the bed and a make-up case was in the bathroom. Luckily the guest was not. Back at reception, I handed over the key card and said, ‘You’ve assigned me an occupied room.’ ‘No I haven’t,’ was the curt reply. The receptionist offered no immediate apology and tried to blame me for entering a room that was not mine. Alarmed at the obvious security risk the mistake clearly posed I repeated, ‘You’ve given me a room with someone already in it!’ She checked her computer records and said, ‘You’re correct. I’ll give you another room.’ Still no apology was offered. ‘I’ll upgrade you to another room.’ When I opened the door to the new room it was the same standard size and look as the one I’d be given before which was already occupied. I decided not to pursue the matter further. Sometimes it’s useless to fight a battle that’s already been lost. See www.firsthotels.com

Naked Tips:

Local resident adventure specialist Tomas Bergenfeldt runs a company aptly called Stockholm Adventures specialising in hiking, cycling and kayaking tours around Stockholm’s richly forested hinterland and idyllic inner archipelago. Had I visited Stockholm in spring, summer or autumn instead of winter, I would gladly have spent a couple days seeing Stockholm’s natural wonders from a bicycle or kayak seat as well as on foot. See www.stockholmadventures.com

For more information about Stockholm’s many attractions, museums, special exhibitions, concerts, public transport and tickets, see www.visitstockholm.com

For more information about what to do and see in Turku, see www.visitturku.fi

Tiny Onancock, (Pronounced ‘Oh-NAN-cock’. Don’t make the same mistake I did when stopping in a cafe to ask for directions to ‘ON-An-Cock’. I was politely corrected despite being given a harsh look) is Eastern Shore Virginia’s loveliest town. Blessed with a quiet and secluded harbour, two intersecting main streets lined with a small yet interesting assortment of shops, boasting two good restaurants (Bezzotto’s and The Charlotte Hotel restaurant) and graced with lovingly restored Victorian houses, here is where the description ‘quiet backwater’ can be best applied.

Chesapeake charm, too far from the big cities to attract day-tripping crowds and holiday house owners. There’s a strong sense of community here, largely due to this part of Virginia often being ignored by state legislators across the big Bay and far away in Richmond. [caption id="attachment_2648" align="alignnone" width="404"] Onancock harbour authority building[/caption]

At the end of the road at the great bay’s final exit into the Atlantic sits Cape Charles. One of the region’s most historic towns, where history is as common as crab cakes, this is indeed something to boast about. Cape Charles is an excellent place to hang back and relax in the sweetly somnolent atmosphere. It has one of the most extensive arrays of Victorian architecture on the East Coast and is mostly overlooked by the crowds rushing up and down the interstate highways over the Bay to the west.

In fact, Cape Charles is a good place to watch the sun set over the water, an unusual claim to make on the eastern seaboard of the USA if you're not on Florida's Gulf Coast.The Cape Charles Museum and Welcome Center is inviting and useful to gain further insight into the origin of the town. When I ask a center volunteer about Cape Charles’ architectural heritage she hands me a map and tells me to  'Wander around a while and soak in the feel of the town. We’re not like any other place in Virginia. We’re special, kind of remote and most people who find us really want to be here.'

The nearby Virginia National Wildlife Refuge is another jewel in the Chesapeake crown for birdwatchers and wildlife enthusiasts, as is the Kiptopeke State Park, well known for its population of hawks and waterfowl.

Perhaps Cape Charles is an appropriate town in which to contemplate why Chesapeake Bay exists as it does today. Unlike other drowned river valleys scattered about the globe that make up the world’s great bays, Chesapeake was formed by a cataclysmic event that occurred approximately 35.5 million years ago during the Eocene Epoch. A bolide, (meaning large asteroid or comet), more than a mile wide plunged into the water just off Cape Charles. Travelling at a speed estimated to be 113,000 kilometres per hour, it obliterated all life on the east coast of America at the time. Billions of tonnes of ocean water were propelled upwards and vaporised. Millions of tonnes of rocks and debris were ejected into the atmosphere. The impact crater plunged hundreds of feet below the earth’s surface and remained hidden until scientists discovered it in 1983 when studying satellite images.

Fossil remains have been subjects of fascination since Chesapeake Bay was discovered by Europeans over four hundred years ago. The Algonquin tribes that occupied the region for millennium must have been equally intrigued by the number of prehistoric creatures embedded in calcified rocks sticking out of the Bay’s many cliffs and ledges.

Chesapeake Bay has had a powerful impact on America, not because it was formed by one of the greatest explosions ever recorded in the history of the Earth, but also because it witnessed the birth of a nation, fed its earliest inhabitants, created untold riches for innumerable families and provided homes to countless species of fish, waterfowl and other animals. The Algonquin people got the name right; it is simply the ‘Greatest Water’.

Naked Facts:

Naked Sleeps:

The Inn at Onancock is an absolute delight. Owner operated, immaculately clean, well-appointed and to-die-for breakfasts make this small guesthouse the best place to stay in the whole lower Delmarva Peninsula. The drinks and canapes served each evening provide guests an excellent opportunity to exchange travel tips. The owners are always on hand, offering advice and suggestions about the region. They're a wealth of local knowledge. See www.innatonancock.com [caption id="attachment_2641" align="alignnone" width="209"] Typical guestroom at Inn at Onancock[/caption]

Naked Tips:

For more information about Cape Charles and Onancock see www.capecharles.org or www.onancock.org