In the last blog, I mentioned that we hadn't intended to take a wine tour while we were in the Margaret River area. For a start, we had been on one in Blenheim in New Zealand, so there was an element of 'been there, done that'. In addition, the cost of $75-80 each seemed remarkably poor value given that all we would get for our money was transport plus sips of wine totalling around a single bottle at most.

Fate, however, intervened in the form of a half-heard advert on local radio as we were driving between Yallingup and the town of Margaret River. The ad for a tour called "Cravings" seemed to promise six tastings and a gourmet lunch for the pair of us, as well as six bottles of wine to take away - all for a grand total of $79. It sounded almost too good to be true, so despite our previous decision we decided to check it out at the information centre.

We couldn't see any brochures in the normal racks and I was beginning to wonder if I had misheard - perhaps it was $179? I decided to ask at the desk, however, and after much huffing and puffing, and searching round the back, the woman returned with the relevant details. And yes, it was just as I had remembered. The only catch was that one of us would have to drive because transport wasn't included…

Now I know what you're all thinking - "poor Richard having to drive so no wine tasting for him". After all, when was the last time anything kept Katy away from a free drink? (The answer is 1992, by the way.) Well I have to tell you that something amazing happened…

Katy volunteered to drive!!! From now on this occasion will be dubbed 'The Miracle of Margaret River' and the date of 1st November will be celebrated everywhere. By me at least.

We set off the next morning, but first we headed for some sights along the way. Katy had read about some beaches noted for their surfing so even though neither of us are exactly keen on the sport we decided to have a look at the locals showing off their talents.

The only problem was that the first couple of bays we scouted out were basically deserted. Wondering where everyone was, given that it was a Sunday and Aussies are meant to be mad keen on sport, we drove on to the more hopefully named Surfers Point. As we approached, we noticed that the car park was so full that many cars were being left in the road. We managed to wriggle into a spot and wandered to the beach to find that we had stumbled upon the annual Margaret River surfing competition.

(This type of good fortune is known to us as a 'Goldie Moment', by the way. This is a personal reference to another couple whose blog we used to read avidly. As they travelled the world, the Goldies had the happy knack of coming across unusual events, or sightings of rare animals. On occasion, it seemed that the weather gods themselves would intervene and grant a small break in the clouds for the sun to shine through and illuminate a perfect view, just for them.)

Not knowing how surfing competitions work, we headed to the viewing area and bumped into a couple we had seen at the camp the previous evening. They were both surfers and explained the rules and the sort of skill that the judges were looking for. Slightly less baffled than before, we watched a couple of rounds before we realised that time was pressing and we needed to get started on the wine.

The first of our six designated wineries was Wills Domain. The location was stunning, with the tasting room cum restaurant looking out over gentle hills covered in rows of vines. It was meant to be one of the best of the vineyards as well, with a string of awards to its name. With Katy basically out of the tasting because she refuses to have even a single drink if she's driving, it was down to me to do all the appreciation. (A hard task, I know, but somebody had to do it!)

To be honest, I wasn't hugely impressed with the wines on offer apart from the last one. Of course, that turned out to be the most expensive at $45 and therefore off limits so I picked out a shiraz, had our card stamped and we headed off.

The second winery, Barwick, looked rather rural by comparison, with hens scratching around the buildings and a peacock strutting around the car park. The lady who handled the tasting was extremely friendly, however, and the wine seemed better suited to my taste. Or perhaps I was just getting warmed up?

The best of the wines was again over our limit, but at $30 I decided to make up the extra $5 for a bottle of vignonier - though it was a tough call with the pinot noir. We also decided to buy a couple of bin ends from the winery's cheap range called Crush because it was "very drinkable", as I think they say in the trade.

Food was called for next as I was beginning to feel the effects of my heroic solo tastings, so we headed for the Olive Soap Factory, which offers samples to eat of olives, tapenades, sauces etc as well as skin care products. We tucked into quite a few of their offerings, several of which were excellent, though felt a little guilty as we left without buying anything.

Our stomachs were far from full, however, so our next port of call was the Knotting Hill winery for something more substantial. The included "gourmet lunch for two" turned out to be just that. We were presented with a large platter covered in local cheeses, ham, speciality breads and crackers, olives, nuts and so on. Both filling and tasty, we couldn't have complained if we had paid the advertised charge of $40.

I tasted the wines afterwards and perhaps the food had taken the edge off my taste buds because nothing really stood out. This was the only location where there was no choice about the free bottle, even though most were under the $25 limit, but what we were given was perfectly ok.

Katy, by the way, was keeping herself involved with just the occasional sip of the best of the wines. She was also keenly interested in the procedure for stamping our tour card. Each winery had a tool a little like a hole punch, but each had a unique shape rather than a standard circle. These ranged from Christmas trees to leaves to a dog's bone. I suppose that when everyone else (i.e. me) is guzzling away, any form of amusement is better than none, poor girl.

We realised that we were running short of time so rather rushed the final half of the tour. Sandalford proved unexceptional, though Willespie's wines were much more interesting. Their vines were older and watered less, and the wine therefore tended to need aging longer before drinking, even the whites. They also made very good ports of both colours. I could have selected a couple here though contented myself with a merlot.

Last of the day was the Palandri winery, from where I chose a nice chardonnay which only needed light chilling. Palandri would be a good place for anyone looking for a bargain, because they had some really good offers on cases.

Feeling suitably happy we headed back to Margaret River - or Maggie as it is known to the locals - for a much needed cup of tea. We agreed that the Cravings tour was remarkable value, even though one person needs to do the driving. If we had thought it through more in advance, we would have spread it over two or more days, which is perfectly ok to do. That way, the designated driver could participate without ever endangering the drink-drive limit.

One thing that some people don't seem to appreciate about touring Australia is the vast distances and the consequent hours spent driving. We came across one such couple at our campsite. They had hired a Jucy camper in Cairns and travelled to Perth (via Darwin) in 15 days. Even if they made minimal detours, that's a total of 7,500 km, or 500 km a day. After Perth, they were heading for Sydney, more than 4,000 km away, which they had to reach in 10 days. At least that would bring their average down a little. We wondered what on earth would actually see or do on their trip, given that they were spending an average of five hours a day behind the wheel!

Our original plan called for us to leave Maggie the next morning and drive down to Augusta for a couple of days. In juxtaposition to the Jucy couple, we have only recently become aware how close things are to each other in this more densely populated corner of the country. Looking at the map again, we decided that we could take in Augusta and the surrounding area in a day trip. There were three advantages to this. First, we could stay in Margaret River, which is a very pleasant little town. Second, we wouldn't have the chore of taking down and then re-erecting the tent. Third, and most important, I could start to make plans for Tuesday's Melbourne Cup!

Not to get ahead of myself, the drive to Augusta was through more lush countryside highlighted by vineyards and cattle farms. The town itself was pleasant enough without being anything special so we drove through to the lighthouse at Cape Leeuwin. This is apparently the place where the Indian and Southern oceans meet.

It might be a hugely impressive sight or perhaps a grave disappointment, but we will never know. On arrival, we discovered that a lighthouse tour was $14 (no chance) and even admittance to the grounds, from where you could at least view the scenery and the junction of the seas, was $5 (you have to be kidding). We took a few photos of the white-flecked blue waters of the Indian Ocean and some others of the slightly more frothy, but still blue, Southern Ocean and left.

The only other place of note on our day out was Hamelin Bay. This was a long curve of white sand fringing the by-now familiar turquoise waters. We've seen quite a few of these in the past few weeks, but this one was particularly nice. The bay used to be an important location for the logging industry, with ship after ship calling to pick up cargoes of karri or jarah trees. That heyday was long ago, however, and all that remained were a few stumps from the jetty that once protruded proudly into the ocean.

When we applied for our visas to Australia, the authorities wanted to know where we planned to go and what we intended to do. We therefore constructed a fairly detailed itinerary plotting our route anti-clockwise around the country. In that schedule, the only really fixed time and place was to be in Melbourne on the first Tuesday in November, the traditional date of "the race that stops a nation", the Melbourne Cup. As you have probably worked out by now, we're just a little behind schedule. Ok, about a month.

There was no way I was missing the race, however, as it had a massive billing to live up to. We found out that the liveliest-looking bar in town (called Settlers) was also the home of the local TAB (aka the tote, or bookies) and on asking at the bar the previous day, were told that the place would be packed out by 11am, so get there earlier if we wanted a table.

"Oh dear," we thought. "Here we are being forced to enter an establishment and drink alcoholic beverages before noon for the third time in five days. How awful for us!"

On reflection, we could have turned up an hour or so later and still found a table, but we weren't to know that at the time. So we sat down with our Little Creatures Sparkling Ale and the equivalent of the Racing Post at about 10.15 in the morning and prepared to do battle with the forces of darkness, aka the TAB.

As we sat there, up wandered the couple we had seen watching the surfing competition a few days before. They joined us, bets were placed and drinks were downed. The pub filled up, first slowly then with a rush in the last 40 minutes or so before the big race. This might have been because the Cup was run at noon local time - Western Australia being three hours behind Victoria. For some reason, quite a few girls took the opportunity to put on their race-day finery - hats and all - even though the horses were a few thousand kilometres away and they were just hanging around in a bar.

Given the general ambience, Katy was quite confident about the chances of a horse called Alcopop but the pair of us were both disappointed. Alcopop's fizz ran out before the end of the race and he finished about sixth, which was more than can be said for my choice, Allez Wonder, which finished further behind. The winner was Shocking, which although not an outsider can't have been backed by that many people in the pub because there was relative quiet as it went past the post.

Chris and Amanda (the surfers) were among the relative few, but because they had some losing bets as well they ended up about level rather than in profit. We discovered that Chris was a chef and that he had caught some marron - like freshwater crayfish - while bushcamping the previous day. The four of us decided to pool our resources - their marron and culinary expertise and our decent wine - and make an evening of it back at the camp. Chris proved to be well up to the challenge and came up with an excellent marron bisque and we polished off the vignonier and the chardonnay from the tour.

After the past few days, however, I'm on the wagon for a while. I think my liver needs a rest!

Richard