We woke up at the beautiful Colhurst House in Mount Gambier, even before the sun had risen. I’m spoiled most mornings because Peter brings me a cup of chai, but this morning felt even more special. I had slipped outside, climbing up to the top railing to catch the very first light of day.

The air was crisp, the world still wrapped in quiet, when Peter joined me. He sat beside me and, with that familiar kindness, placed a hot mug of chai in my hands. There I sat, steam curling up from my cup, warming my fingers, watching the first rays stretch across the sky. It felt like our way of saying: Good morning, South Australia! — our very first morning in this new state on this journey.

Staying at this magnificent, old-world charmer is an experience all on its own. Colhurst House, with its elegant presence, was originally named Llandovery in honour of its first owner, Mr. Thomas Williams, who was born in Wales. Built in 1878, the home carries more than just walls and windows — it carries stories.

I adore researching history, and since our stay began, Mr. Thomas Williams has intrigued me. The more I discovered, the more my admiration grew. His obituary perhaps says it best: “He was one of the kindest-hearted and most influential in his district… His counsel and help will be missed by many, and we doubt if we could name another in the district who will go to the grave leaving more general regret and the odour of a better name than Mr. Thomas Williams… He leaves behind him a widow and six children.”

Today, the phrasing might make us smile — an “odour of a better name” is not quite how we would express it now — but what a legacy he left behind. Kindest-hearted. Those are words that impress me more than any title, wealth, or grand success ever could.

As I sipped my chai in the morning light, the words written about Mr. Thomas Williams made me think of my own grandfather. His obituary echoed a similar sentiment, describing a man remembered most of all for his kind-heartedness. That kindness wasn’t only spoken of — it was lived. Inspired by compassion, he founded a home for the homeless in Helsinki, Finland, an outreach that continues its work to this very day.

A few years ago, we discovered his diaries, delicate pages filled with his heart and his prayers. Among them were words that still stop me in my tracks: “I pray that my sons, and their children, and their children, and their children will receive a compassionate and a forgiving heart.”

Those words span across generations — from him, to my father, to me, and now to my own children and grandchildren. Every time I read them, my eyes fill with tears. What greater legacy can there be than a prayer for compassion and forgiveness to carry forward through the lives of those you love?

Later that morning, as Peter sat at the piano in the dining room and the whole house filled with music, I thought about how life, in its truest beauty, is found in simple things: kindness, legacy, love, and moments shared. And here we were, wrapped in all of it, sipping chai in the sunrise and letting the notes of music drift through the halls of history.

Colhurst House is so wonderfully located that it’s easy to wander on foot wherever the curiosity leads. Quaint cafés beckoned us in for breakfast, the farmers market bustled with colour and chatter, and nearby churches and gardens offered quiet places to sit. Everything seemed close at hand, as if the house itself were the heart of Mount Gambier, pulsing outwards into streets full of life.

When it was time to leave, we did so with a touch of reluctance, wishing we had booked a longer stay. There was something about Colhurst House — its charm, its history, its warmth — that found its way into our hearts. As we closed the grand door behind us, we carried with us not just our bags, but the memory of its gracious halls, and the sunrise chai that began our South Australian journey.

Our exploring soon led us to the very heart of Mount Gambier, where the most peculiar garden awaits.

It is called the Cave Gardens.

What was once a limestone sinkhole has been transformed into a semi-underground oasis.

We made our way down into the depths.

The path led us to viewing platforms that seemed to float above the garden.

From there, we looked across lush greenery spilling into the sinkhole.

Ferns, flowers, and vines softened the stone walls.

Light streamed down from above, giving the whole place an almost secret, hidden-world feeling.

It was both unexpected and enchanting.

Afterwards, we chose to have breakfast across the street from the Old Town Hall, in a café called Presto Eatery.

It was the beautiful building that first caught our eye. Inside, we found a spacious café with a relaxed, welcoming vibe.

Our breakfast was a treat — eggs benedict served on a French butter croissant with perfectly poached eggs. Delicious, beautifully presented, and every bite as good as it looked. The drinks were refreshing, and the carrot cake was delicious too. The café was buzzing with a vibrant community feel.

On their website, Presto says it is built on bringing people together. That is exactly what happened. As we waited for our meal, a couple walked in, scanning the room for a table without luck. We invited them to join us. They gladly accepted.

Conversation flowed as if we had known each other for years. In fact, it felt even easier than that. Stories were shared, laughter came quickly, and time passed unnoticed. What began as breakfast became something richer — a reminder that travel is as much about the people we meet as the places we see.

We got into our car and drove a short way to Umpherston Sinkhole, also known as the Sunken Garden.

Nothing prepared us for its scale. The beauty, the size, the depth — it all has to be seen to be believed.

We walked down into the sinkhole. The terraces curved gently, leading us lower and lower.

Vines hung like green curtains, swaying softly in the breeze. To step behind them felt surreal, as though entering another world.

Once, this had been a great limestone cave. Over time, water dissolved the stone.

The roof eventually gave way, collapsing into itself and leaving this vast, open space. Nature then claimed it, turning ruin into wonder.

Standing at the bottom, looking up at the rim far above, I felt small yet deeply connected.

It was a reminder that beauty often comes from brokenness. What falls apart can become something extraordinary and that what endures carries with it a legacy worth pausing for.

Mount Gambier isn’t just known for its sinkholes, it’s also famous for its blue lakes. And when I say blue, I really mean blue! The colour is absolutely extraordinary. The Blue Lake itself sits in the crater of a maar volcano — basically a volcanic sinkhole. These days it’s not only the source of the town’s drinking water, but also a safe home for platypus.

The colour of the lake changes with the seasons, but when we saw it, it was dazzling.

As if matching name to colour, tiny blue wrens — or fairy-wrens — danced happily around the water’s edge.

They are among my favourite birds, and I was delighted that a few paused long enough for us to capture them in photos before fluttering away.

Not far from the shore, pink cherry blossom trees bloomed, their soft petals a perfect contrast to the vivid blue of the lake and the sky.

Signs of spring were all around us, and it felt like the whole landscape was waking up with joy.

A short drive away lies the Little Blue Lake, nestled in the Kanawinka volcanic area between two dormant volcanoes, Mount Schank and Mount Gambier.

What struck me most about the Little Blue Lake was its stillness — a perfect circle of blue held quietly between the volcanic walls.

Our next stop was the Tantanoola Caves.

Hidden within the limestone cliffs, this cave is like stepping into another world.

Its chambers glisten with stalactites and stalagmites, each formation shaped slowly over thousands of years.

The story of how it was found is almost as fascinating as the cave itself. Back in 1930, a young boy chasing his rabbit stumbled across an opening in the rock. Curiosity led him closer, and that is how the Tantanoola Caves were first discovered.

As we explored, our tour guide shared something remarkable. His own grandfather had been one of the very first men to venture inside after that discovery.

Standing there, surrounded by the glow of lights bouncing off ancient limestone, it felt humbling to think of the generations connected to this place — those who found it, those who cared for it, and now us, walking through in awe.

From the caves we drove straight into the Coonawarra Wine Region. This stretch of South Australia is famous around the world for its wines, especially its bold cabernet sauvignon. It is one of the many wine regions we plan to explore during this road trip, but Coonawarra holds a special reputation. Even with the vines lying dormant at this time of year, the landscape still stirs something deep inside. Row after row of vineyards line both sides of the road, stretching endlessly, reminding you of the life and tradition rooted here.

For this visit, I had chosen just one vineyard — Zema Estate. The story of this winery is as rich as its soil. The Zema family came from Calabria, Italy, bringing with them a love of the land, a deep connection to family, and a passion for producing something to be shared around the table. The estate is known for its handcrafted wines, carefully grown and nurtured right here in Coonawarra’s famous terra rossa soil.

What makes Zema Estate even more special is the presence of Mrs. Zema herself. Now 90 years old, she is still very much part of the spirit of the place. At the cellar door you can buy her estate-grown extra virgin olive oil, as well as her fiery hot chilli paste.

And then there’s Mrs. Zema’s Pizza Day, a much-loved tradition. On those days, the 90-year-old matriarch herself is part of making her renowned homemade pizzas, served with wine and accompanied by live music. The next date is October 18th — how I wish I could be there to taste her pizza, sip her family’s wine, and soak in the atmosphere of a tradition that blends heritage, food, and joy in such a heartfelt way.

Of course, we couldn’t leave without a wine tasting. Each glass carried the depth of the region, and it was impossible to choose just one favourite. We left with six bottles of red wine tucked safely into the car, treasures to be uncorked and cherished later, each one carrying us back to this moment.

As I thought about Mrs. Zema — still rolling out pizzas at ninety — my mind drifted to my own grandmother’s kitchen. Food, wine, kindness, family… these are the things that bind generations together. Traditions kept alive not by buildings or vines alone, but by the hands and hearts that nurture them. Standing there, I felt grateful that travel gives us glimpses of such legacies — and reminds us of the ones we carry forward ourselves.

Not far from Zema Estate we found ourselves wandering into a place that felt like stepping back in time — Petticoat Lane in Penola. This historic little street is lined with wooden and stone cottages dating back to the mid-1800s, some of the oldest buildings in the region. Their walls tell stories of early settlers, many of them Irish and Scottish, who made this place their home.

As we strolled along the narrow lane, we noticed how carefully the cottages have been preserved. Some are still private homes, while others are open to the public, giving glimpses of life as it was over a century ago.

One garden was blooming with lavender, softening the rough edges of the stone. Another had bright vegetables spilling out of neat garden beds, tended much the same way they would have been in those early days.

The backyards were fascinating.

The name Petticoat Lane always makes me smile. It is said to come from the sight of petticoats hung out on washing lines between the cottages, swaying in the breeze like little flags of daily life.

Standing there, I could almost imagine the women of the village, their laughter mingling with the chatter of children running along the dusty track.

Walking down Petticoat Lane after our visit to the winery was like tasting another side of South Australia — less about wine and food, more about history and heritage.

Both, in their own way, spoke of community, family, and lives lived with resilience and joy.

I have always loved house museums. They hold so many stories, and you can learn so much simply by walking through their rooms.

One story that truly captivated us was that of Sharam’s Cottage, home to Ellen and Christopher Sharam and their remarkable family of fifteen children.

Christopher was a bootmaker at Limestone Ridge Station and in 1848 he married Ellen Patching, the shepherd’s daughter from nearby Glenroy Station. Just two years later, in 1850, they moved into this tiny cottage. Life was far from easy. Ellen bore and raised all fifteen children here, under the simplest and most difficult of conditions.

Christopher’s reputation as a skilled bootmaker was well known in the district — and thankfully so, for at least he could keep his brood of fifteen in shoes.

This cottage shares a story of resilience, family, and quiet strength that lingers in the walls of the little home.

The other story that completely captivated us was that of Wilson Cottage. William Wilson was born in Fifeshire, Scotland, in 1818. After serving in the British Army, he and his wife Agnes immigrated to Australia in 1849, settling in the Penola district where William worked as a shepherd.

When gold was discovered in Victoria, William joined the rush, pushing a wheelbarrow with his belongings over 300 kilometres from Penola to Ballarat. He had been away from his family for nearly two years, when much of his gold was stolen by his companion. Undeterred, William stayed on, gathering enough to return home — again pushing his wheelbarrow all the way back.

On his return, he purchased this land at Petticoat Lane and established a flourishing market garden and orchard. His produce was so renowned that John Riddoch of Yallum Station recognised the quality of Wilson’s grapes and fruit. From that recognition, the Coonawarra Fruit Colony was born, the foundation of what is now the famous Coonawarra wine industry. Many of William’s descendants still live in the district, carrying on that legacy.

As we left Penola behind, I found myself still thinking about the stories of Sharam’s Cottage and Wilson Cottage. The resilience, determination, and sheer grit of those families stayed with me. Their lives were hard, yet they built something lasting — legacies that still shape the region today.

Those thoughts kept me company during our drive to Robe. By the time we arrived, the sun was setting, painting the sky in soft pinks and golds — a perfect welcome.

Our Airbnb in Robe is a complete contrast to the historical homes we had been staying in.

This one is sleek and modern, with clean lines and a fresh feel.

The backyard pergola is made for evenings, where you can sit beneath the open sky and breathe in the night air.

Inside, the open fireplace glows with warmth, wrapping the whole home in comfort.

Right in the centre of Robe, it’s the perfect base for the next part of our journey. We couldn’t be happier with it, and we look forward to exploring Robe in the days to come.

What a day it has been — from sunrise chai at Colhurst House to sunset in Robe, with caves, cottages, vines, lakes, stories, discoveries, and memories made in between, and the promise of tomorrow.

Link to Colhurst House: http://www.colhursthouse.com.au