Cape Lodge

This review of Cape Lodge in Margaret River is taken from our guidebook Mr & Mrs Smith Hotel Collection Australia/New Zealand.

 

Waking up at four in the morning is only ever acceptable when you’re jetting off for a dirty weekend. This was to be Mr Smith’s and my first trip to Western Australia, and the anticipation of arriving at the renowned Margaret River wine region was enough to keep us in great spirits despite the godforsaken hour of our flight to Perth. By 10am, we’ve crammed our over-packed case into the tiny rental car, Mr Smith is behind the wheel, the iPod is connected, and I’ve assumed the role of navigator, a task I always approach with trepidation. With about five different maps scattered around me, including one very large, detailed and thus confusing road atlas, I am ready to guide us to Cape Lodge. I think.

 

Three hours later we turn into the long driveway – vineyards on one side, tall eucalyptus trees on the other – leading up to the magnificent hotel (ornate entrances seem mandatory around here). Minutes later, we’re shown to our Forest Spa Suite and it delivers on every level: it’s spacious, with lofty ceilings, a huge bed and underfloor heating in the bathroom. When I discover the Jacuzzi, overlooking the lake and trees, I can’t contain my squeals of delight. As I skip out with a smile, Mr Smith plants a G&T in my hand. The getaway has begun.

 

Our first wine tasting is scheduled for 5.30pm in the hotel’s lounge. Visions of a room filled with people fighting to get another sip of free wine have been niggling in the recesses of my mind, so I’m surprised to find Mr Smith and I are the only guests hunkering down in the plush chairs. We’re served a Cape Lodge sauv blanc and a shiraz and are left to explore the delicate flavours of the local wines. After a quick dinner at a local restaurant we feel the pull of our king-size bed, and soon enough we’re slipping into our luxurious sheets, exhausted but satisfied.

 

Mr Smith can hardly believe it when the alarm goes at 7.30am the next morning. It’s early for a workday, never mind while we’re on holiday, but we have big plans. In my humble opinion, the size and quality of breakfast should be inversely proportional to the hour of the day you wake up, and this morning’s ticks all the right boxes: a gourmet experience, classical music in the background and a serene lake view. The only downside was that we had to rush to make an appointment with a whale.

 

After an hour’s drive we arrive at Augusta, where we spot a scarily small boat moored at the jetty. Mr Smith seems ill just looking at it, but then realises it’s only taking us out to a much larger boat – one that won’t be so easily swallowed by the largest mammal on earth. With 16 people on board, we set off to spot humpback and southern right whales. The swells are quite large, so I fix my gaze on the horizon in an effort to avoid seasickness (we’ve been branded ‘daredevils’ by our fellow passengers for taking up a perhaps foolhardy position on the bow).

 

All eyes are focused on the ocean, looking for the telltale spouts of water, and it’s not long before we see our fi rst whale. They’re not particularly shy creatures, and soon another curious beastie is popping its head out of the water to take a peek at us. It is as incredible as anything I’ve ever witnessed. After two hours and eight or nine whale sightings, and with the threat of an approaching storm, we head back to shore. Feeling invigorated by the whales and the sea air, Mr Smith and I agree on the beautiful Leeuwin Estate for some wine tasting and food. Outside on the terrace we fall in love with the oaky Art Series chardonnay, the estate-baked bread served with Olio Bello Leccino extra virgin olive oil, and the chocolate fondant.

 

Back at Cape Lodge, Mr Smith has secretly organised for an indulgent prelude to dinner: a bottle of champagne in the room. Now, I decide, is the perfect time to rejuvenate in that hot tub with its views of the lake. A bottle of fizz and a very bubbly bath later, we saunter off to eat (again). There is a sophisticated charm to the lakeside restaurant, from the lilting Mozart to the lovely French waiters. We may stand out from the other diners, being the youngest couple here, but this doesn’t stop the entire experience being excellent. Mr Smith is hooked on the butter-poached marron (it’s a freshwater crayfish farmed locally), and a dish of pork prepared three ways wins me over, as does the accompanying Cape Lodge sauv blanc. A slice of chocolate torte later, and we retreat, ever so slowly, back to our suite, agreeing that the holiday has taken a decidedly gourmet turn.

 

Breakfast the next morning is a leisurely affair and Mr Smith comments that we’ve come dangerously close to committing the second deadly sin on this break. Of course, it doesn’t stop us from asking if we can take one of the strawberry and dark chocolate muffins for the road. The cherry on our weekend cake is being handed a beautifully tied box with two of the delicious muffins inside. We wind down the windows and drive slowly away, the parcel safely on the back seat – along with a couple of bottles of Cape Lodge wine, of course.