Victoria

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IT WAS NOT YOUR USUAL holiday itinerary: Swoop down from the heavens, buzz a vineyard, land, unbuckle, dismount, sniff, sip, gargle, spit, remount, buckle up and return to an altitude of 300 metres while enjoying a lingering tang of pinot noir. Repeat at regular intervals.

By the end of a helicopter tour of central Victoria’s vineyards, an extraordinary blend of Oddbins and ‘Nam, our bunch of happy drinkers had evolved into a well-drilled unit of vino veterans. Over two-and-a-half days we covered an area that takes a week by car, consumed gallons of intensely flavoured wine and enjoyed cork-popping views rarely available from a hired Toyota Cressida.

From the start, the latest addition to Australia’s thriving wine tourism industry has a distinct whiff of rock’n’roll. Rising from a helipad on the Yarra River in central Melbourne, we flew at penthouse height past city skyscrapers towards the glimmering arc of Port Phillip Bay. A right turn into the vast interior and our six-man Euro-copter was soon zipping past Mount Cole’s summit — early evidence the trip was about scenery as well as supping.

The first vineyard, Mount Langi Ghiran, appeared as a bright target on the burnished land, its grapes covered to ward off flocks of white cockatoos. ‘They’re flying rats,’ said our pilot Shane Reseigh ‘The little bastards will chomp anything, even window frames.’

Forty-five minutes after take-off, we were on the ground with Trevor Mast, proprietor and winemaker. Sporting scruffy boots and shorts, he was not a man to stand on ceremony: ‘Bugger tasting from the bottle, we’ll draw it straight off the barrels.’

Among deep dark caverns of oak we siphoned off a Shiraz and smooth 2002 Merlot. This was the business. Tippling with an expert surrounded by fermenting booze. Sadly a clap of thunder cut short proceedings. Bad weather’s unusual. “We’ve not had decent rain for four years,” said Trevor – but our helicopter had to stay ahead of the storm.

It meant a spectacular 10-minute spin around the Grampian Mountains, the last leg of east Australia’s Great Dividing Range. Excuse the breathless schoolboy excitement, but helicopter flying is ridiculously thrilling. It’s the nose-down take-offs over the vines, tight hovering circles over tin roofs and rhythmic thump of the rotor blades – all that’s missing is a sweeping Wagnerian soundtrack.

140 years back in time

To reach our second stop, we travelled 25 miles and more than 140 years back in time. Bests Winery at Great Western claims to have the oldest vines on earth. Planted in 1860 the nursery block is a crazy hotchpotch of more than 40 pick’n’mix varieties.

In the cool of the original hand-dug cellar, surrounded by 130-year-old barrels, five more glasses slipped down with ludicrous ease, including a legendary 2001 Bin No 0 Shiraz. Guidebooks claim Bests’ wines are ‘consistently elegant with great balance and longevity’. Or, as boss Viv Thomson put it: ‘They’re not ball busters.’

Fifty minutes of convivial conversation and the family were waving us off to the third and final vineyard of the day. Passing over several forested ridges, Shane uttered words you’re unlikely to hear while sipping burgundy with Jancis Robinson. ‘We’ll get a bit of a buffeting as we go over the top. No worries.’

In fact the flight was remarkably smooth. Instead of nausea, it produced a reckless determination to move on to the next tasting. Haring over a final summit Shane drawled: ‘Blue Pyrenees Winery, 11 o’clock.’ I clamped a cheroot between my teeth, cradled my semi-automatic and prepared to engage Charlie…

I’m sorry, it must be the Shiraz. I took a deep breath and girded my liver.

Blue Pyrenees, named after the aura that coasts the mountains from nearby eucalyptus trees, is an altogether smoother vintage. Previously owned by Remy Martin, it was purchased quite recently by John Ellis, a former Hong Kong banker who turned a private passion into a second career.

Sporting Ralph Lauren Polo and peppering his talk with mention of portfolios, consultants and gold awards, he made a fascinating tour guide. After looking up to view glass shards embedded in the roof from bottles of midnight cuvee that exploded rather than sparkled, we put our noses down for a rapid-fire wine master class.

Nine samples later and food was required. Urgently. It arrived on the shady Blue Pyrenees veranda with a plate of giant prawns, fettuccine and spinach – along with several glasses of excellent plonk.

It was getting a tad hazy. But the more we drank, the more obvious were the advantages of the tour. I was in no fit state to drive, yet it wasn’t a problem. Condor Helicopters arrange pick-ups and drop-offs for guests, who, as Shane delicately put it, ‘get a little cosy’.

All we had to do was reach the Shamrock Hotel in Bendigo. A late Victorian mix of elaborate iron-work and stucco ornamentation, it has hosted statesmen, Charles and Diana – actually smilin – and stars of the gold-rush town’s theatres. My suite was named after Lola Montez: entertainer, femme fatale and royal mistress, dubbed ‘La Grande Horizontale’ – a position I could relate to after 19 glasses of wine.

Gourmet tucker

This is not a weight loss trip. There was more gourmet tucker at the Emeu Inn, a converted goldminer’s pub. After a night of loud snoring, we were back on-board heading to the next vineyard at 180mph. It was just 12 hours since our last tipple. Towns that begged for a comedy Australian accent, Wangaratta, Yarrawonga, Maraweeny, flashed by below.

Day two was less taxing on the liver. You can draw up a bespoke itinerary, but Condor deliberately select wineries of varying sizes and styles. Today’s was Brown Brothers in Malawa, which produces 12 million bottles a year while coping effortlessly with 100,000 tourists. Next door is a cheesery, the hip Lindenwarrah hotel and a landing strip so wine enthusiasts can fly in for the weekend.

There’s also a wine kindergarten. Not a play area for kids with boozy parents, but a centre to trial and test new flavours. Its most famous offspring is Tarrango, a light red that’s not produced commercially anywhere else on the planet, and sells 1.5 million bottles each year.

Lunch was also unique. You choose a Brown Brothers wine and its renowned restaurant recommends a dish to highlight its flavours. My 2004 pinot grigio came with pan-fried sardines, tomatoes and olives. This could work at home. You order a Guinness and the barman informs you: ‘It’s perfect with pork scratchings, never peanuts.’

The helicopter allowed a highly unusual tasting – five minutes’ flight towards the hills and Brown Brothers’ spectacular Banksdale vines. The sparkling chardonnay-pinot noir blend may have a peach tang, but my palate was slightly desensitised by a helicopter hovering 30 metres behind my left shoulder. It set us up nicely for more conventional sipping in the cellar door sales area, which had the feel of an Alpine chalet. It climaxed with a 1999 Patricia Late Harvested Noble Riesling, named after CEO Ross Brown’s mother. ‘It’s won more gold than Ian Thorpe,’ he said. ‘You’re excused if you swallow.’

Sensational, but not the day’s last highlight.

That came with an epic flight through shafts of light from a Cecil B De Mille sunset, en route to Victoria’s High Country. A night at the foot of Mt Buller, and we were set for a morning of adrenaline-fuelled scenic flying.

Escaping the rat race

Shane, whose chopper CV includes air-sea rescue, fighting forest fires and heli-cattle mustering, climbed and swooped dramatically over peaks buried under deep snow in June and July. There was time for a final very different winery. Set in stunning country beneath the mountains, Kinloch is ripe for a documentary about escaping the rat race. Malcolm, a former hospital boss, and his wife Susan, an executive headhunter, started the nine-acre vineyard in 1996. Now its pinot meunier wins awards and tourists visit for the food. On reflection, it’s too happy for Channel 4.

And that left just a breathtaking return flight back over the hilltop mansions that give suburban Melbourne the feel of Bel Air.

At nearly £2,000 it’s clearly not a budget trip, but you get a truly unforgettable blend of high-altitude thrills, wild views and guilt-free drinking. It was a totally intoxicating three days