October-December 2006, Quentin Chester, Australian Geographic
The following article by Quentin Chester originally published in Australian Geographic October-December 2006 reproduced courtesy of Australian Geographic.
Essence of the Barossa
Born of Prussian toil, SA’s wine region resonates with all things Germanic.
The Barossa was founded on faith. It’s etched in its aged headstones; writ large in a horizontal landscape of twisted vines and sharp church steeples; and oozes from bake-houses and butcher shops alike.
An hour’s drive north of Adelaide, the Barossa remains one of the nation’s most defined cultural experiences. A melting pot of German tradition, family toil and a devout connection to the land, its heritage dates back 170 years.
In 1836, a meeting in London between an English businessman and a dissident Lutheran pastor sowed the seeds of this fertile region. Pastor August Ludwig Kavel engaged in a bitter battle over restrictive religious decrees being enforced by the King of Prussia, Friedrich Wilhelm III sought safe passage to America from members of his congregation. During negotiations, he learned of George Fife Angas, an enthusiastic proponent of the fledgling free colony of SA, and travelled to England where together they hatched a plan to relocate his flock.
George advanced £8000 for the migration and in November 1838, 200 or so Lutherans arrived at Port Adelaide. Boatloads of fellow worshippers followed a month later and in 1839 and 1841. Twelve months on, 28 German families established the Barossa Valley’s first settlement, Bethanien, meaning ‘a fertile place’. In 1845, Australia’s first Lutheran seminary was established at Lobethal.
By 1859, more than 1500 Lutherans had arrived, and pioneering settlements such as Krondorf were established in the traditional Hufendorf style with houses close together along the main village road and backed by long, narrow plots of farming land. Each family was self-sufficient with crops, gardens, vineyards and livestock.
It was tough going during the early years: the staple meal was home-grown meat, potatoes and cabbage before kitchens started turning out dilled cucumbers, noodle soup and the forerunners of today’s wursts, breads and cakes.
Close ties and unswerving faith sustained the settlers. Initially, they constructed crude congregational buildings of mud and thatch that became stone churches to which spires were later added. Today, the immaculate condition and number of steeples on the skyline serve as a reminder that churches were the hub of community life.
Religious fervour, however, was tempered with German heritage. By the mid to late 1800s, cottages were decked in home-crafted fabrics and furniture handmade by Prussian cabinet-makers. Town halls echoed with the sound of ‘Liedertafel’ or choirs and brass bands. Formed in 1861, the Tanunda Liedertafel continues today.
In the beginning, winemaking was another expression of village life. But by the 1880s, it was clear the humble grape would shape the Barossa’s future. Over the next two decades commercial winemaking boomed – a combination of ideal environmental conditions, experienced winemakers and the procurement of a European market. Today, the region has 600 or so independent grape growers, many of whom, including fifth-generation Barossa winemaker Stephen Henschke, can trace a line of descent back to the early Prussian settlers. These growers tend the world’s oldest shiraz vineyards.
“This is our sacred site,” Stephen says of a row of gnarled 140-year-old grape vines. Stephen talks as if they’re family, explaining that the oldest vines are known as The Grandfathers.
Yet, for all its prominence, winemaking is just one measure of what continues to stir the Barossa. As loyal as the locals are to their cultural roots, they’ve always been canny enough to adapt and invent. After 170 years, the people of the Barossa, like their forebears, know what it means to have faith rewarded.