Grape Expectations - South West Australia's Wine Region

To the South of Perth and beyond Fremantle, the majority of visitors head for the World-renowned Margaret River wine region in the far bottom left-hand corner of Australia.

The township of Margaret River itself is a three hour drive from Perth, but there are a number of places along the way that, whilst not necessarily constituting worthy day-trip destinations from the city in themselves, are nonetheless interesting diversions while heading South.

First among them is Mandurah, a seaside town of rapidly increasing scale and importance.

Formerly a small, country trading post and then weekend coastal retreat from Perth, Mandurah has in recent years been the scene of rampant property development, particularly on the banks of newly-canalised inland waterways. It lends the town, in parts, a distinctly Floridian feel, with sleek motorcruisers moored at the foot of lawned gardens which glide down from sparkling villas and townhouses.

When this development began, and indeed for sometime afterward, access to this millionaire’s lifestyle came relatively cheap, as the 70km distance from Perth and congested road links limited the market severely.

All that began to change with the coming of the railway from Perth in December 2007, which dramatically reduced the journey time and suddenly catapulted Mandurah from sleepy isolation to commuter magnet and, in doing so, made the town one of the least affordable places to live in Australia. It’s a boating, fishing and bathing haven, with high-end shops, restaurants and cafés springing up to serve the new residents of not just the waterside villas, but the light and airy marina apartment blocks too.

The design of the railway itself is worthy of note. Despite some serious industrial relations issues during construction, the route was completed in a little over three and a half years, the work having started in February 2004.

It’s an almost text-book example of intelligent urban transport planning. Firstly and before construction even began, the route was revised to take a more direct and therefore profitable alignment, albeit at greater up-front cost. For a significant distance, the tracks run between the carriageways of the Kwinana Highway, with those carriageways diverging slightly at stations to allow for platforms and associated infrastructure.

The stations are located at major intersections, with access to them gained from the flyovers above. These flyovers also host bus stations which laterally link the surrounding residential and commercial districts to the rail line. This system is, to a certain extent, replicated in some of the Northern Perth suburbs also and together, they support what’s been described as one of the World’s most successful rail renaissance projects.

Continuing towards Margaret River however, the next major city is Bunbury. Being that much further away from Perth, Bunbury survives far more on its own natural and built environment. The deepwater port serves the timber and farming industries of the region and the city – third largest in WA – is connected to Perth by twice-daily rail service as well as by road.

For the visitor, most of the attractions are subtle at best – apartments converted from former grain silos for example, or a beachside café that was slowly developed from the unlikely starting blocks of a public toilet and a kiosk. More stunning is the beach that this latter watering-hole directly overlooks.

Next along the road is Busselton, far more of a tourist destination in itself than either Mandurah or Bunbury. Chief amongst its attractions is its jetty which, in true Antipodean size-matters fashion, asserts the claim to being the longest wooden jetty in the Southern Hemisphere. It formerly also supported a rail line which would ferry freight, then passengers, to the pier end, but these days it’s an exposed walk in the fiery sun.

Of course, the only place in Busselton from which you can’t see the jetty is from the jetty itself, so there’s another reason to enjoy the beachside cafés and parks, or the sands themselves. The iconic sheds at the jetty wharf lose something through the hanging of modern signs on the outside of them, but it’s a pleasant enough vista nonetheless.

Beyond Busselton, the state becomes increasingly rural and sparsely populated. Conversely, the concentration of the renowned vineyards, wineries and olive groves increases. Of the vineyards, one of the newest and most interesting is that of the Saracen Estates.

Firstly, it should be noted that there’s a distinction between a vineyard, where grapes are grown, and a winery where they’re made into wine. It sounds obvious, but you’d be amazed at how many folks rock up at a vineyard expecting to see the whole process in front of them, and instead find merely lines and lines of bushes.

Secondly, when deciding which vineyards/wineries to visit, try and check which reputation you’re basing that decision on. The best wines come from the best winery, but that says nothing about whether that winery’s restaurant happens to be any good, of course.

And thirdly, for the inexperienced in such matters, just enjoy. Tastings are rarely stingy and if you don’t like something then say so. Firstly, the staff have probably heard it before but, if they haven’t, they need feedback to guide future tastings.

So, for a mid-morning visit with coffee and a tasting, Saracen is an excellent choice. Indeed, not only is the estate a vineyard and winery, it’s also home to the Duckstein Brewery as well as a stunning new café, restaurant and tasting complex, overlooking their lake and landscaped bush.

There’s plenty of room for a larger party to do their own thing, the highlight being the tastings of course, which are undertaken at either a bar or, for the weak of feet, a fireside lounge area. Top pick on this occasion was the 2007 Sauvignon Blanc Semillon (SBS), which suited a sunny Australian late morning perfectly.

Long time visitors to the region lament that the town of Margaret River, 280kms South of Perth, has grown beyond its intimate collection of houses, art galleries, boutiques and unique drinking and dining options, into an overly-busy honey pot of chain outlets and traffic.

The fist-time visitor is unlikely to think so however and, by comparison to say Ambleside or Windermere in England’s Lake District, Margaret River remains a sleepy backwater – albeit one under vivid blue skies and Antipodean sun.

Just outside the town, quite apart from the myriad vineyards and wineries, are superb surf beaches and expansive woodland, along with several hundred caves within the Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park. Travelling back North along Caves Road, the landscape is idyllic with rolling hills and forests, vineyards and groves, sometimes augmented by sculpture and art, lakes and fountains which have been installed as estate centrepieces or entrance adornments. It’s a beautiful part of the World and one which rewards those who’ve travelled to see it enormously.

Clinging to the cliffside of Cape Naturaliste is the tiny town of Yallingup, almost every house in which has the most stunning view out across the Indian Ocean and down to the top class surf beach below. There’s very little to do there otherwise, except to find a real estate agent and investigate the practicalities of moving there immediately.

On the other side of the cape is the township of Dunsborough, which seems to have recently exploded in size without any obvious catalyst. There’s a good selection of shops and dining options and a pleasant beach. Far better, however, to head a little further West from the town, towards the cape itself and seek out the beautiful beaches at Mealup and Eagle Bays.

In the latter case, don’t even think about looking in an estate agent’s window. If you have to ask, you can’t afford it. There’s one more beach along this little hook of land jutting out into the ocean. This large, North-facing, perfect crescent of white, gently-shelving sand and crystal clear waters is Bunker Bay and, ever so helpfully, there’s a hotel right behind the dunes.

Quay West Resort, Bunker Bay

Bumper stickers. They’re not the first thing that spring to mind a few minutes after checking in to a ‘stunning 5-star Resort’, yet somehow they did on this occasion.

‘Don’t follow us, we’re lost too’ or ‘My other hotel is a Youth Hostel’ – you know the kind of pithy messages – and if the Quay West Resort had been fitted with bumpers, then they would have been sticker city.

Now, just in case the CEO of Mirvac Hotels & Resorts is reading this and finds him or herself dangerously close to a cliff edge or bridge parapet, let me preface what follows by making clear that Bunker Bay is a stunningly-situated, intelligently-designed resort which succeeds in blending into the surrounding environment remarkably sympathetically.

Indeed, it lives up to Mirvac’s well-earned reputation as a property developer of imagination, creativity and quality.

Unfortunately, Bunker Bay is let down badly by under-resourced recruitment and training, and a marketing department who have either never actually visited it, or never visited a real five star hotel or more worryingly, probably both. Brochured hyperbole is one thing. The reality is quite different.

Let me also say that by far and away the majority of the staff members were absolutely delightful. I’d suggest, however, that they waste at least 20% of their time apologising to guests for the interminable waits for service.

This is a ‘5-star Resort’ with no door staff and no porters. Of particular note to this party, it’s a car-free ‘5-star Resort’ with only one (permanently unavailable) wheelchair. Most Tescos have half a dozen, minimum. It’s a ‘5-star Resort’ with no beach service and the cheapest, mostly broken beach chairs and umbrellas that you’ve ever seen. Worse still, it’s a ‘5-star Resort’ where the guests themselves have to haul the beach paraphernalia backwards and forwards between sand and room.

It’s a ‘5-star Resort’ where the in-room broadband doesn’t work and the unreliable lobby WiFi service is supplied by a third party operator whose helpline is strictly office hours only.

It’s also a ‘5-star Resort’ where each individual room or villa is owned by an investor – a fairly common system Down Under – which makes the general levels of care and cleaning (or lack thereof) not just a matter of commercial concern for the hotel operator, but an enormous issue (I’d suggest) for the poor soul whose funds are tied up in what they must hope will be an appreciating asset.

You’d be certain then that I’d have made my feelings known pretty quickly – especially over the stained rugs and house of horror cobwebs festooning the vaulted villa ceiling, the broken bathroom blind or the dust and detritus in the cupboards.

Well, you’d be wrong, and I’ll tell you why.

Firstly, lots of these realisations built only slowly, over a number of days. The cleanliness issue, having become sensitised to it and looked up at the windows of all the other villas and, probably worse still, the main resort building – was clearly a feature of the entire property. A cursory glance of the housekeepers’ golf-buggies proved that they were equipped to no-more than dust, wipe and tidy.

So secondly, and in addition to the cleaning problem, it was obvious that a conversation with management (should there be any available as the hotel was running without an Operations Manager at the time) about staffing levels, training and resort facilities, not to mention their over-enthusiastic marketing, might be met with platitudes, but practically-speaking, not a lot else.

Thirdly, this was a holiday, a planned de-stress with a party in tow who would not take to being de-camped again too comfortably.

Better then, under the circumstances, to make the best of the situation and enjoy the many positives of the hotel and its location – of which there were many. Therefore, overall, the balance was tipped back in favour of Bunker Bay – the fourth reason for just going with the flow.

The hotel itself is a collection of cleverly designed studios, villas and rooms, arranged in staggered terraces and standalone groups to make the best of bush, garden and ornamental lake views, while retaining the maximum privacy.



It’s cleverly done, very much in the layout style of European Center Parcs or Fairmont’s Jasper Park Lodge in Canada - only better.



The villas have one, two or three bedrooms and some of the two-bedroomed ones can be further augmented through interconnection with an adjacent studio or room.

They’re equipped to a very high standard, with full kitchens and laundries, lounge and dining area, spa-style bathrooms with free-standing baths and walk in wetroom showers. Each villa has a furnished terrace and the beds are comfortable, even if the linens are again a far-cry from ‘5-star’.













The guest accommodation is linked to the car parks by way of pedestrianised pathways, again very much in the Center Parcs and JPL mould, with golf-buggies the only means of assisted transport. It’s these carts that will fetch and bring your luggage, if necessary, but don’t expect a rapid response.



The main hotel facilities are located around the central resort building, which houses the lobby and Reception, the bar and small library, a couple of function rooms and the hotel’s restaurant – the evocatively named ‘Other Side of The Moon’.

On the landward side of the resort building is a spa and tennis court, and on the seaward side a gym and the small swimming pool. The indoor areas are all beautifully designed; cool, light and airy, but look closely and the dust and cobwebs are plainly visible.



Breakfast is served in the ‘Other Side of The Moon’, a fairly chaotic buffet whose daily variations smacked rather more of having run out of certain components, as opposed to merely keeping things interesting and rotating the offerings. The staff clearly have no concept of the meaning of the words ‘background music’ either, as the sound system pumped out a sometimes bizarre mix of ABBA and Beethoven at factory level. There was no respite out on the terrace either, where the volume appeared even higher, but it mattered not whether seated inside or out; the clanking of the door between the two was an incessant additional percussion.



The breakfast was at least fulsome in quantity if not quality or variety, but it remained no invitation to risk lunch or dinner, so all our dining was self-catered or off-site, and the hotel lost out on significant incremental on-spend.

The gym was similarly uninviting, a goldfish bowl looked in upon from the poolside terrace. This area was usually very busy with young families who either hadn’t found the beach, couldn’t be bothered to look for the beach or considered the man-made water feature safer for their charges than that which nature had crafted. In the latter case, fair comment, I suppose.



But: that beach! A short boardwalk leads from the villas, past the ornamental lake, through some gum trees and over the small dunes. It’s no more than a couple of hundred metres from anywhere on the resort property to having your toes in the warm white sand.



It is, not to put too fine a point on it, stunning. Iridescent blue sea, lapping fringes of snow-white surf, cobalt sky and pristine, bleached sand. Couples and families dotted along with acres of space each to enjoy and an almost ever-present breeze to cool the brow. The word ‘paradise’ is far too banal to be used to describe this place, and insane jealousy too mild a reaction toward those lucky enough to live in the houses tucked into the wooded hillsides at the far Western end of the bay.







So, Bunker Bay is about long, sunny days on the sand, reading, watching and drinking in the view. It’s swimming in the warm, shallow, crystal-clear waters. And it’s about long walks at sunrise and sunset to remember that it’s the simplest things in life that often have the most profound effect on our souls. As one of the over-worked staff said of the place: ‘I never want to leave.’

Given then that the hotel itself offers little in the way of incentive to dine at the restaurant, and there is no on-property shopping, it’s to Dunsborough that guests much venture to stock up, eat out or takeaway. In all respects, the town is well-equipped to meet these needs.

A new shopping centre houses an expansive supermarket, with a suitably comprehensive (for this wine-growing region) bottle shop next door. There’s a well-regarded fish and chip shop – Squid Lips – and a chicken rotisserie. The Big Pig pizza shop on the other side of the main road offers a wide menu and prompt, good-value service and there are a couple of decent cafés, bars and restaurants to tempt; the only problem being that the drive back to Bunker Bay will require at least one abstainer from the local ferments, and therefore self-catering or takeaway seemed to win out for us every time.

Best of all, an early evening return from town will almost certainly reward the careful and observant traveller with a mob or two of marsupials along the way.



In all honesty, then, Bunker Bay has to be one of the most fabulous places that I’ve ever been to, despite the disappointments of the hotel itself. In fact, given the choice of anywhere in the World to get on an aeroplane to right now, this would be top of the list. I just can’t help feeling that I’d be even keener to go back with a Quay West name badge and a pair of size 11 boots on, to kick the place up its backside to the level of excellence that it’s so clearly capable of.

Final Verdict for the Quay West Resort, Bunker Bay: 6.0/10. The property has the potential to be a strong 8.5 or 9.0, but cleanliness, dining, staffing and service levels are all unworthy of its stunning location and intelligent design. I would return without hesitation, but having already cancelled a flexible rate and locking in a much cheaper pre-pay one, I’d only make the trip if both the standards had clearly improved and the rates moderated to reflect the risk that they might not. Disappointing.

Perth to Auckland - Air New Zealand

The last time I flew with Air New Zealand, it was on the flagship NZ1/2 London to Auckland and return route and, despite everything I’d heard beforehand, it had been distinctly underwhelming. It was also the most recent long-haul trip I’ve taken in an Economy cabin, the principal feature of which was a seat pitch of 34” – up to 3” more than competitor carriers.

It proved, fairly unequivocally, that size isn’t everything and that a little extra leg room is worth a lot less than a comfortable seat. Which, without a shadow of doubt, the NZ seat was not. In fact it was significantly less comfortable than those competitor seats and therefore it proved to be a somewhat pointless move to have swapped allegiances.

The London-based transatlantic crews were very good, but the Auckland-based Transpacific crews might just have well worked for a completely different company. Uncommunicative, barely visible and cursory in the discharge of their duties, they’d hardly been great ambassadors for their far-flung homeland. That the same disparity in service applied on the return sectors suggested a diminished likelihood of this having been purely bad luck on my part.

Since then however, Air New Zealand have been fervently upgrading their cabins. First Class has been removed and Business Class upgraded to ‘Business Premier,’ with a heavily-marketed flat bed which is licensed from Virgin Atlantic.

A Pacific Premium Economy cabin has been introduced, with increased legroom and Business Class catering, and the rearmost Pacific Economy cabin has also been enhanced.

Positive reviews and industry awards have flowed and so now was the chance to lay the ghosts of NZ1/2 to rest.

Check-in and ground handling at Perth airport is undertaken by NZ’s arch-rivals Qantas, and the initial impressions were, frankly, superb. Business Class check-in was quick, efficient and very friendly. A wheelchair was summoned to the desk swiftly and we were given directions to the Qantas Club in which to relax prior to departure.

The lounge has recently been renovated, and to the highest of standards. Although clearly not quite as amenity-laden as its Sydney and Melbourne counterparts, the interior design theme is the same and it looked superb.

Having driven up from the South West that day, the first priority was a shower and change into flying togs. The lounge angel provided sealed bales of fresh, fluffy white towels and directions to the shower suites. Spotlessly clean, sensibly-designed and well-equipped, with abundant Molton Brown amenities, they shamed Heathrow Terminal 5’s shabby offerings utterly and completely.

Refreshed and re-robed, the food presentations offered a wide selection of options from which to choose – a bowl of nuts with a chilled glass of wine, right up to a very nice curry and rice (although portion-controlled with very dainty plates). In fact, it was only after significant searching that anything less than perfect was identified: the over-buffet canopy made it rather difficult to select anything at the rear of the presentation and, likewise, for the staff to lay anything out at the front, from their access point at the back. Frankly though, I think I’ll let them off on this.

The bar selection is equally comprehensive, with expansive chillers and free-pour spirits and there are defined dining, lounging and working areas. All in all, a real superb facility for Perth.

Things got better when a smartly dressed gentleman appeared to introduce himself as the Flight Service Manager for our flight. He chatted with all the NZ passengers and invited us, should we need anything at all, to speak to him at any time during the flight. It was a very, very nice touch indeed and one which other passengers seemed to react very positively to.

All memories of NZ1 and 2 firmly banished then, and we sat back to await the boarding call, keeping an eye on the unusually informative departure screens, which even include passenger load details and aircraft type.

The next PA announcement began with the equally unusual introduction of distinctly-heard giggles, perhaps as the enmity between QF and NZ bubbled through. Qantas were, it transpired, delight…er…sorry to announce a delay to flight NZ174, as someone had stolen an emergency exit sign from the aircraft. With our dapper FSM nowhere to be seen, we sat and waited for further updates.

In fairness, it didn’t seem to be all that long before our wheelchair pusher arrived – who in fact turned out to be our friendly check-in agent. We set off purposefully in the hands of our airport expert, who promptly delivered us to a gate two stands away from our aircraft. In fact, not just the gate, but the end of the jetty. It didn’t seem to register that there were no gate staff, no passengers – indeed no evidence of any departing flight whatsoever, so the lack of aircraft and the sheer drop at the end of the jetty seemed to unnerve her somewhat. More fool I for not piping up and pointing out the only Air New Zealand flight of the day sitting two gates along…..

Ultimately, we arrived at the correct gate and pre-boarded immediately.

Despite this being a 6 hour plus, overnight flight, the 767 equipment used is not fitted with NZ’s much publicised Business Premier flat bed but, rather, a traditional seat faced in aesthetically tasteful (if sweaty in practice) leather. At least NZ are slightly more forthcoming on their website about the hard product on the Perth route than Singapore Airlines are on theirs, but it’s arguably an even greater gulf between NZ’s two Business Class offerings than between the extremes of SQ’s myriad versions.

The cabin at least looked smart, clean and fresh, with natty amenity packs and plump pillows on the seats.

After the Lounge Angel’s odd announcement, there came a series of equally strange ‘company’ announcements to crew on board, telling them not to allow anyone to sit beyond a certain row number, as the lack of emergency signage at the rear of the aircraft rendered these seats unusable by law.

OK, the stolen sign was an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence, but surely passengers seated in the affected areas would be re-accommodated by gate staff, not shuffled around in the confined space onboard?

As status and premium passengers began to board, another problem emerged: two other passengers had boarding passes for my seat. Again, how this was missed by gate staff and/or their scanners is a cause for wonder. As I was next to the less-than-sprightly GCC, the other pass-holders were happy to defer and take any other available seat in the cabin of 24 seats. Well, one of them had to move again as the seat he went to was about to be occupied, although crew had directed him there after consulting the pre-board manifest…..

Although somewhat isolated from it in the forward cabin, it was obvious from the amount of bing-bonging that all was not well up the back. And, indeed it proved to be, as the next PA asked any passengers seated in the affected, rearmost, rows to move forward into any available seat. So, the gate staff having failed to re-seat them, the rear cabin crew who had been told to stop anyone sitting aft of row X, had also failed to deal with the situation.

Cue much chuntering and commotion and, inevitably, passengers appearing back through the curtain and taking Business Class seats. This seemed to faze the crew too, despite passengers plainly having been told to take any ‘available’ seat, until they finally relented. The insurgents were resignedly told that, whilst they could sit in Business, they would get Economy service. Fair enough, except when it ultimately came to it and as we’d already seen, the multiple assignments for the same seat, occupied seat showing available and therefore necessarily-reseated actual Business Class passengers meant that the crew couldn’t tell who’d paid to be at the front and who hadn’t.

The whole thing was rapidly shaping up to be a less than divine Kiwi comedy.

Our charming-but-by-now-somewhat-flustered FSM made announcements to say that all was now sorted, despite there being passengers standing around, no-sign of doors closing and the scheduled departure time becoming a feint and distant memory.

A quick and quiet word with him in the galley, in the hope that we would be just one over and that an offer of my willingness to take a jump-seat to get the lone remainder strapped in and the rubber off the tarmac, revealed that we were in fact still 4 over.

It therefore took a further wait for Qantas engineers to come onboard and remove a crew-rest screen, liberating enough seats for passenger use, to get us secured for take-off and a significantly delayed push-back.

At least, every now and again during the pre-departure stressing, the offer of a drink from the galley had been forthcoming.

Once aloft, service began and the sticky seats were investigated. FCC was horrified to find himself having to exert physical force against the first non-powered premium seat that he’s probably ever had the misfortune to fly in. In fact, he had to be quietly advised that it wasn’t broken, it was merely cheap. Not that it reclined all that far anyway, and the legrest would only support those whose limbs had been truncated mid-calf.

The personal TV screens for the on-demand system unfold from the armrest, although despite repeated prodding of the unresponsive touch screen, the system wasn’t working and had to be rebooted. Twice. When the crew eventually defibrillated it into life, it turned out to be rather less on-demand and more ‘on-beg’. A more dysfunctional interface could barely be conceived, made all the more frustrating by NZ’s obsession with practically the only Kiwi TV production to have achieved any international success: The Flight of The Conchords.

Apparently, the ‘stars’ of the show bill themselves as ‘Formerly New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo accapella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo.’ They may be right, but being forced to scroll through 42 full-page synopses of each featured episode before it’s possible to watch single showings of little-known offerings like The Simpsons or Fawlty Towers, renders them without a shadow of doubt ‘The World’s most annoying and obstructive act at altitude’. By the time I’d poked the screen 43 times to get to Homer, I’d lost all feeling in my index finger and much of my will to live.

Who’s ever heard of a simple menu system?

It’s enough to turn one to drink, so just as well that the bar approached (along with the confused crew trying to work out who was legit and who was a refugee from the rear). A swankily-labelled Cable Bay Pinot Noir proved a mistake, putting me in mind of the salad dressing employed by Air Canada, which in itself is strongly reminiscent of aviation jet fuel.

After three attempts (the crew in question repeatedly being about to put the plate down and then running away to the galley) a small bowl of undescribed canapes and nuts were presented, a linen cloth having been draped across the table first.

This stuttering service proved the norm throughout, from a crew who regularly seemed unsure of what they were doing, untrained in premium service, outfitted in uniforms that looked slightly paramilitary in hue and Primark in quality and, in the case of one crewmember, an inability to pronounce (simple) passenger names. Some people may like casual; I found it sloppy and hardly inspiring confidence that, in case of emergency (and despite the lack of associated signage) this crew would suddenly invigorate and deftly handle a life and death situation.

The meal service began with the sole possibility of a smoked salmon and crab parcel which, luckily, was very nice indeed. It arrived with a subtly-labelled pot of dressing….

A main course of, well, do you know what? I can’t remember. Fish, of some description, on pasta. With sweetcorn, as you can see. It’s at this point that I remember that there were no menus. Or wine lists. So, I can’t tell you what else I might have chosen from. I think it was steak, which would have been dandy with that plastic knife.

Notwithstanding that, I remember that the fish was tasty, and followed by a very refreshing but tasteless pre-scooped ice cream and then a really very good indeed cheese plate.

By that point, acutely aware that the time difference between Perth and Auckland would make this a longish flight through a very short night, I declined coffee or indeed any other service and tried to get some sleep. Which, on that form-over-function clammy leather seat, was pretty impossible. Eyes held shut, I prayed that the Tasman would pass beneath us swiftly and looked forward to feeling the drag of the landing gear being deployed.

When the tyres finally touched the tarmac, it was a short taxi to the terminal building, a time filled with profuse apology from the FSM for the delayed departure and arrival. A wheelchair and pusher were awaiting our appearance and it was the by-now customary expedited special-assistance progress through immigration to baggage reclaim. Priority labelling worked flawlessly again and we were then directed along a fast channel through the agriculture check and security and out into the fresh early-morning Auckland air.

Whereupon Hertz capped the overnight experience by pulling their usual trick of gifting an upgrade to some hapless early-morning European long-haul arrival, and with it the most lurid beast in their compound, aka The Snot…..

Final Verdict for Air New Zealand Business Class: 6.0/10. If the Qantas Club experience had followed through on board then this would have been a superb flight. As it was, an uncomfortable seat, desperately disorganised service, undrinkable wine and tedious IFE could not be compensated for by either the lounge, the pretty good onboard food or the valiant attempts of the Flight Service Manager to smooth over a shambolic operation. The stolen signage was far from NZ’s fault, but their inability to manage the situation was. Poor.

The Westin Auckland

In January 2005, the former Sheraton Hotel and Towers Auckland became the Langham Hotel and a member of the Leading Hotels of the World marketing construct. It marked the withdrawal of Starwood Hotels from the New Zealand market, the contract to operate the Sheraton Rotorua having already been relinquished some time earlier.

Two and a half years later however, in June 2007, Starwood returned with the opening of the ultra-modern, purpose-built, waterfront Westin Auckland Lighter Quay, which is now itself playing host to the pre-opening office of the forthcoming Westin Queenstown, in South Island. It would appear that something of a Starwood renaissance has begun in this corner of Asia Pacific.

Prior to our arrival, the hotel staff had already proved on-the-ball, picking up on the fact that two reservations had been made in my name, and politely checking that there hadn’t been an unintentional duplication. The General Manager of the Sheraton in Perth subsequently made contact with Auckland too, and a further pre-arrival email landed from another most helpful of Westin staff members. Indeed, by that point, a third booking had been made to accommodate the final member of our travelling troupe, who would be joining us in New Zealand, and our delightful Westin contact amended the latter booking to match the rate and amenities of the first two, organised adjacent rooms for us and booked a table for dinner in the hotel’s Q restaurant.

The only less than perfect arrangement, therefore, would be rolling up at the Hotel’s lobby in the lean, green, mean machine…..

The hotel is named after the dock basin alongside which it sits, a maritime development that failed in its aspiration to provide an efficient landing facility for cargoes brought into the Waitemata Harbour by bulk shipping, and then shuttled ashore using smaller, ‘lighter’ vessels.

It was an idea that had been successfully used in London but, in early 20^th Century Auckland, it failed to gain traction with the shipping lines, who boycotted it and demanded instead that the main wharves of the harbour be dredged sufficiently to allow their increasingly large vessels to berth without requirement for trans-shipment.

Lighter Quay was therefore one of the last parts of the original harbour basin to be developed, one of the first to be abandoned and then, again, one of the last in the immediate environs to be redeveloped as part of the 2000 Americas Cup-inspired regeneration of the wider Viaduct Basin area.

The 172-bedroomed Westin is arguably the corner-stone of this mixed-use commercial, leisure and residential redevelopment and it sits well within its surroundings – a modern and light-filled building, whose boundaries merge indistinctly into the adjacent apartment complexes which share an architectural theme.

It’s superbly easy to get to from the city’s motorway but, with little public parking in the vicinity, the hotel’s valet service is the most popular choice for arriving guests. For those who may have used an airport shuttle or taxi, there is also a near-permanent presence of private hire, executive-style cars on hand for those without a car to call their own.

Entering the lobby, with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking internal courtyards with shallow, geometric, ornamental pools, the clear intention is to create an atmosphere of calm modernity, in that distinctly millennial Western interpretation of Zen.

Despite our by-now traditional crack-of-dawn arrival, and the horror of the door staff in having to valet park The Snot, the check-in staff were bright, smart and delighted to confirm that one of our rooms was ready already – and that as the others were prepared, they’d let us know.

Within minutes, they’d also summoned up a wheelchair for GCC’s use.

The Harbour View rooms continued the theme of light-filled modernity from the public spaces downstairs. Different again from the grande-luxe of a St Regis or an earthy-toned Sheraton, these rooms are high-ceilinged with vast drapes and contrasting light and dark soft furnishings.

The entrance lobby to the room plays host to a wet bar with sink and cafetiere, the rooms themselves outfitted with the Westin Heavenly Bed and large LCD TV, and the bathrooms laid out in complimentary colour-scheme with a separate shower and deep bath.

From the shallow balcony, accessed through sliding doors and, indeed, from any part of the room, the view sweeps around the Lighter Basin, over the radar domes of million-dollar motor cruisers, up to the iconic Sky Tower and out towards the North Shore of Auckland City.

When the need arises though, that view can be comprehensively obliterated by excellent black-out curtains, and the beds certainly live up to their Heavenly branding. They had to, as by this point I’d developed a riotous headache, and complete darkness and bed were both my only and essential requirements.

Four hours later, and with a cranium that felt as though it had been scrubbed out with a rock and lots of sand, but no more like red hot pokers were being driven into it, I emerged into the sunshine again. Summoning the Falcon from the embarrassed valet, I headed back to the airport to collect our next guest, inbound from Sydney on Air New Zealand (concise report: no absent emergency exit sign, but similarly unimpressive service), who’ll from hereon in be known as NeighbourContinentalclub, or NCC.

Drawing up at the lobby entrance again, the staff had clearly agreed a military-style operation to remove the Ford Snot from the forecourt with remarkable rapidity, and we were met with doors and boot being opened with the parking brake barely yet applied, and us being ushered inside with enthusiasm.

The Snot was gone in seconds.

The second room had been prepared before I left and NCC’s was ready and waiting when we arrived back from the airport. Time for a chat and coffee in her room, before we headed down to the lobby lounge to meet with other friends and family for a late afternoon drink.

The bar service, emanating from the restaurant to one side, was friendly and efficient and another member of staff appeared to offer assistance in re-arranging furniture to accommodate the burgeoning throng.

The Viaduct Harbour area of Auckland isn’t short of dining options, but it had seemed like a sensible idea to book the hotel’s own restaurant for dinner, on the basis of a) convenience, b) hotel restaurants tending to be quite spacious and therefore conducive to family gatherings and c) good reviews.

Q turned out to be far better than merely an acceptable compromise; in fact, it was quite superb – albeit with no obvious gadgets or gizmos, Bonds or baddies.

The restaurant itself is internally clad in Mexican onyx marble, which is lit from behind to stunning effect:

Individual dining areas are translucently demarked by hanging curtains of fine chainlink and those floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the u-shaped space which itself surrounds the partially open kitchen.

The bar at the entrance to Q is rather small though, so we were quickly taken to our table, which looked out through the drawn-back doors on to the terrace outside, the marina and the Sky Tower.

Service from the French Maitre d’ and indeed all the staff, but especially a young Scottish waiter, was both friendly and professional. At first glance, the menu plays to the traditional strengths of New Zealand’s culinary stalwarts, but closer inspection and description from the knowledgeable staff reveals both creativity and imagination has been applied.

Amongst the party, the selections covered the menu fairly comprehensively and all were declared absolutely superb, which is quite a feat when playing to a multinational audience of three generations and a vegetarian.

The 2006 Syrah, from Craggy Range by the Tukituki River over on the East coast of New Zealand’s North Island, was an absolutely superb choice and was washed down well by all present. With delicious breads and amuse bouches to kick things off, and the twinkling lights of Auckland’s skyline to draw the evening to a close, it was a fine, fine place to dine together.

The Westin’s beds might have been Heavenly in their cosseting of their sated occupants overnight, but it was the devil’s own job to drag us from in the morning and prepare for yet another voyage – this time across the Hauraki Gulf by boat.

First though, Q welcomed us back for breakfast, which offered a good selection of buffet items from a presentation at that far end of the room where we had dined the previous evening, as well as an a la carte menu choice.

The restaurant, transformed from the atmospheric moodiness of the glowing marble the night before, was now light, bright and buzzing with both residents and non-residents preparing to begin their day. Indeed, tables were set up just outside the restaurant to the rear of the lobby quadrangle, such was the demand. The only less than wholly-positive observation that could be made throughout the breakfast service was that the provision of tea and coffee could have been slightly more prompt; staff were delighted to offer cappuccinos and lattes et al to order, but the express provision of heart-starter filter (which is so often craved) would be the icing on the cake.

Checking out of The Westin was the only unpleasant experience of the entire stay, and then only because it marked the end of it. The next beds upon which we would lay our heads were to be at a private rental property, the risks and uncertainties of which threw Starwood’s underlying consistency into sharp relief. Wholly different to the styles of either its Sheraton or St Regis cousins, this Auckland outpost had proved itself a slick but welcoming, stylish but comfortable haven for our first night in New Zealand. It augurs very well indeed for the Queenstown property when it launches, in March 2010.

It was a shame too that so few of the hotel's facilities had been enjoyed; the sophisticated gym, the stylish pool and the spa all went untested given the time available on this single-night stay.

The checkout process itself was swift and the accounts accurate; the staff as smart and courteous as everyone else we’d come into contact with. The queue for the small hotel café, Toast, was out of the door as we finally pulled away from the hotel forecourt, the door staff smiling broadly as they saw the back of The Snot for the last time.

Final Verdict for the Westin Auckland: 9.0/10. A real shame that this was just a one-night stay and that there was not more time to explore the hotel’s range of facilities, including the stylish lap pool, gym and spa. However, and for all the reasons discussed – the staff, the architectural style, the fixtures, fittings, furnishings and Q Restaurant - the Westin is the perfect place in which to cool your heels after a long haul flight. For longer-term visitors to Auckland, it’s also ideally located to explore both the sights and sounds of the city, whilst being a calm retreat in which to rejuvenate between bouts of touristing.