Ride of Your Life
What could be better than a luxury cycling trip on a sultry Mediterranean island. One where your biggest hero in the sport is right alongside you.
It’s a balmy afternoon, and I’m riding my bike around an idyllic island in the Mediterranean. I keep glancing at the cyclist next to me—partly to make conversation but also to check that he’s really Geraint Thomas, winner of two Olympic gold medals, three world championships and a Tour de France. I can’t quite believe my luck: I’m wheel to wheel with one of the sport’s greatest living athletes, and to top it off, he has a bruising hangover, enabling me to keep pace with him as if I were a pro. And yet, this extraordinary experience was not that hard to achieve.
Want to shoot hoops with Stephen Curry, have a kickabout with Lionel Messi or face a few fast bowls from Pat Cummins? Get ready to write a sizeable cheque. The opportunity to rub shoulders with your sporting heroes—whether as part of a fantasy-camp afternoon or, for truly unfettered access, by buying the teams they play for—comes neither easy nor cheap.
The exception, it seems, is cycling. Consider my recent long weekend on Ibiza with Thomas. I might also have joined Eddy Merckx, the Pelé of cycling and probably the greatest rider ever to have turned a pedal, or six-time Olympic gold medalist Sir Chris Hoy, or any one of a litany of elite athletes who have rolled out side by side with guests on a LeBlanq tour.
Founded by British former pro cyclist–turned-entrepreneur Justin Clarke, LeBlanq aims to provide superior holidays on two wheels and is part of an explosion of start-ups and buyouts in the multibillion-dollar luxury cycling space. It offers around a dozen itineraries each year, in regions with spectacular scenery—such as the Norwegian fjords and the Scottish Highlands—and particularly those with an oenological link, such as Champagne in France, Spain’s Rioja and Constantia Valley in South Africa. On each trip you’re guaranteed at least one titan of the sport, a luxury hotel as accommodation and a wellness program for those in attendance but not cycling. A superstar DJ may headline the post-ride party, and there’s always a celebrity chef providing nutrition more appealing than the vast quantities of rice that pros typically cram down during a race.
Richie Hopson
Before starting LeBlanq in 2020, Clarke built the Taste food festivals, which showcase the work of the best fine dining restaurants in 19 cities around the world (it has since been sold to IMG), and his contacts run as deep in gastronomy as in cycling: Michelin-starred chefs Nathan Outlaw and Angela Hartnett, among many others, have cooked for LeBlanq guests. And here gluttony is justified, with depleted riders needing to fuel up on all that sensational food after burning thousands of calories on the road and in preparation for the following day’s outing. Plus, assuming you don’t have too bad a hangover, alcohol is useful as an extra carbohydrate.
Cycling has always been a democratic, accessible, mass-participation sport. Its recent surge in popularity around the globe has been driven by its health and environmental benefits; and involvement also flourished during Covid shutdowns, when gyms were largely off-limits. The activity is almost unmatched in its ability to let you sustain a high heart rate and burn more calories for long periods, and its metronomic, meditative qualities have been shown to be good for your mental health as well: riding with friends is social; riding alone brings solace. But while the advantages of the sport are universal—and entirely unrelated to the price of your bike—those enthusiasts willing to spend can majorly amplify what can quickly become an addictive and all-consuming pastime. For example, while you can’t buy a current F1 car, you can purchase a bike nearly identical, save a few prototype parts, to that of a Tour de France winner. Or you can engage a custom builder to create a model tailored to your precise dimensions, colour preferences and specifications—like a Savile Row suit, but far more expensive. (An elite commissioned machine can run from around $15,000 to upwards of $40,000.) You can wear stylish cycling gear created by Sir Paul Smith while riding it (the British designer once aspired to compete professionally, before injuries sustained in a major accident derailed those ambitions and he moved into fashion). Beyond LeBlanq’s offerings, you can book other operator’s trips that let you pedal across frozen Mongolian lakes or the game reserves of Botswana’s Okavango Delta.
A recent analyst report estimates that the market for luxury cycling will increase by a third, to around $29 billion, over the next five years. The poster child for this booming sector is luxe clothing brand Rapha, founded in London in 2004; a private equity firm run by Walmart heirs Tom and Steuart Walton, themselves keen cyclists, bought a majority stake in 2017 for about $395 million. Similar deals continue. Last year, mining billionaire Ivan Glasenberg, another devotee, paid an estimated $383 million for controlling interest in high-end Italian bike brand Pinarello, a name as resonant to cyclists as Ferrari and Maserati are to motorists.
Despite the enmity that some (erroneously) perceive between those two tribes, the luxury car marques are eager to be part of the cycling surge: smart brands go where their customers are, and these customers are increasingly out on their bikes. Which explains why Aston Martin and Lotus each launched radical, innovative bikes—costing far more than even Geraint Thomas’s Tour-winning Pinarello—at the Rouleur Live cycling show in London late last year. And why, along with Rapha, Marqués de Riscal wine, Laurent-Perrier Champagne, InchDairnie Distillery and Bianchi bikes, both Aston Martin and Porsche have partnered with LeBlanq to provide the “team” cars that follow each group of riders with supplies and spare bikes.
In my 30 years as a journalist, this was the first time I needed to train for a story. I signed up to ride at LeBlanq’s event on the Spanish island of Ibiza alongside Thomas, who at 37 remains a contender for the great prizes of the sport, having only lost his lead in last year’s Giro d’Italia on the penultimate day. Just before flying to Ibiza, he announced that he would compete on billionaire Sir Jim Ratcliffe’s INEOS Grenadiers team for another two years.
Thomas is a world-class professional athlete performing at the pinnacle of one of the toughest endurance sports. I am, well, not. What on earth was I thinking, agreeing to ride with him? I’m 49. I’ve cycled semi-seriously since I was 12 and was a solid midrange finisher when I competed for a while in my teens; I gave up after realising that racing hurt, and that I was no good at it. Now, even with no trophy or purse at stake, I feared the humiliation of being “dropped”—parlance for getting left behind—not only by Thomas but by the hyper-alpha, ultra-fit bankers and lawyers I imagined to be the clientele at a LeBlanq event.
Andrew Grant
So I trained for three months, shedding more than five kilos and getting my power and pace up slightly. I thought I’d better upgrade my bike, too, so I called German maker Canyon, the Porsche of cycling, whose bikes I’ve owned for years. The Canyon folks saw my predicament, agreed that my eight-year-old model wouldn’t cut it, and instead loaned me an Ultimate CF SL Disc 8.0 Aero. It’s similar to the machine favoured by Thomas’s Tour rivals on the Movistar and Alpecin teams (the Aeroad CFR Di2, priced at about $15,000) and was the Financial Times’s “best race-oriented bike” of ’23, but at around $10,500 costs a lot less than his roughly $23,000 team Pinarello Dogma F. To quote Lance Armstrong, it’s not about the bike, but I figured I should take all the help I could get.
I needn’t have worried. I arrived at the beachfront Hotel Riomar in Santa Eulalia, which LeBlanq had taken over in its entirety, and immediately had the new bike whisked from me and brought to the secure service area, where LeBlanq’s mechanics checked it over, added a race-style plaque with my name and rider number under the seat, and hung it on the racks in the company of what was probably well over a million dollars’ worth of bikes that had been flown in from the US, the Middle East and Europe by the 120 other participants.
Andrew Grant
Inside the hotel I was handed my Rapha x LeBlanq team gear and a bag of energy bars, gels and drinks for the four days of cycling. So far, so pro. But then someone pressed a glass of Laurent-Perrier into my hand, and then someone else topped it up, and I began to realise that for all LeBlanq’s race-ready image, the reality might be a bit more like a fun run through Centennial Park—if you want it to be, anyway.
Riders are split into groups of 10 to 12 each based on ability and likely speed. Each is led by someone very experienced, often an ex-pro, who takes care of the directions and pace, with a support car following. For the short opening jaunt of around 30 km, I decided to roll with the gentlest squad, led by the effervescent former racer Monica Dew, who ensured that the members of her pleasingly mixed group never felt stretched. (The pros trade cohorts over the course of the weekend so everyone gets a moment to bask in their reflected glory.) There were participants of all ages and abilities, some wearing running shoes rather than the clip-in cleats favoured by the more hardcore, and some on battery-assisted e-bikes.
Andrew Grant
A significant part of the appeal of such events is the experience of riding in a peloton. Having others around you deflects headwinds, reducing the effort required to maintain a given speed by up to 40 percent. You find yourself being sucked along by the group, feeling like a pro, going faster than you ever could on your own while comfortably holding a conversation with the person next to you.
And what chats. Wearing the same bib is a great leveller, and the collaborative nature of a group ride means confidences are quickly shared. As well as the expected doctors, executives and pilots, I found myself moving with the founders and funders of tech firms, a world-leading cybersecurity expert, a man my age who’d had a heart attack just a year before, a couple who’d taken a previous LeBlanq trip for their honeymoon, and the arena-filling British DJ Pete Tong, perhaps best known for exporting house music to the world. Another turned out to be Nick Evans, managing partner of private equity firm Active Partners, chairman of Rapha, and the guy who gave luxury cycling its defining moment by brokering that $395 million sale to the Waltons.
The exchanges were so good and the concentration required to keep up in a fast, tight, well-disciplined group so intense that I needed to remind myself to look up and absorb the extraordinary scenery. Ibiza’s rural roads are mostly well surfaced and lightly trafficked. Temperatures in the mid 20s were perfect for cycling, and the air was scented with the pine needles that lay in piles at the edge of the road. There were few serious climbs—just enough to keep things interesting—and they often rewarded with a view over yet another deserted, pine-fringed beach and the azure Mediterranean beyond.
For non-riding partners or those taking a day off, Northern Irish TV sports presenter and former track-and-field athlete Orla Chennaoui had curated a comprehensive wellness program with sunrise yoga sessions, breath-work classes and restorative hikes through the local hinterland. But Ibiza is perhaps better known for the un-wellness programs of its nightlife, and a bit of that attitude permeated the LeBlanq trip, with some very well-lubricated after-ride fetes. My partner, Sophie, not a cyclist and there ostensibly for the yoga, got us on the guest list for the season-closing party at Pikes, Ibiza’s original boutique hotel and still a hedonist’s playground, in whose swimming pool Wham’s “Club Tropicana” video was filmed in 1983. I demurred, extremely reluctantly, as I was due to join a faster group for 160 km with Thomas the next day. My alarm was set for 6:45 a.m., and I didn’t want to wreck three months of training with one night of clubbing.
Richie Hopson
Thomas, however, did not decline. In a later interview with The Times in the UK, he admitted to having been drunk for 12 out of 14 nights during his brief post-season break from racing and training; we were responsible for two of those. He finally rolled back in from Pikes at 5 a.m., and a couple of LeBlanq guests gleefully claimed that they’d not only biked with their hero but shared a drunken dawn cab ride with him.
Despite the colossal respect he commands, he was given an amused, ironic, slow handclap when he appeared well past the start time that morning. But even when you know he has slightly disabled himself, there’s something eerie and disconcerting about standing in your kit astride your bike, ready to set off, when a world champion and Tour de France winner appears dressed in the same INEOS team uniform and those hallmark white shades you’ve watched him wear on television for years. Imagine standing by the side of your local swimming pool, putting on your goggles, and seeing Ian Thorpe appear in the lane next to you.
Again, I needn’t have worried. Usually a very funny, voluble, sometimes indiscreet character, Thomas was unusually quiet in the opening kays, hanging his head over his handlebars every time we stopped. “Oh Ben,” he sighed at one point, “what I did last night… I just don’t know if it was worth it.”
The conversation improved as his hangover cleared. He enjoys the lifestyle of a major sports star—the house in Monaco, fine taste in watches, and a Porsche 911 Turbo his wife bought him as a birthday present—but he remains connected to his Welsh roots and retains a surprising degree of impostor syndrome for a man who has won so much.
“I just take it for granted that I can come along and ride my bike in amazing places,” he told me as we pedalled. “But then you realise that people have paid a lot of money to do this, and it’s weird that they want to do this with me, even though I know I’ve won some stuff. But cycling’s always been accessible like that. You don’t need a ticket to watch the Tour de France. You can just stand by the side of the road and watch us ride past, and even touch us. When I was 14, I went to the Netherlands to watch a race. One of the big teams rode to the start line from their hotel, and me and my mates just rode with them. I’ll always remember that. And the thought of people wanting to do that with me now, it’s mind-blowing.”
Yes, well, same for those riding with Thomas. Even dozens of kilometres into the morning, it was still surreal to see those white shades centimetres away from me, and I admit that I asked for a selfie. I took some pride in the fact that he got out of the saddle when I did on climbs and also dropped down to his lowest gear. But then I noticed that, as we spoke, I was struggling to get my words out between breaths while “G” (as he’s universally known in the sport) might as well have been sitting in an armchair. “You could have raced me if you’d wanted to,” he told me later. “After that 5 a.m. finish, I’d have let you win.”
That night, our last, he’d recovered sufficiently to fully enjoy the long weekend’s premier party, held at a rooftop bar and pool with spectacular sunset views of the sea. Nieves Barragán Mohacho, the Michelin-starred head chef at London’s buzzy Spanish restaurant Sabor, had flown in with her brigade to give the crowd what they wanted: carbs, mainly, in the form of the perfect tortilla (there was one more ride to be done the next day) but also bluefin tuna loin and the most incredible acorn-fed bellota pork, marinated in sherry until it had acquired an almost beef-like colour and richness.
Then Pete Tong, who opened King Charles’s coronation concert and whose Ibiza Classics orchestral tour later played London’s O2 Arena, spun a private set for the hundred or so of us still up and boogying. For fans of Ibiza’s sun-soaked electronic dance music, this was a moment as seminal as riding with Thomas. I just couldn’t work out how, with all the cycling and dancing, I stepped on the scale when I got home and found I’d put half of those five kilos back on again.
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Omega Just Unveiled 9 Watches in Its New Constellation Observatory Collection
The line-up shows up a bevy of metals and colours, too, as well as two new calibres.
Omega’s latest watch is in a universe of its own.
The Swiss watchmaker just unveiled its new Constellation Observatory Collection today, the next step in its Constellation lineage and the first two-hand hour and minute timepieces to ever earn Master Chronometer certification. And if you were paying attention to any of the dazzling watches spotted at the Oscars this year, you would’ve caught a glimpse of the new line already: Sinners star Delroy Lindo rocked one of the models on the Academy Awards red carpet, giving us a pre-release preview of the collection.
Developed at Omega’s new Laboratoire de Précision (its chronometer testing lab open to all brands), the collection houses a set of nine 39.4 mm watches. The watches underwent 25 days of scrutiny there, analysed via a new acoustic testing method that recorded every sound emitted from the timepiece to track irregularities, temperature sensitivities, and more in the name of all things precision. (Details such as water resistance and power reserve are also thoroughly examined.) This meticulous process is all in the name of snagging that Master Chronometer label, meaning that the timepiece is highly accurate and surpasses the threshold for ultra-high performance. The Constellation Observatory Collection has now changed the game, though, thanks to its lack of a seconds hand.
“Until now, precision certification has required a seconds hand,” Raynald Aeschlimann, president and CEO of OMEGA, said in a press statement. “The development of a new acoustic testing methodology has made that requirement obsolete. It is this breakthrough that has enabled us to present the Constellation Observatory, the first two-hand watch to achieve Master Chronometer certification.”
In addition to notching its place in history, the collection also debuted a new pair of movements: the Calibre 8915 and the Calibre 8914, each perched on a skeletonised rotor base. The former’s Grand Luxe iteration will appear on the 950 Platinum-Gold model in the collection, which offers up that base in 18-karat Sedna Gold alongside a Constellation medallion in 18-karat white gold with an Observatory dome done in white opal enamel surrounded by stars. The second Calibre 8915, the Luxe, will find its home on the other precious-metal models in the line, either made with the brand’s 18-karat Sedna, Moonshine, or Canopus gold seen across the case, the hand-guilloché dial, and, of course, the movement itself. (Lindo chose to rock the Moonshine Gold on Moonshine Gold iteration, priced at approximately $86,000, for Sinners‘s big night at the Oscars.) As for the Calibre 8914, it can be found in the collection’s four steel models.
Each model is a callback to myriad design features on past Omega models. That two-hand dial, for one, comes from the 1948 Centenary (the brand’s first chronometer-certified automatic wristwatch), while the pie-pan dial (seen in various blue, green, and golden hues throughout the line) and that Constellation medallion caseback both appear on watches from 1952. The star adorning the space above 6 o’clock also harks back to 1950s timepieces from Omega. And to finish off the look, you can opt for alligator straps in a variety of colours, or perhaps a gold iteration to match the precious-metal models; the brick-like pattern on the 18-karat Moonshine bracelet was also inspired by Omega watches from the ’50s.
We’ll have to keep our eyes peeled for any other Constellation Observatory timepieces (or any other unreleased models from the brand) at the rest of the star-studded events headed our way this year—perhaps the Met Gala?
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Best Combustion Supercar: Ferrari 12Cilindri Spider
A modern classic in the making, combining naturally aspirated power with elegant restraint to deliver performance that feels as refined as it is visceral.
In a year when carmakers of all persuasions sheepishly extended hyperbolic electric targets, it’s fitting that the monastic puritans of Maranello—who, lest we forget, won’t finally yield to the sin of battery power until October with the Elettrica—opted to make combustion their major power play.
As an uncertain future of AI omnipresence barrels towards us, the 12Cilindri—an analogue, open-topped tribute to Ferrari’s late-’60s/early-’70s grand tourer, the Daytona—represents a defiant fade into the past, a pause for breath, a fleeting return to The Good Times when nascent technology provoked excitement rather than existential dread.
Guiding this automotive nostalgia trip is, as the nomenclature suggests, a naturally aspirated 6.5-litre V12 engine, generating an unceasing wave of power as it sears towards the 9,500 rpm redline with relative nonchalance. That’s because the 12Cilindri is not a mouth-foaming attack-dog. It scales performance heights with the refinement of the finest Italian works of art; its “Bumpy Road” mode facilitates comfy al fresco GT cruising, and even the imperious powerplant is mannerly at most speeds.
For all the yesteryear romance, progressive technologies and engineering, such as a world-class 8-speed transmission, advanced electronic aids and independent four-wheel steering, are baked into the deal. The 12Cilindri’s clean, stark design somehow toggles between retro and modern; and while vaguely polarising, one can’t ignore its magnetic road presence.
In terms of aesthetics, Ferrari describes the 12Cilindri as being “ready for space”; in many ways, a fantasy vehicle that transports users to another dimension is probably what the world needs right now.
The Numbers
Engine: 6.5-litre V12
Power: 610kW
Torque: 678 Nm
Transmission: 8-speed dual-clutch auto
0-100 km/h: 2.95 seconds
Top speed: 340 km/h
Price: From $886,800
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Inside Loro Piana’s First Sydney Boutique
A first Australian address brings the Italian house’s textile-led approach to retail full circle.
On the fourth floor of Westfield Sydney, near the Castlereagh and Market Street entrance—in the space formerly occupied by Chanel—Loro Piana has opened its first Australian boutique. It is a significant address change for that corner of the mall, and a meaningful one for the Italian house, which has sourced Australian merino wool for decades but until now had no retail presence here.
The facade is understated—creamy, tactile, more about texture than theatre. Inside, the store unfolds across a single, expansive level divided into distinct men’s and women’s wings. The separation is clear without being heavy-handed: womenswear leads from soft accessories and leather goods into ready-to-wear, while menswear occupies its own assured territory, with tailoring and outerwear given proper breathing room. Footwear (supple loafers, luxurious slides, pared-back sneakers) is particularly strong, and the sunglasses are a quiet standout: mineral-toned frames with a disciplined elegance that feels entirely of the house.
That same restraint carries into the interiors, where the surfaces do much of the talking. Walls are wrapped in the company’s own linen and cashmere; carpets are custom, dense underfoot, softening the acoustics and the pace. Oak and carabottino wood add warmth without fuss; marble accents introduce a cool counterpoint. The effect is a composed space calibrated around material, proportion and restraint.
The Spring 2026 collection now in store underscores that sensibility. Silhouettes are elongated and fluid; cashmere, silk and featherweight merino move in sandy neutrals, creams and muddied earth tones, with flashes of marigold and pale turquoise breaking the calm. Tailoring is softly structured and projects confidence without aggression. Leather goods arrive in buttery skins that feel almost pre-lived, as though time has already worked its magic.
What distinguishes Loro Piana, particularly in a market that has grown noisier by the season, is its refusal to perform luxury in an obvious register. There are no oversized insignias telegraphing allegiance. Instead, the status is encoded in fibre count, in hand-feel, in how a coat hangs from the shoulder. It assumes the wearer knows and, crucially, does not need to announce it.
Sydney’s luxury landscape has matured in recent years; global houses no longer test the waters but commit to them. Yet Loro Piana’s arrival feels different. It is not trend-driven expansion but material logic. For a country whose sheep stations have long contributed to the house’s fabric story, this boutique reads almost as a thank-you note written in cashmere.
Photography: Courtesy of Loro Piana.
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Field Guide
From nubby tweeds to supple shearlings, the season’s most exciting menswear is as richly textured as the forests, mountain and lakes surrounding Switzerland’s Gstaad Palace.
Above: Zegna wool and cashmere coat, price upon request; Caruso wool-flannel jacket, $2,615; Tod’s wool and silk turtleneck, price upon request; Dolce & Gabbana wool-tweed trousers, price upon request; Brunello Cucinelli calfskin belt, $1,315; Paul Smith sheepskin gloves, $420.
Above: Caruso wool overcoat, $3,420; Boglioli wool-flannel jacket, $2,305, wool and cashmere sweater, $1,125, and wool-flannel trousers, $1,005; Tod’s calfskin belt, $1,025; Zegna buffalo-leather moccasins, $2,005.
Above: Massimo Alba wool-tweed jacket, $2,315; Moncler Polartec turtleneck, $835; Tod’s suede backpack, $5,230; Alonpi cashmere blanket, $2,805.
Above: Prada suede and shearling coat, $16,705, wool sweater, $3,325, and wool trousers, $3,045.
Above: Loro Piana dark-camel Rain System cashmere jacket, $8,765, greige Rain System cashmere vest, $7,055, greige cashmere crewneck, $4,635, and brown wool trousers, $2,565; Brunello Cucinelli saddle-brown calfskin boots, $2,330.
Above: Aspesi wool and cashmere field shirt, $1,260; Sacai wool trousers, $1,190; Brioni wool and cashmere tie, $420; Loro Piana x Le Chameau rubber boots, $2,240; Paul Smith sheepskin gloves, $420; Alonpi cashmere blanket, $2,805.
Above: Tod’s wool mockneck sweater, $2,615; AMI viscose shirt, $625; Ralph Lauren Purple Label wool-twill trousers, $1,125; Patek Philippe Annual Calendar Ref. 5960P watch, $68,000, available at Phillips in association with Bacs & Russo, Gstaad Palace; Zegna acetate and metal sunglasses, $645.
Above: Hermès shearling jacket, $33,425, calfskin overshirt, $15,010, cashmere and silk turtleneck, $3,435, and wool-gabardine trousers, $1,630; Chopard Alpine Eagle 41 watch, $21,950.
Above: Ralph Lauren Purple Label brown wool-twill sport coat, $4,245, and trousers, $1,125, cream cotton shirt, $845, and brown wool-flannel tie, $335.
Above: Louis Vuitton wool coat and wool trousers, prices upon request; Aspesi wool and cashmere sweater, $625.
Above: Brunello Cucinelli alpaca, virgin-wool and cashmere cardigan, $7,795, silk and cotton jersey shirt, $1,630, cotton and virgin-wool trousers, $2,270, and calfskin belt, $1,320; Canali cashmere and silk blazer, $5,380; Brioni wool and cashmere tie, $420.
Above: Moncler cream, brown and black mélange carded-wool sweater, $2,030, and brown ski trousers in 2L tech corduroy with RECCO reflector system, $2,765; Chopard L.U.C Quattro Mark IV watch, $57,295.
Model: Oriol Elcacho Miro
Grooming: Cristina Crosarastyle
Editor: Naomi Rougeau
Market and sittings editor: Simone Fantuzzi
Photo director: Irene Opezzo
Photo assistant: Ead Gjergji
Production: Monica Poli/
Assistant: Lorenzo Borboni
Casting: Bronson Vajda
Location: Special thanks to Gstaad Palace
Coldfocus Production
Photographed by Eduardo Miera
Styled by Alex Badia
This article appears in the Autumn issue 2026 of Robb Report Australia New-Zealand. Click here to subscribe.
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The Best Under-the-Radar Wineries in Australia
From Tasmania to Margaret River, these sommelier-approved cellar doors reward those willing to venture beyond the usual маршруits.
In wine, as in travel, the most rewarding experiences are rarely found by following the crowd. They require curiosity, a little effort, and more often than not, the right recommendation.
As luxury travel continues its shift from spectacle to substance, many of Australia’s most compelling cellar doors remain largely undiscovered—known chiefly to sommeliers, bar managers and restaurateurs whose reputations hinge on what makes it into your glass. Ask them which wineries they’d drive past the big names to visit, the producers they seek out for themselves, the bottles they champion without fanfare, and a different map of Australian wineries emerges.
The following vineyards represent the new vanguard of homespun viniculture; the places worth planning a journey around; the cellar doors that justify a deliberate detour.
Stargazer Wines, Tasmania
When asked where he would go if he had just a single recommendation to give, Al Robertson— owner of Hobart’s legendary pocket-sized wine bar Sonny—doesn’t hesitate. “One word,” he says. “Stargazer.”
Run by Samantha Connew, one of the most respected and hard-working winemakers in the country, Stargazer has quietly become one of Tasmania’s most compelling small-batch producers, crafting finely tuned wines that emphasise purity, texture and a strong sense of place. “She makes gorgeous wines,” Robertson adds. “The riesling in particular—limey, mineral and razor-sharp—is perfect with local goat’s curd or seafood.”
There’s also the Rada red, a cult favourite at Sonny. Served lightly chilled, it’s a true sommelier’s wine—bright, savoury and surprisingly versatile, especially with tomato-heavy pasta or dishes rich with cheese.
Opened in late 2025, Stargazer’s bookings-only cellar door is a short 30-minute drive from central Hobart, tucked into the idyllic Coal River Valley, not far from award-winning Tassie icons Pooley and Tolpuddle. Tastings are deliberately intimate—capped at around 12 guests—unfolding beneath vast skies and among rows of chardonnay and pinot noir, the landscape proving as memorable as the wine in your glass.
The region’s accommodation is as compelling as its wine. While the capital and surrounds brim with beautifully curated stays, few rival Saffire Freycinet—the east coast’s all-inclusive masterpiece, consistently crowned among the world’s finest hotels. Perched above spectacular Wineglass Bay, its immersive, nature-led experiences—from private plunge pools to bespoke foraging dinners and oyster-inspired spa rituals—make the two-and-half-hour drive feel entirely worthwhile.
“Tastings are deliberately intimate, unfolding beneath vast skies… the landscape proving as memorable as the wine in your glass.”
Glenarty Road, Margaret River, Western Australia
It’s impossible to talk about Western Australian wine without mentioning Margaret River—but even within this celebrated region, there are still places that reward those willing to go a little further.
“You’ve got to visit Glenarty Road,” urges Samuel Cocks, bar manager at Sydney’s world-renowned Saint Peter. Their Wildlings Savagnin is the “standout” wine he keeps coming back to, a variety rarely seen in Australia, let alone Margaret River. Textural, savoury and quietly complex, it’s a reminder that this popular region still has room to surprise.
Set on a working farm, Glenarty Road feels deeply connected to its surroundings. Sheep, pigs, cattle and sprawling vegetable gardens all feed into an experience that’s as much about food as it is wine. “Some of the best food I’ve had in WA is served here,” Cocks says, much of it sourced directly from the property. He’s not alone. WA food critics have consistently ranked it among Margaret River’s strongest dining experiences.
Beyond the usual cellar-door format, “Vino in the Vines” unfolds as a guided walk through the vineyard, with up to 10 wines matched to seasonal farm produce, house-made charcuterie and freshly baked bread. It’s immersive, generous and thoughtfully paced; closer to a curated gastronomic experience than a casual tasting.
Located further south along the coast, away from the Yallingup bustle, Glenarty Road demands a longer drive, but it’s one serious food-and-wine travellers deem essential. On the return, retreat to Cape Lodge—Margaret River’s grande dame of luxury digs—a lakeside estate of manicured gardens, private suites and a dining room that has long set the regional standard.
For those wanting to stay closer to Perth, Swan Valley endures as a local staple. Compact, historic, yet quietly evolving, Cocks describes it as, “Probably one of Australia’s hottest regions.” One local pearl is Vino Volta, an experimental, modern producer focusing on Swan Valley hero varietals like chenin blanc and grenache. Its sparkling wines, easy-drinking reds and whites, and decadent fortified verdelho have earned a loyal following among Aussie sommeliers.
Krinklewood Estate, Hunter Valley, New South Wales
Just over two hours north of Sydney, in the Broke Fordwich sub-region of the Hunter Valley, Krinklewood offers one of the region’s most transportive cellar-door experiences. Family-owned and farmed organically and biodynamically for decades—long before it became a marketing hook—the estate feels worlds away from the busier Pokolbin circuit. Its Provençal-inspired gardens, sun-drenched courtyard, olive groves, fountains and roaming peacocks create an atmosphere that encourages indulgent lingering.
The wines are elegant and restrained: verdelho, semillon, chardonnay and shiraz, all made with a light touch. A trattoria-style kitchen on site turns out simple seasonal plates and cheese boards, designed to complement rather than compete with the wines.
Make a night of it in one of the estate’s Scandi-inspired lodges—minimalist, timber-clad, with outdoor baths under open skies—or check into Tower Lodge in Pokolbin, among the Hunter’s most exclusive retreats. Dinner is best taken at Muse, a two-hatted stalwart that has long anchored the area’s fine-dining scene.
Nearby, Running Horse Wines is worth a stop for something altogether more idiosyncratic. Headed up by former jockey Dave Fromberg, the cellar door is unique in every sense of the word. Rustic and striking, it’s built from six elevated shipping containers overlooking the vineyard. Tastings here are informal, personal and unhurried—more conversation than ceremony—with Fromberg himself often pouring and storytelling in equal measure. The glass bench-top doubles as a showcase, lit from below so that the colours of Dave’s wines—especially the deep, layered tones of his aged shiraz—can be fully admired.
Bekkers Wine, McLaren Vale, South Australia
Among serious drinkers, Bekkers has achieved near-mythic status. The tiny, family-run label is the work of respected viticulturist Toby Bekkers and his French-trained winemaker wife Emmanuelle. Together, they focus on refined, fine-wine expressions of grenache and syrah—deliberately resisting the heavier, more obvious styles McLaren Vale is often known for.
Production is ultra-small, often just a few hundred to around a thousand cases a year, with most bottles snapped up via allocation lists or poured at a handful of top-tier restaurants. That makes a visit to their appointment-only cellar door a rare opportunity to experience the wines at the source, guided by the people who make them.
Round out your SA trip with a night at The Louise, located north in the Barossa—a vineyard-encircled retreat that has quietly become one of Australia’s most enduring luxury addresses.
“Provençal-inspired gardens, sun-drenched courtyard, fountains and roaming peacocks create an atmosphere that encourages indulgent lingering.”
Wild Dog Winery & Entropy, Gippsland, Victoria
Two hours east of Melbourne, the landscape begins to shift. The air cools, the roads narrow, the vineyards are fewer, and more scattered. Gippsland has long existed at the periphery of Victoria’s wine consciousness, but those paying attention know something is changing.
“The Wild Dog Winery just south of Warragul gets my vote,” says Dave Verheul, owner of Melbourne’s Embla and cult vermouth label Saison—a figure whose palate has helped shape the city’s modern wine scene. “It’s home to winemakers like William Downie and Patrick Sullivan, but what Ryan Ponsford is making under the Entropy label is very, very special.”
Set high in the hills, Wild Dog Winery is less a single estate than a quiet epicentre for some of the country’s most thoughtful winemaking. Among them, Ponsford’s Entropy Wines stands apart. His 2024 cabernet is elegant, restrained and evocative of place in a way that feels both unmistakably Australian and entirely its own. Tastings unspool without theatre, the focus squarely on the wine and the landscape that shaped it. “The added bonus,” Verheul notes, “is being able to dine at Hogget Kitchen, one of regional Victoria’s best restaurants.”
For those willing to venture beyond the familiar, Gippsland offers the rare pleasure of discovery in real time, a dominion whose best bottles are still shared more often by word of mouth than by map. Indeed, the most memorable Australian wine experiences share a common thread: they reward the curious over the merely well-travelled. Because in the end, the best wine journeys rarely follow the most direct route. And the memories—the flavours, the landscapes, the stories—are all the richer for it.
This article appears in the Autumn issue 2026 of Robb Report Australia New-Zealand. Click here to subscribe.
