Back when I was on my L-plates – 1993 that would be – I drove from Sydney’s south-western suburbs to the Blue Mountains in Mum’s old XC Falcon. The combination of my inexperience, heavy traffic and heavier steering made it a long and arduous (if beneficial) driving lesson.

Roll forward 15 years and I’m in a BA Falcon with power steering and air conditioning. I’m also cruising along a wondrous thing called the M7. It takes me from Moorebank to the foot of the Mountains in half an hour, encumbered by just one traffic light – and that’s en route to the motorway. 

My fiancé Kellie is with me and we’re on our way to an overnight stay at Broomelea, a bed and breakfast in Leura. B&Bs are abundant in the Blue Mountains (a testament to the area’s modern accessibility) and becoming more so, with many late 19th and early 20th Century dwellings currently being refurbished. Leura is without doubt the tourist epicentre – no matter what time of year you drive down The Mall (its main street), the shops and cafés are teeming with visitors.

The Mountains, with their alpine climate, have also become a popular spot to celebrate Christmas in July – but we arrive in October. This is not without its compensations, however, as the tall deciduous trees that line the main street in Leura are fully clothed in bright green leaves. We run this picturesque gauntlet and pull up at Broomelea, which is quite unassuming and could easily be overlooked as a private residence if not for the sandwich-board sign that marks its entrance.

We take our bags through the small archway and up the garden path to the front door. Even now Broomelea still looks like a home rather than accommodation. We ring the doorbell and our hosts Bryan and Denise show us to our room. We drop our bags and Denise hands us the key – a key that is, I suspect, older than my grandfather (he’s 91 next year). No Magcards here.

The room also speaks of the building’s vintage: cornice swirls across the vaulted ceiling; Holland blinds perch above large sash windows; an ornate chandelier hangs down like crystal fruit; and there’s a bona fide fireplace with a generous hearth. It’s also furnished in keeping with the theme: a queen-sized bed with canopy, dark-stained bedside cabinets, wardrobes and dressing tables that look like they could withstand an atomic blast, and – Kellie’s favourite – a toilet light that switches on and off with a pull-cord.

There’s a definite sense of being at grandma’s house – at least until we enter the bathroom. Here the room snaps into the 21st Century with a corner spa, heated towel rail and modern sinks and fixtures.

Once we’ve absorbed what our room has to offer, we turn the crazy-big key in the lock and walk up to Leura’s town centre. For those who view shopping as a leisure activity (women), Leura’s shops are an experience unlike any other. But even as a man it’s not hard to be swept up in their charm. On the outside, The Mall looks like any other small town strip, but between the restaurant and café frontages are hidden entrances that lead back to cute little arcades. Knick-knacks are a specialty, but it’s not your usual tourist junk – and there’s also a healthy variety, everything from candle shops to art galleries.

Many stores were once residences, as well, and give the impression of being small from the outside but are in fact multi-level, their windows presenting splendid views of the surrounding bushland. Guest books are also common and in these I discover what an international attraction Leura is: on one page alone I see comments from England, America, France and the Sunshine Coast in Queensland.

We stop off at Leura Barmans to pick up some wine to go with our evening meal and I’m taken aback at the astonishing beer selection. Dan Murphy’s has nothing on this place – blindfold yourself, stick a pin in a map of the world and you can bet Leura Barmans has a beer originating from that country. Its wine list is none too shabby, either, although we refrain from going downstairs where you can burn a week’s wage on a vintage if the mood strikes you.

Leura also has quite a selection of restaurants – we investigate Chinese, Italian and French before we settle on Bon Ton. It might sound Asian, but it’s actually modern Australian and goes from a relaxed semi-pub feel during the day to fine dining at night. The dessert menu is a revelation. Kellie has the Belgium waffle with hazelnut praline ice cream. I order the bread and butter pudding and the serving is roughly the size of an aircraft carrier. Delicious though it is, I give up about half way through.

We return to Broomelea and make good use of the spa. We then head out to the lounge area, where there are collections of books and DVDs available to guests. Each room has a DVD player and Kellie insists on picking a romantic comedy. We put it on and hop into bed. She’s asleep in about ten minutes. I persist with the movie for a further ten minutes and then switch over to TV before drifting off myself.

We wake the next morning and take breakfast in the petite dining room across the hall. It has a definite Fawlty Towers vibe, although thankfully our host (a friend who is taking care of the place while Bryan and Denise are away for the day) does not channel Basil. In fact he’s the opposite – friendly and courteous and attentive to our every need. We have cereal and toast and croissants with ham and cheese and yoghurt and tea and coffee. You don’t leave Broomelea on anything but a full stomach.

We begin the drive back down to Sydney. It’s a 36ºC day and I wonder what a winter experience in Leura would be like – especially in front of a cosy wood fire in the charming Broomelea. Perhaps those who celebrate Christmas in July are onto something…

For more information on Broomelea, call 4784 2940 or visit broomelea.com.au.

To learn more about Leura and its attractions, visit leurabluemountainsguide.com.

Open Road e-zine December 2008

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