Who we Are: Charlotte Hardy and Ben Cooke Dan Aubin Olivia Baker and Nathan Trethewey

‘Having two brands really is a creative outlet for both of us, so we can both do things that we want to do with the wines instead of maybe battling each other for control.’

Separate but together WHO WE ARE: Charlotte Hardy and Ben Cooke

Story by Kate Le Gallez. Photography by Aise Dillon.

The little shack in Goolwa’s south that Charlotte Hardy and Ben Cooke now call home is unassuming, despite its unexpected profile.

You might describe it as fusion home design, with the exterior sampling liberally from different styles, the Tudor-esque half-timbered exterior meets seventies Australia under a gambrel-style roof. Somehow, the overall vibe suggests the house would be more at home in the snow than by the sea.

They discovered the place on one of their many trips to Goolwa from their former home in Basket Range in the Adelaide Hills, chasing pipis for an after work wind down. At the time, both Charlotte and Ben were working as consultants in the wine industry as well as getting their own individual labels off the ground. Charlotte launched Charlotte Dalton Wines in 2015 (to limit confusion with the Hardys, no relation, she uses her middle name) while Ben collaborates with his two brothers on Cooke Brothers Wines, started in 2016. It was a spur of the moment decision: ‘[we] just thought, who doesn’t want a ski chalet at the beach?’ says Charlotte. ‘Especially one that’s falling down,’ Ben deadpans in return. ‘It is falling to pieces, we can’t open windows or anything at the moment,’ Charlotte agrees. ‘But that’s fine, we’re much happier than we’ve ever been.’

For a while the couple, now with baby Ada in tow, continued their frequent pilgrimages from the Hills. But for Charlotte, who grew up in New Zealand near the beach, and Ben, who grew up in Murray Bridge and had been heading to Goolwa for as long as he could remember, it was a fait accompli they would eventually move there.

Having both lost a parent early, their decision is a conscious commitment to building a lifestyle that suits them and their young family. And while the Hills gave them a lot both personally and professionally, the draw of the coast eventually won out. And so, with their second child Sammy on the way, they headed south in November 2018. ‘We just couldn’t keep away anymore, we just had to move down here,’ says Charlotte. Moving to the Fleurieu has meant creating not just one new home, but two. Thoughts had been percolating on establishing a winery and cellar door for a while, but the idea really took hold over a coffee at De Groot. ‘We said I wonder if there are any sheds in here?’ recalls Charlotte, referring to Port Elliot’s Factory 9. And so, in a timeline that belies most commercial realities, they first exchanged emails with Factory 9 owners Danny and MaryAnn McMahon in May, commenced their lease in July and the cellar door opened in November.

Housed in The Joinery, the space will be home to both labels with the winery out the back and cellar door up front, the two businesses operating separately and yet inextricably linked by familial connections and practical necessity. ‘I don’t know of any other partners who have their own individual labels in the same place,’ says Charlotte. ‘Especially because they were definitely started very independently. We’ve never worked in the same winery before.’

This separate-but-together approach gives each of them the independence they desire within a supportive net that will see them ‘work for each other’ during the inevitable busy times over vintage. ‘Having two brands really is a creative outlet for both of us, so we can both do things that we want to do with the wines instead of maybe battling each other for control,’ explains Ben. ‘We definitely bounce ideas off each other, but we’ve still got final say on our own wines.’ There’s also the brutal honesty only partners can get away with. ‘You know you’re getting the full story. And it’s really nice to have that,’ says Charlotte.

The cellar door itself is neutral territory, adopting neither the whimsical style of Charlotte’s brand, nor the black-and-white definitiveness of Ben’s. Vintage furniture sits comfortably next to the timber cladding, once a dancefloor, which now shows off its paint-splattered underside against bright azure blue walls. The collected feel seems a fitting response to The Joinery’s rich and varied history that includes stints as a furniture factory and artist David Bromley’s studio (there’s a couple of his originals still hanging out the back.) ‘I just want to open it and get people in to come and hang out with us. I don’t care if they even buy wine to begin with,’ says Charlotte. ‘Just come and have a drink.’ Invitation accepted.

‘I’m an equilibrialist, I’m a handstand artist, I’m a balancer and I’m also a person who has had to re-find balance in their life in quite dramatic ways.’

Striking the balance WHO WE ARE: Dan Aubin

Story by Kate Le Gallez. Photography by Aise Dillon.

The night before I meet Dan Aubin, he gave a talk at the Victor Harbor Rotary Club that ended in a handstand.

Not your standard guest speaker move, but it’s become Dan’s signature. ‘I’m playing with the idea that a handstand is a symbol for people to be able to turn their lives upside down or see the world differently,’ he tells me. Far from being a speaking circuit gimmick, handstands have shaped Dan’s life. From childhood trauma, to a global acrobatic career and now as founder of Daring Humans, Dan’s physicality has quite literally been about bringing balance to his life.

Canadian-born Dan now calls Victor Harbor home, together with his wife Peta Johnston and their two children. It’s a far cry from his ‘wild, tumultuous upbringing’ with his mother, grandmother and younger brother on the opposite side of the globe. That upbringing was suddenly stolen away when, between the ages of eight and fourteen, Dan lost all of the most important adults in his life, including his mother, his grandparents and his absent father. His retelling is matter of fact: ‘within a span of five years, everybody just disappeared.’

He was heading down a dark path when his Aunt Suzanne intervened. She introduced Dan to gymnastics ‘and it just landed me in my body. And when I was doing a handstand or a flip or had a full body engagement, I couldn’t think about all the other things. You were so present,’ he says. It was by no means an immediate fix, but it changed Dan’s life. ‘I started to learn about hard work and achievement. And I started to really find a way to balance out,’ he says. ‘I’m an equilibrialist, I’m a handstand artist, I’m a balancer and I’m also a person who has had to re-find balance in their life in quite dramatic ways.’

His love – and obvious talent – for gymnastics and the focus it brought his life meant he did things he never thought he would, attending university before travelling the globe in an acrobatic troupe for six years. One of the stops on his world tour was Thailand, where he met ‘a beautiful girl from Adelaide’: Peta. After some international to-ing and fro-ing, the couple moved to Australia. It was an inflection point for Dan professionally, as he moved away from performing and into leadership roles, including as CEO and Artistic Director at Adelaide’s Cirkidz (now the South Australian Circus Centre) and then as a lecturer in Charles Sturt University’s innovative theatre media program in Bathurst.

At Charles Sturt, Dan began to think more deeply about being a ‘daring human’ – about the importance of taking chances and risks in pursuit of growth. It meant another big shift – this time at home. The couple agreed Peta would return to full time work after she landed a dream job in Victor Harbor, having worked and studied part time while their children were small. In a ‘magnificent shift,’ Dan took on the primary stay-at-home parent role and planned to work on his business – Daring Humans, which offers coaching and workshop facilitation to think differently – from the family’s new home on the Fleurieu.

Life in Victor has challenged Dan to explore what it means for him personally to be a daring human, in unexpected ways. Arriving with plans to accelerate his business, he’s instead found himself giving much of his time to the Victor gymnastics club, as president. The club, which started in the 1940s, was on the brink of closing before being resurrected by volunteers, who now include Dan. ‘It just became a complete passion,’ he says. And while he initially felt some internal tension between his business goals and his role at the club, he now feels he’s on the right path: ‘I came to this lovely serene place where I had so much purpose and meaning doing something that was voluntary but had huge impact.’

While his involvement in the gymnastics club has brought work to Daring Humans, it’s also made Dan think about how to engage more in the community, prompting him to join the 2019 Fleurieu Future Leaders program. ‘A lot of my life has been about me as a performer and about me connecting and now I’m shifting to try to explore what it is to connect other people,’ he muses. ‘I’m at a crossroads now, like I am most weeks, reflecting on why am I here in this place, on the Fleurieu, and what’s my part in it all.’ So aside from daring himself to be the best partner and father he can be, he’s now also thinking about how he can be a community builder. For now, it’s all in the balance.

‘We really didn’t know whether it would work unless I moved here,’ says Olivia. ‘Because every time I came here it was like a holiday, and it wasn’t really reality.’

From farm to property WHO WE ARE: Olivia Baker and Nathan Trethewey

Story by Kate Le Gallez. Photography by Heidi Lewis.

When I first speak to Olivia Baker and Nathan Trethewey, it’s hard to ignore the obvious cliché in the room. And it’s not their pet kangaroo, Skippy, who, after being hand-raised now sleeps with the dog in her kennel.

Olivia, a concert pianist from Adelaide, and Nathan, a fifth-generation farmer born and raised on Kangaroo Island, are the classic pairing: city woman meets country bloke. But the story they’re creating together doesn’t follow anyone’s script but their own.

The couple first met online in October 2017 and just seven months later, Olivia and her eight-year-old son Levi moved to the Island, joining Nathan and his two children, twelve-year-old Colton and fourteenyear-old Scarlett on Nathan’s property, Eleanor Downs, just outside Parndana in the middle of Kangaroo Island. ‘We really didn’t know whether it would work unless I moved here,’ says Olivia. ‘Because every time I came here it was like a holiday, and it wasn’t really reality.’

That reality looks very different to Olivia’s pre-KI life. Based in Glenelg when she first met Nathan, Olivia’s work as a pianist and in arts and community development had taken her around the world from the United Kingdom and Africa to Arnhem Land. Nathan also lived interstate and overseas including a stint as a ringer in the Kimberley. At 21 he bought his first farm, before he sold up to buy his parents’ property a few years ago when it came time for his dad to ‘semi-retire.’

Returning to Eleanor Downs means continuing an important family legacy for Nathan. His grandfather was allocated the land under the World War II soldier settlement scheme. Both his grandfather and father ran stock on the land, but Nathan and Olivia are now exploring what the land can do, not only as a farm but as a communal place. Alongside continuing the stock business, they’re renovating the property’s two residences: the original early 1950s soldier settlement cottage where they currently live but will soon offer as holiday accommodation, and the similar-era homestead where they’ll live post-renovation. Add to that a new airstrip which not only allows Nathan to fly his Cessna 182 back to the mainland, but will also welcome fly-in visitors who might glamp in the bell tent near the airstrip or stay in the settlement cottage.

The airstrip offers an important physical link to Olivia’s friends and relatives, but technology also helps limit the isolation; she even teaches piano over video call. Then there’s the links to local community. The whole family’s involved in the Parndana football and netball clubs – Olivia even made a brief and successful return to the netball court after being absent since childhood, before fears of a broken finger sent her back to retirement. For an outsider, it was an important ‘in’ that exposed her to some of the boons of country life. ‘It’s amazing. You’ve got babies, kids, teenagers, young people, people our age and then retired people and they’re all hanging out,’ Olivia says of the weekend sport ritual. ‘They’re all having a drink together. They’re all helping each other. It’s really beautiful.’

In other ways, Olivia and Nathan are expanding their community through their other ventures, including the Eleanor Downs Festival which will see them bring Adelaide Fringe acts over to the Island in March 2020 for the second year running. It’s about replicating the inclusive community feel at the footy, in new and different ways. ‘The locals want to do something different,’ says Nathan. ‘They might only come once if they don’t have a good experience and they might bag it and not come again but they’ll give it a shot,’ he adds with a wry grin.

The hard work happening now is all about setting up Eleanor Downs for the next fifty years. Nathan, in particular, wants to move away from the ‘more-is-more’ approach to farming that often leads to personal and environmental stress. He aims to create a complete property: ‘it’s not just the sheep in the paddock,’ he explains. ‘If we can turn this farm into a ‘property’ as such, that’s got all these other things going for it, some will add financial gain, some will add social gain or personal gain.’

In the end it’s the social and personal gains that will make this a sustainable lifestyle for Nathan and Olivia. They both look forward to re-gaining some balance in their lives (‘so we can go off and travel the world’). But in the meantime, there’s sheep to shear, renovations to finish and three happy kids to care for. And, of course, a pet kangaroo.