Australia doesn’t need to borrow the Mediterranean’s spirit - it already hums along our coasts, stitched into salt air, olive groves, limestone cliffs and long lunches that drift into dusk.
‘Coast to Coastline’ could be the country’s unofficial love letter to that sunlit way of living: a ribbon of places where the light is honeyed, the sea is always near and food and wine feel less like indulgence and more like common sense.
Start in South Australia’s Fleurieu Peninsula, where Adelaide’s edges soften into vines and surf. The road south is a slow exhale: rolling green, then sudden flashes of blue as Gulf St Vincent appears between headlands.
McLaren Vale is the peninsula’s edible heart, all earthy generosity and coastal swagger. Shiraz and Grenache ripen under bright days and cooling sea breezes, coming out plush, spicy and effortlessly convivial - wines that want a table, not a tasting note. Nearby, farm gates spill over with figs, almonds and glossy olives; bakeries perfume the main streets with sourdough and rosemary.
On a warm afternoon, you can sit at a cellar door under a gum tree and swear you’re somewhere between Tuscany and the Tyrrhenian, except the magpies are singing. Then there’s the coast - Port Willunga’s pale cliffs and skeletal jetty, Aldinga’s broad beach, the cinematic curl of Second Valley. People move with a kind of coastal unhurriedness here, barefoot longer than necessary, talking about dinner as early as lunchtime, because why wouldn’t you?
Cross over to Victoria’s Bellarine Peninsula and you get a different dialect of Mediterranean: cooler, breezier, but just as deliciously coastal. The bay side is gentler than the wild Southern Ocean and the lifestyle follows suit. In Queenscliff and Point Lonsdale, sea-faded houses lean into the wind; cafes sling espresso that’s taken seriously; fish-and-chip wrappers flutter on piers as pelicans patrol for scraps.
Inland, the Bellarine’s vineyards are tidy and sunlit, with Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and aromatic whites that taste like crisp mornings and late afternoons. You’ll find produce that feels made for sharing: mussels from Port Phillip Bay, just-shucked oysters, bright heaps of tomatoes and cheese that begs for a knife and a lazy hour.
Lunch can be a plate of grilled octopus and a glass of Blanc de Blancs, eaten slowly enough that the light changes twice before you’re done. The Bellarine isn’t trying to be the Riviera - it’s doing the Victorian version of it, with knit jumpers at night and a fierce commitment to the good life in daylight hours.
Then head all the way west, to coastal Western Australia, where the Mediterranean mood turns expansive and a little wild. The sun is bigger here, or at least it feels that way and the Indian Ocean brings a clarity to the air that makes everything look freshly painted.
Around Margaret River, Busselton and down through Yallingup and Dunsborough, the climate is that perfect Mediterranean mix: warm days, cool nights and a long growing season that seems to stretch time. The wine is jaw-dropping - Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc that carry both power and precision, shaped by sea spray and ancient soils.
The food scene is equally confident: wood-fired bread, local marron, lamb kissed with smoke and platters of seafood so fresh they still taste like tide. Between tastings, there’s swimming in coves that glow turquoise, walking among karri forests and watching surfers cut through glassy sets as if the ocean is their private garden.
What links these coastlines isn’t just climate or produce, though both help. It’s a shared philosophy: eat what’s local, drink what’s grown nearby and let the day unfold at human speed.
Australia’s Mediterranean spirit isn’t a costume - it’s a way of being. You don’t have to fly to the other side of the world to find it. You just have to follow the sea and stay long enough to notice how good life can taste when the coast is close and time is generous.
