RACV Cape Schanck, Mornington Peninsula, Vic
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Delivered to you by Patricia (Patsy) Poppenbeek
November being wet and cool, the country either side of the road we took to the RACV Cape Schanck Resort was all green, pretty and groomed. People in the Cape Schanck peninsula obviously love clipping and weeding, because despite a few fences it all looked like one big garden with lots of different hedges.
And as we swung up the curving Trent Jones Drive and saw the majestic reddish prow of the main Resort building, my husband said faintly, ‘It’s a castle.’
And it is. Or at least a modern, more hospitable and organic version of one. Like a medieval castle, it is built of a golden local stone penetrated in some parts by deeply recessed windows (for the archers to fire out of?). And at the entrance are three rust red steel statues that could be mounted horsemen or perhaps siege equipment. Don Quixote would certainly charge at them. But, unlike a medieval castle, the rocks forming the basis of the mammoth structure seem to have been left largely unshaped, in what looks like an homage to the Australian country tradition of dry stone walls. And atop this stone base are massive curving walls of rust red weathering steel which reference both medieval Europe and the red soils of central Australia. Also like a medieval castle, the building has secrets.
One is that from almost every angle at ground level the building seems to arch around in one embracing curve. It was only when I looked at a map that I realised it is actually a conjoined three-part structure called, apparently, a trefoil. According to Wikipedia, the trefoil is based on the clover and is a symbol that has been used in buildings since Megalithic times. It is also a structure that means there are light-filled views from every room and windows in some of the curving corridors. Another secret is that quite a lot of the building is either buried or partially buried. The main car park, for example, is completely and deeply underground, and as we went down and around and around with the lights flashing past us it all felt like something out of Star Wars and as though we were going to emerge into a universe far, far away. My husband the car nut loved swirling round it; he also loved the car spaces. ‘Nice and roomy,’ he approved.

Some of the facilities on the partially buried level include the golf shop, which before my husband pulled me out of there has what I could not help but notice was some very stylish casual gear. It also has the Mantellina café. This has a nice view out over the golf course and a charming green wall just outside on the patio, part of the RACV’s environmentally committed approach. The wait staff are attentive, but the food … what is the kindest thing I can say about it? Well, it’s family friendly. Especially if you all like pizza. And if you don’t have to be gluten free.
Unfortunately, we were there as part of a car tour, so we had two group meals at the Samphire restaurant and weren’t able to eat at the Cape, a one hat restaurant which gets rapturous reviews and has a delicious-sounding menu. Group meals with plates to share are friendly occasions, but food wise they’re a gamble, because some dishes you’ll like and others you won’t. We thought the dishes varied from very good to challenging: the good being the peas and asparagus, the challenging being the raw lamb cutlets, which seemed … unusual.

The staff, however, could not be faulted. They were uniformly efficient and, for some reason, young and tall and good-looking. Possibly they are elves.
Breakfast is also served in the Samphire and was quite good—though they only had Skinny Milk! The horror. Be sure to try the mushrooms and the bacon and, on your way out, to admire the views from the Bar and Lounge.
The rooms are wonderfully quiet, with snow-white sheets crisp as autumn leaves and excellent pillows and mattresses, and they are painted in restful eggshell whites. Perhaps they were a little too restful. We naughtily skipped one day of the car tour and spent most of it sleeping and admiring the view from the balcony, which was much visited by darting welcome swallows.
Apart from the swallows, we had views of the rolling green undulations of the golf course—which is visited by kangaroos—and even a small and distant view of the sea. The day we spent luxuriously napping the view was clear enough to see not only a sort of misty pastel view of the sea but of a ship slowly crossing it. It seemed like a painted ship being pulled across a painted ocean, and the blue-mauve buildings of the Melbourne CBD like theatre scenery in the far background.