With his eye firmly on the clock, John Baldwin insists it is time to go. A resident of the Barossa valley for the last 23 years, John has spent the last few conducting tours for a living. A few hours earlier, he had picked me up from my Adelaide hotel in an SUV and driven me up into the Adelaide Hills and down into the valley. At an hour and a half, it is a short but stunningly beautiful drive. The city recedes in a flash and the mountains, covered by wet green grasslands and sparse patches of forest, mainly of eucalyptus, are quickly upon us. Kangaroo! I exclaim when I think we pass one. Wallaby, John corrects without so much as a glance. But further on, Kangaroos oblige us by showing up near the roadside; so does an Emu with a young chick that can barely be seen over the high grass.

Having been shepherded out of the Jacobs Creek Visitors Centre and into the capacious back seat, John hits the accelerator for the next stop Penfolds. The largest wine group in Australia, Penfolds owes its beginnings in the mid-1800s to a doctor, who believed in the medicinal qualities of wine and began serving port and sherry to his patients. Not surprisingly, both his medical practice and his profession as a vigneron flourished. His son-in-law expanded the business and further acquisitions cemented the growth of the company.

Next stop is Yalumba, the oldest family-owned winery in Australia. The light is beginning to fade and the Daimler chunters amiably in the soft and comforting green of the countryside. In Sideways, Miles and Jack travel through Californias Napa Valley in the summer, when the vines are green and fruiting and when the surrounding hills are partially desiccated. Here, in the dead of winter, its quite the opposite. The vines are all twisted branch and the hills are damp and glossy with dew and rain. Its natures way of compensating, someone tells me.

A beautiful old stone building with a clock tower fronts Yalumba. Behind it lies the winery, a modern industrial-sized operation. A walk through the facility is a reminder that winemaking, even in a heritage winery as this, is less romantic art and more hardheaded science. No harvest dances in barrels here. Giant crushers press the grapes into must, the fermentation takes place in tall aseptic metal tanks, huge pipes transport the liquid from one place to another, and the further processes of filtration and clarification are just as mechanical.

It is time for the last appointment dinner at a nearby restaurant with a small group of independent wine growers. Each of them brings his or her own vintages and over the meal, we have the wine growers version of potluck. It is impossible to resist having a sip of just about every bottle on offer and listening to the qualities from those who actually produce them. All the bottles are worth a mention, but I can recall only John Curnows luscious and leesy Shiraz (branded 1847), and a spicy Grenache and a full-bodied Riesling from Wayne Aherns Small Fry Wines.

Shiraz, the most common red grape variety, has the pride of place in the Barossa. The climate in most parts is unsuitable for the Pinot Noir, the celebrity grape in Sideways. In an unforgettable scene, suffused in a romantic and wine-soaked haze, Miles explains to Maya why its flavours are the most haunting on the planet. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinots potential can then coax it into its fullest expression, he says. Did you know, someone tells me at the table, that Pinot sales shot up by 20 per cent in some countries after the film was released? I didnt.