I forget how pretty it is around these parts. The rolling hills, the aging, craggy trees which line the roads, the dappled light that gives the valley an aethereal feel as you wind your way homewards through towns you know well - Kangarilla, McLaren Vale, Willunga.... After a while you go into auto-pilot. You know your way home. It's just a matter of steering and looking out for idiots.
The nine-and-a-half-hour drive went quickly. Three quick stops along the way. Ararat for bad coffee and a pee. Kaniva (so called because on the drive you feel like saying, "Kaniva ice cream? Kaniva wizz. Kaniva pack of chips...") Anyway, Kaniva let me have a quick stop for a pee and a sandwich. Then a stop at Coonalpyn for a quick walk and a wee.
Breaks were kept to a minimum as I had a passenger.
Give him his dues, other than the odd cry, he sat on his blanket and slept most of the way. My noise of choice is the audiobook of Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children. All 26 hours of it. Maybe that helped keep him asleep. (I love Rushdie. He's interesting and very funny.)
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