Homeward Bound

All good things come to an end.

The car was turned around for home and it was a long road pointed towards Rutherglen. We wanted to get there in a day, so we left Blackheath at about nine and went back the way we came, stopping only for petrol and at Penrith so I could jump out at the Bonds factory outlet!

Sydney was more glorious than I'd imagined, the Blue Mountains bluer than I remembered, and New South Wales more successful than I'd known. The premier state certainly lived up to its name, and it's little wonder Johnny wanted to live in Sydney instead of Canberra. The bustling harbour made you feel as though there was always something exciting going on in the city. This feeling is a measure of all great cities. Likewise it is hard to sleep in New York City because you know something exciting is undoubtedly happening somewhere.

But there is always someting satisfying about heading home. As parched as Victoria gets in the summer months, it is always comforting returning to the scraggly bush that is so familiar. The degrees soared as we neared Albury, and dust and sunlight choked our throats and eyes. North-east Victoria is notorious for being dry and hot, and it actually got hotter as we neared it, even though we were moving farther away from the equator.

We were driving directly into the harsh afternoon sun. 'And this is why mum quit her job in Wodonga,' Ali said as he donned my sunglasses. It was a rare occassion, seeing Ali in sunnies.

I smiled out the window. There is something satisfying about knowing you've got to be tough to love a landscape such as this. Baking hot, and uncomfortably dry. Yet the grass and trees were golden and shining, and after Albury the familiar Murray Valley Highway stretched before us, signposted with names we recognised; Wodonga, Yarrawonga, Rutherglen.

And a tiny sign read; 'Welcome to Victoria'.