On the Other Side (part 2)

Our traveling companions were impossible to escape, even if we had been so inclined, due to the position of the lounge car and its proximity to the respective cabins of these interesting people. The entire ensemble would have made a convincing roster for a production of Murder on the Kangaroo Express. For the most part retirees, these people would welcome us every time we staggered our way down the narrow three-car passageway to the lounge. We grew to enjoy them very much.

The train sped on through the day after leaving Broken Hill, and while we had requested a rather simple off train experience at an Adelaide cheesemongers, for some reason this was denied by the rail authorities. We were forcibly assigned to the Barrossa Valley wine tasting tour, and lest my readers congratulate us on our good fortunes let me quickly disabuse them of that notion. The train stopped short of Adelaide where we were disembarked many, many cars distant from our own cabin and herded onto two coaches fitted out with seats that would have provided adequate room for a preschooler. Fortunately we were among the last off the train and assigned to the second coach which was not full, allowing us the luxury of occupying two seats each as the vehicle sped into the hinterland of South Australia while our train itself headed on to Adelaide. Our destination was a winery, Seppeltsfield, located deep into the distant Barrossa Valley

Have you, dear reader, ever had the misfortune of attending a wine tasting? I mean the kind where the vintner drones on, and on, and on, about the aroma of cherries, with a hint of oak, and the essence of marsupial drool? This is the ritual that awaited us after an hour's journey by coach when we landed at Seppeltsfield. The grounds were truly beautiful:

a palm-lined drive leading up to a complex of nineteenth century stone buildings, and the storage shed into which we were shuffled was charmingly decorated with hanging incandescent bulbs and standing propane heaters. However, there followed a lecture by the proprietor on each of the four glasses of wine on the table before us that would had tried the patience of the Buddha himself, and if that were not enough, he only yielded the floor to the chef who described the various canapes to which the wine had been paired with excruciating detail. Four glasses of wine took more than forty-five minutes to consume, as a result, and the time to tour the lovely grounds was cut short by the announcement our coach would shortly be departing to ANOTHER winery where our dinner would be served. Our endurance was tested to the limit, and the coach did not return to Adelaide (which we glimpsed by night through the coach windows) to rejoin the train at ten pm. The entire expedition took over seven hours, which would have been better spent by your humble correspondent by a casual reconnaissance of downtown Adelaide with a slice of pizza and a bottle of Coopers Sparkling Ale.

But on we went across the continent of Australia. The next morning dawned and we found ourselves in the midst of the desolate country leading to the Nullarbor Plains, a treeless expanse of several hundred miles where the tracks are laid in a perfectly straight line for nearly 300 miles.

I personally saw kangaroos, emus, and even a very lonely camel along this stretch, and it was enchanting in its desolation. It was much like being at sea, with a horizon flat all around you. How do I know this? Because we stopped in the middle of it at a railroad town called Cook (population 4). It was the only place for hundreds of miles that actually had some trees, and then only because they were intentionally planted to break up the horizon at this lonesome outpost.

It was weirdly beautiful, and we continued on into the night to another stop, Rawlina, where we disembarked into the night to "enjoy" the same guitar strumming crooner who gave a spirited rendition of the very worst of Roger Miller. However, we wandered away from the entertainment to seek a dark place away from the campfires where we marveled at the Milky Way and the Southern Cross, so clearly visible in the canopy above, along with Mars and Saturn. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.

We finally arrived at Perth on Saturday, having crossed the continent in comfort and style. I type these lines at the end of our second day here, which featured an expedition to a rather exotic locale, but that will wait until my next installment.