DAY SEVEN

A breakfast of baked goods is delivered to my cabin at 6:10am, since there isn’t enough time before our arrival in Adelaide for a full breakfast to be served. Quite frankly at 6:10am, even the baked goods in front of me aren’t doing much for my non-existent appetite.

Whistle Stop: Adelaide

Having already been to Adelaide a few times before, and seeing the early hour of our stop, I take advantage of the time I have off the train to walk into town for exercise, and camp out at a McDonalds for free WiFi.

Back On Board

Once again, the crew changes over, since all of Great Southern Rail’s train crews are based in Adelaide. I’ve shared the last five days with this crew, so it feels odd to be saying goodbye to them. But because I’ve been on as many Aussie trains as I have, I recognize the hospitality manager from my journey on The Overland the month prior.

There are also quite a few extra cars added to the train in Adelaide. This is in preparation for the annual Indian Pacific Outback Christmas journey, which begins in Sydney and will carry famous Australian musicians and entertainers across the country. In the spirit of Christmas, these performers give free concerts to remote communities located along the rail line between Sydney and Perth, and this is the 10^th year for the tradition.

This year the Indian Pacific Outback Christmas trip is even more special, as the Indian Pacific is celebrating its 40^th anniversary. In fact, the train is now so long in preparation for the onslaught of passengers boarding in Sydney, that it’s too long for some station platforms, and subsequent whistle stops are done in stages.

“Mind if I join you for lunch?” I ask a table of three. With tables seating four on the train (and rarely a party of four traveling), passengers are expected to mingle for meals. It’s one of the highlights of traveling in Gold class for me, since it’s a chance to converse with so many diverse people over a nice meal.

“No,” comes the surly response of the elderly lady at my elbow. Although she could mean “No, I don’t mind”, I’m distinctly left with the impression that I’m not welcome at the table.

Shot down, I move to another table, but it turns out I can’t sit there either since their empty seat is waiting on somebody. With all the eyes of the small dining car on me as I try to find a table that I’m welcome to join, I’m feeling a little ostracized and isolated. But as this is an isolated dining car incident, I try not to pay it much heed.

I end up eating a lackluster lunch with a retired couple with whom I can’t seem to find any common ground. The train was very bumpy last night, and with our early arrival in Adelaide this morning, I think everybody is under-slept and a little out of sorts.

Throughout this trip, I’ve been quite industrious in getting lots of writing accomplished. But today, I feel brain-dead, and instead I pass the afternoon listening to music and staring out the window. It’s bliss.

Whistle Stop: Broken Hill

For the first time in my experience with Great Southern Rail’s long-distance trips, we are late arriving into Broken Hill. Being late isn’t actually as surprising as how often we’ve been on time. I’ve come to expect delays with long-distance trains (at least in North America, where train travel isn’t down to a fine art as it is in Europe). So for this to be the first delay – and at that only by an hour – is actually quite impressive.

Given my brain-dead state, our abbreviated stopping time, and my having visited Broken Hill a few times already, I do nothing more with this whistle stop than go for a brisk sunset walk.

Back On Board

I don’t know if it’s the fatigue from a shoddy night’s sleep, or if I’ve spent too much time on trains, but my mood is swinging. My lunch experience put me off being social, so I hide out in my cabin, reading and snoozing until dinner.

When I arrive at the dining car for my last dinner on the Indian Pacific, I’ve already singled out my dinner companions; a very young pair of guys who appear to be brothers. I’ve seen them on the train since Perth, but we’ve not had a chance to chat, and I’m curious what their story is.

I learn that they are indeed brothers, one of whom just graduated high school (the other of whom is 24 years old). They’ve both saved up their money for this trip which is a graduation celebration. I’m impressed that they’ve managed to save up the money for a trip like this, in Gold class no less. They’re already talking about their next trip together – which will be on The Ghan. Despite their awkward shyness, I’m glad I get a chance to eat with them.

DAY EIGHT

As much as I enjoy sleeping on trains, I must admit when I awake that I’m really looking forward to sleeping in a bed that’s not in motion.

Initially, sleeping on trains (in beds) was exciting and different, and indicative of a big trip (which implies big adventure in my books). My first taste of getting horizontal on a train was when I traveled from Toronto west across Canada in 2007. The canter of the train and perpetual motion was like a lullaby, and as far as I’m concerned there’s (still) nothing like waking up in the morning and simply lying in bed watching the world roll by outside the window while consciousness slowly sets in.

But now, after a solid week on trains (with a one night respite in Perth), I’m coming to understand the conversations I’ve had with train employees who speak of needing a full day of sleep to recover from many trips. It has much less to do with their working hours (my initial hypothesis), and much more to do with simply not sleeping well on trains. For a few days, it’s barely noticeable. As a lifestyle though, I would struggle.

I eat breakfast with Richard and Jack again; they’re looking a little worse-for-wear as well. We discuss the layout of various cabins, and where (and how) the employees sleep.

“How do you sleep?” Richard asks the woman serving us breakfast. He is actually referring to the orientation of the beds in the employee quarters, but his question is understandably mis-interpreted.

“Honey,” she begins, “If you don’t sleep, we don’t sleep either,” she says with all the fatigue of somebody who hasn’t slept. Her answer also comes quickly (and wearily) enough that it’s apparent she gets asked this all the time. “A lot of it has to do with the tracks. If it’s a bumpy ride, nobody sleeps well. Stuff vibrates in the cabins, and we all have bits on us that wobble. Each of us has our tricks, but there’s no one solution. I like to sleep on my tummy.”

This is our last meal on the train, and we are chugging through the Blue Mountains outside of Sydney. I am particularly excited for this morning, as I was told on The Ghan by an employee that one of his favourite routes is the Perth-Sydney route, because waking up to the sun coming up over the Blue Mountains is magic.

Unfortunately, it’s raining! However between raindrops, we admire the layers of fog playing in the hills overlooking the small mountain towns.

The rain is somewhat indicative of our collective mood at the breakfast table too. As much as we are enjoying (and have enjoyed) each other’s company over the last few days, the end is in sight, and it’s the end of a long journey for everybody. We talk about where we’re all going next, we take some pictures, and exchange contact information.

Coming to an End

I’m feeling especially melancholy, since this is the end of not only a journey that is twice the length of what most “normal” people do (since I retraced my steps from Perth back to Sydney), but it’s also my last train journey in Australia. In just over a month, I’ve ridden almost 16,000kms of rail in Australia, including The Ghan (Darwin-Adelaide), The Overland (Adelaide-Melbourne), The Indian Pacific (Sydney-Perth-Sydney), The XPT (Melbourne-Sydney-Melbourne), and various Country Link journeys to and through small towns including Seymour, Canberra, and Aubury.

And I haven’t even come close to seeing it all. There are train journeys up to North Queensland from Sydney, across to various outback towns from the east coast, and Great Southern Rail also runs the Southern Spirit: an exclusive all-inclusive 6 day/5 night trip from Adelaide to Brisbane (through Melbourne).

As I step on to the platform at Central Station in Sydney, I wonder what will be next, and when I’ll again find myself on a train journey of such grandeur. Will it be the Blue Train in South Africa? Or the Trans-Siberian in Russia? The Toy Train to Darjeeling? Or the Via One across Canada (this time east from Toronto)?

I’m not sure which train trip will be my next, but I do know that despite my fatigue, and despite spending eight days solid on a train, I didn’t experience even one fleeting moment of boredom.

So in a way, my mission as set out in the beginning of this series has failed. I’ve tested myself, my endurance, and my patience for long-distance train travel, and I’ve surprised myself in not reaching my wit’s end sooner. Instead, I emerge from the experience with a new handful of friends and contacts, a bevy of stories and anecdotes, dozens (nay, hundreds) of pictures, and a lifetime of memories.

Aah – I love train travel.

Editor’s Note: I received a complimentary Ausrail pass from Great Southern Rail, and a free upgrade to sleeper class.

DAY SIX

In the other cabins, I’ve slept lengthwise along the train. In this cabin, I’m sleeping widthwise across the train. I wonder if this will adversely affect my sleep, but I find it to be about the same; occasionally restless and occasionally blissful.

This night, however, isn’t so blissful. A constant repetitive noise invades my dreams, taking the form of water sloshing against walls, or somebody washing and clanging dishes, or anything in between.

It’s only when I’m coherent come the morning that I realize the window blinds are making a small racket, clattering between the window panes. (Interestingly later in the day, the train maintenance manager comes by for a chat, and he asks if everything (from temperature to fixtures) has been satisfactory. I mention the blinds in passing, also saying that I’ll just leave them up from here on in to avoid the problem. But that won’t do; while I’m at dinner, he places spacers on the blinds so I won’t be disturbed by them again).

I enjoy breakfast with Sam and Helen (a couple in their early 60’s) from Melbourne. This is Sam’s first time in Western Australia, and he admits to probably being the least-traveled person he knows. “This trip has been eye-opening and mind-expanding,” he says of this journey into the unknown.

The conversation takes a curious turn when Sam says “Are you on Lonely Planet TV?”

I smile. “No. Do I look familiar?” It’s coincidental that I’ve just finished filming a travel tv show pilot episode and am about to shoot a full series; I know he doesn’t know me from tv fame (yet). I simply tend to look familiar to people, to the point where I’m often mistaken for somebody else. So I’m expecting to resemble the host of Lonely Planet TV as a result of this question.

Instead, I get a response that stings a little: “No, it’s not that I’ve seen you on tv. You just seem aggressive and positive like some of the Lonely Planet hosts are.”

I blink and ask Sam to repeat what he just said, which he does.

Aggressive and positive? I’ve never heard those two words juxtapositioned in such a way, and formulated in a sentence that’s not actually intended to be offensive. Yikes! Maybe I was too “aggressive” in asking them if I could join them for breakfast.

This particular meal-time conversation being something of a flop, we continue on to discuss innocuous things like the whistle stops the Indian Pacific train makes. I pass on a few of the facts and trivia I’ve gleaned through my journey so far, and Sam and Helen remark that I know more about Australia than they do! I blush and reply as humbly as possible that it’s a function of my job.

Whistle Stop: Cook

I wonder why I always feel a little strange when the train stops. If I’m looking out of the window, I would swear that we are moving backwards once we’re stationery. You get so used to moving forward all the time that not moving at all feels like moving backwards. It’s quite the trick of the eye (and inner ear).

Unlike the stop in Cook a few days earlier, today the sun is shining and perfect little white clouds are floating across the sky.

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Cook,” comes the announcement from the train manager. “The temperature is a comfortable 19 degrees, and we’ve got nice sunshine with some cloud cover. So in addition to the five people that live here, you’ll get a chance to meet a few million other inhabitants of Cook as well.”

A few million other inhabitants? I wonder…

…no I don’t. Flies. As I get off the train for the quick half-hour stop, I salute Cook with what I’ve dubbed the “Aussie wave”: a constant gesture of waving the space on either side of my face in order to keep the flies out of my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

Cook is an interesting stop for the Indian Pacific since it’s one of the world’s most isolated outposts. It’s 1,100km from Adelaide and 1,500km from Perth, and although there are signs of once-formidable habitation, only five people remain here.

In fact, in describing the anticipated stops for the Indian Pacific to some of my Aussie friends, many had no idea where Cook was or why the train would stop there. Besides the point of interest of being such an isolated outpost and something of a ghost town (with a thriving gift shop, of course), it seems to be a stop more for the train than the passengers, as drivers change over and the train is refilled with water.

Back On Board

“I love your hair colour!” I say to a South African woman who I’d come to know as Cynthia. Her hair is a vibrant purplish-red, very similar to a hair colour I once donned.

“Thanks! It’s completely natural,” she replies with a winning smile.

“Really? Mine too!” I say of my dark purple base colour with blonde and red streaks throughout.

Cynthia and I share a lovely lunch together, talking about everything you don’t talk about with strangers (especially from South Africa), including politics, religion, race, and faith. It’s refreshing and uplifting conversation, and I see a kindred spirit in Cynthia. We both remark how we’re sure our paths will cross again, and we have enough faith to know that it will happen without our having to force the process.

Indian Pacific’s Double-Duty

As we chug back across this vast expanse of flat, largely uninhabitable land, I’m surprised at the number of signs of civilization interspersed throughout the desert. I’m also interested to learn of the Indian Pacific’s instrumental role in keeping these remote communities going.

“Ladies and gentleman, if you look out the left side of the train, you’ll see we’re passing through the town of Forrest, evidently not named for its abundance of trees,” the train manager announces over the intercom. He goes on to describe this town with a bustling population of two people who maintain the railway and refuel planes that need to land on the narrow paved airstrip. They even have a “bed and breakfast” for people who drop in (often literally) on them.

Towns like Forrest, Rawlinna, and Tarcoola wouldn’t survive well without the Indian Pacific, which not only occasionally drops off and picks up passengers who are enroute to these remote outposts for mining or other jobs, but the Indian Pacific is also responsible for delivering the mail and some supplies to these communities.

Spotting the Wildlife

I mention to the train manager that I’m saddened not to see as much wildlife as I had expected. Not one wild camel has made an appearance for me and it’s not for lack of looking for them.

The train manager explains that usually the wildlife-viewing opportunities aboard the Indian Pacific are terrific, since the train drops moisture on the tracks along the way (grey water from basins and showers are expelled on the tracks). And through arid areas like the outback (especially through the drought that Australia has felt over the last 10 or so years), the train tracks are a great spot for animals to congregate and feed.

But this past winter has seen a record-breaking amount of rain, and the outback is uncharacteristically green. When I hear this I smile, since just about all I can see out the window is brown land, with a slightly green tinge only if I squint at it the right way.

So unfortunately for me (but thankfully for the drought-stricken land which has now been rained upon) there isn’t the abundance of wildlife I had hoped to see. I thank my lucky stars that I’ve already spotted a number of wedge-tailed eagles, few kangaroos, and an emu.

Today though, the closest sign to “wildlife” I see is a large rock at the side of the tracks with the word “GIDAY” spray-painted onto it. Who did this?! There’s no road in sight or sign of human life anywhere. Maybe those elusive camels have developed some extra talents in their years of living at large in the outback.

Disappointing Dinner

Dinner is a less-than-fulfilling experience with three ladies who are all traveling solo. The woman across from me opens the conversation with the endearing observation “You eat like an American.” This comment takes me off-guard, and I learn it is because after I cut my food with my fork and knife, I tend to move my fork from my left hand to my right hand to eat.

I don’t know if this woman intends her observation to be offensive, but she can’t seem to say anything without painting surly overtones onto each word. I make a humble comment about being taught good manners in this form before changing the topic.

But it’s not long before she strikes again: “So how are racial tensions in Canada?” This sets the tone for the rest of the meal. The two women across from me launch into a series of racial tirades that include comments like “The Pakistanis are taking over England! Taking over!” which is said with raised voices, spittle flying across the table, and lips curled. I’m then informed that immigrants to Australia have no business keeping to their own circles and should integrate fully, completely, and immediately upon arrival. Considering both these offending women are immigrants to Australia themselves and identify their original nationalities before their Australian residency, it seems hypocritical.

I gracefully leave the dinner table and the spiraling conversation when the topic turns to “African Americans. They aren’t even from Africa. Why do they need to call themselves that? Because their skin is black?! They’re just Americans!”

Aah….even disappointing dinners are fun. You truly never know who you’ll meet on the train. With not a dull moment yet (which is contrary to my expectations), I’m nearing the end of my eight-day journey on the Indian Pacific. Let’s see what tomorrow brings…

Editor’s Note: I received a complimentary Ausrail pass from Great Southern Rail, and a free upgrade to sleeper class.

DAY FOUR

I awake earlier than 6:30am, preferring not to be awake, but consoling myself for being conscious by laying in bed and watching the world go by outside the window for a while. Eventually a fundamental need for coffee rouses me from my window-gazing cocoon.

While I’m fixing up my coffee in the Red Lounge car, I run across Betty: the South African partner to Aussie Bill, our nominated “couple most in love” on the train. We chat about how, despite our generally social natures, we both immensely enjoy just sitting in our cabins and looking out the window, allowing our thoughts to come and go with the scenery.

As more and more passengers emerge from their seats and cabins to congregate in the Red Lounge car for tea and breakfast, there is an air of celebration and camaraderie. This is our last morning together, as we are about to arrive in Perth; the final destination for just about everybody (except me).

Although I had intended on spending some time on my own this morning, I am lured into enthusiastic and interesting conversations, group photos, and various exchanges of contact information to keep in touch. Along with the air of celebration is also the ever-present note of melancholy in not wanting this train trip to end.

Although I’m sad to be parting company with this wonderful group of travelers, I’m also quietly happy that I’m only halfway through my own train journey.

24 Hours in Perth

I’m thrilled to be in Perth (and Western Australia in general), despite my measly 24 hour turn-around time. I race across the platform to meet my long-time writing colleague Amanda, who is my host for the day and who puts me up for the one night in this 11,000km trip that isn’t spent on a train.

As much as I expect this night of sleep to be utter bliss, I am surprised when I’m thrown off by the incredibly stationery bed, and the heat (which after being on a temperature-controlled train for four days is a touch oppressive).

Nevertheless, I have a fabulous 24 hours in Perth, as can be read here.

DAY FIVE

I bid “see ya later” (which is my traditional form of goodbye, since I tend to run into people who I never think I’ll see again all over the place) to Amanda and her family, knowing that we’ll meet again – but not knowing where or how.

As Amanda and I are waiting at the train platform for the call to passengers to board, I spot the carriage attendant who was in charge of my car between Adelaide and Perth. Her face lights up and she runs over and gives me a big hug – much to the surprise of the surrounding passengers, most of whom are just seeing the train for the first time.

Like I said before, the train crew is instrumental in making a trip on The Ghan or the Indian Pacific memorable, and this warm welcome is a nice touch. Most of the staff onboard all the trains truly seems to love what they do (and if they don’t, then they’re pretty good actors).

Onboard – and Upward

To my surprise and delight, I receive an upgrade to a Gold Twinette cabin, which is even bigger (about twice the size) of the Gold single cabin I enjoyed on The Ghan. It has room for two single beds (bunk-style) which fold out from the wall, an ensuite toilet/basin/shower, and lots of seating when the beds are folded away. In fact, there’s so much room in this cabin, I have two initial thoughts:

1) This cabin is so big, I could do yoga! And in fact, I do. Train-yoga should be a new modality for yoga; it’s an interesting exercise in balance while the train is moving, that’s for sure.

2) I’ve lived in places smaller than this. This, I realize, doesn’t speak much for some of the places I’ve lived in, but then again, as a Professional Hobo, I’m happy to simply have a place large enough for me to open up my bag and lay down for the night. I’m not demanding!

Welcome!

“All Gold passengers with a blue meal-seating card are invited to the Gold Lounge for a welcome reception in five minutes,” an announcement comes across about an hour after we’ve left Perth.

Being in Gold class entitles you to three meals a day served in the dining car, on real plates with real cutlery and real glasses. The meals are generally three courses, and are of excellent quality with something for most diets.

There are two meal-seating times: red, and blue. The early red seating usually involves breakfast around 7:00am, which is reason enough for me to choose a blue seating time. But I also enjoy the later blue meal seating because there’s no rush to leave the dining car after the meal is done, since there isn’t another group of hungry passengers waiting to eat. Some of my most inspired conversations with other passengers take place over a lingering meal in the dining car, often over such a long period that the car has cleared out and we’ve encouraged the staff to go ahead and eat their own meals.

So as a blue-meal-card-carrying-passenger, I enjoy a lovely sparkling wine reception while Marsha, the hospitality manager, sets the scene for our journey from Perth through to Adelaide, where a new crew will take over.

She tells us about the beautiful Avon Valley, which we are chugging through as the reception is taking place. I don’t expect such a hilly landscape of Western Australia, and I curse my camera batteries for being on charge.

Marsha also tells us to be on the lookout for camels during our trek across the Nullarbor desert; there are over 1 million camels in Australia, and none of them are owned! They hail from the days when camels were a viable means of transportation across the outback, but now they run wild. I hope to spot some camels this time going across the Nullarbor, as I didn’t see any enroute to Perth.

Gold Service, and Passengers

The level of service in Gold Class is noticeably more posh than Red Class, and it comes with an according price tag. (Although you can get a free upgrade to gold class through some travel agents by purchasing a package that includes red sleeper class, a night or two of accommodation, and a tour. If you plan on staying in hotels and booking a tour anyway, it’s amazing value with the upgrade. Alternately, you can upgrade onboard from a red sleeper to gold sleeper – based on availability – for an extra $200/night).

With a different echelon of traveler in Gold class, most of the people are there because they really want to ride the Indian Pacific. Nobody rides the Indian Pacific in Gold class purely as a means of getting from A to B or as a way to save money; they usually ride it because this trip IS the trip, as I discover in the people I meet and chat with over the next four days.

One mild exception to the rule is Patrick and Hailey; a couple moving from Perth to Sydney. Their car is on the Indian Pacific, and all their belongings are being carted across the country on a freight train. Their (adult) children are in New York City and London, and one their kids in London is moving back to Sydney soon. Patrick and Hailey simply feel too isolated in Perth now with the kids living overseas, and none of them would ever move back to Perth because it doesn’t have enough industry to support their chosen careers.

As much as you would expect Gold class to be packed with nothing but silver-haired retirees enjoying a pinnacle train journey that they’ve dreamed of for years (and trust me – there are lots of these people), I am also surprised at the variety in demographics throughout both gold class and red class.

I enjoy dinner with Richard and Jack, a charming gay couple in their early 40’s who live  in Melbourne. Jack is from Canada and Richard is from Asia, and both are gregarious and engaging. We enjoy a nightcap and fast conversation long after most people have vacated the dining and lounge cars and gone to bed. Jack is especially excited to see Broken Hill, which was instrumental in the filming of Pricilla: Queen of the Desert.

One of the interesting points of conversation with Richard and Jack is that they are both between jobs right now, and re-evaluating the direction of their lives in the face of some medical problems that Richard is recovering from.

It’s amazing how when your health comes into the fray, big change can be just around the corner. I muse about how my own bouts with illness have been cathartic in helping me to make the life changes I’ve needed to. I wish I haven’t had to wait for the ball to drop to do something about my life, but at least the wake-up calls haven’t been more serious. I vow to listen to my gut more actively to avoid this in the future.

The Whistle Stop in Kalgoorlie is tonight, but it’s at the awkward time of 10:30pm-1:30am. Since I checked out Kalgoorlie enroute to Perth, I decide to give it a miss this time in favour of getting some sleep and enjoying the scenery tomorrow. I head to bed eager to bring on another day aboard the train.

And no, I’m not bored yet.

Editor’s Note: I received a complimentary Ausrail pass from Great Southern Rail, and a free upgrade to sleeper class.

I had but a mere 24 hours (26 to be exact) to enjoy Perth, between getting off the Indian Pacific train from Sydney, and getting right back on it the following day to return to my point of origin.

“Why aren’t you staying in Perth for longer?” was a question I often fielded in describing this epic eight-day train journey during which Perth was but a brief intermission.

“How long should I stay in Perth?” I’d reply.

“Well, I don’t know, but longer than 24 hours,” would be the (completely fair) response.

Granted, yes. 24 hours isn’t long enough to get a true sense of a place, especially for a slow traveler like me. But had I planned on spending a week in Perth, people still wouldn’t have been satiated; instead I’d have been asked why I didn’t go down to Margaret River as well.

And if I’d planned on two weeks in WA visiting Perth and Margaret River, I’d be asked why I didn’t also take a trip up the rugged coast to experience a slice of the expansive Western Australian outback.

So my response to all this was simply that I don’t have time to see everything and do everything (at least this time around). I have to pick my battles, and this particular trip to Australia was about riding the rails. So that’s what I did – and did quite well, I might add – with The Ghan, The Indian Pacific, The Overland, and numerous CountryLink routes under my belt, totaling over 16,000kms.

My battle having been chosen, I had to accept that my time in Perth would be brief, and that ultimately I’ll just have to return to Western Australia another time to more comprehensively visit the area.

Luckily, a fellow travel writer (Amanda) who I’ve known online for years lives in Perth, and invited me to spend my day in Perth under her wise guidance and generosity. Once again, I reveled in how amazing it was to turn an online friendship into a tangible one; such a fulfilling experience.

Perth in 24 Hours

My train arrived in Perth on a Saturday morning, and after a flurry of text messages describing what we were each wearing(!), Amanda and I spotted each other on the platform and gave each other a big hug.

“Right. So what do you want to see while you’re here?” Amanda started as we climbed into her car.

“I would be delighted if you showed me your Perth,” was my response. I love playing tour guide to people as it allows me to see a place with fresh eyes, which can be an uplifting experience. I hoped that today would do the same for Amanda.

Kings Park

Our first stop was to take a stroll through and have lunch at Kings Park, which overlooks Perth and is the largest inner city park in the world. (“Large” being a theme we would revisit later in the day. Aussies – especially those in Western Australia – don’t do things in small measures).

Full of various memorials and with tracks through well-landscaped native bush, Kings Park is certainly a jewel for Perth’s crown.

Suburbs, and The River

For part of the afternoon, Amanda took me back to her home in the suburbs where I met her husband and spent some time playing with their beautiful baby boy. At one point in our drive through the city, we took a wrong turn (which I’ll take credit for as I was distracting Amanda with irrefutably riveting conversation, I’m sure).

All of a sudden, we were on a large bridge that goes over Swan River (a wide river that was full of various boats and an evidently loved resource for outdoor enthusiasts).

“Whoops,” said Amanda. “We’re headed South of the River. I’ll have to turn around.”

“What’s south of the river?” I asked.

This was more of a loaded question than I had anticipated. Apparently the river which runs through Perth is a line of demarcation between North of the River (also referred to as NOR), and South of the River (SOR). And interestingly, people from each side tend not to mix. Neither side of the river is necessarily better or safer; it’s simply the “other side”, to which you just don’t go.

“I dated a guy from SOR once, but of course it didn’t work out,” Amanda said matter-of-factly in regards to the reality of fraternizing with Perthites from the other side.

Leederville

Next up, we hopped on the train to Leederville, where we checked out the Oxford Street Market (on every Saturday from 9am-4pm), and soaked in the café culture of Oxford Street with an iced mocha.

The Beach

My only request for the day was to dip my toes in the Indian Ocean. And Perth is a very long narrow city (over 100kms long) due to a universal desire among residents to be close to the ocean, so this was not a difficult request to fulfill. We enjoyed a beautiful sunset stroll along a local stretch of beach that had no more than a dozen other people.

Hillary’s Boat Harbour

We decided to have dinner at Hillary’s Boat Harbour, formerly not much of a draw-card but now a popular spot for both locals and tourists, with scores of eclectic shops, restaurants, and even a small amusement park to keep the kids entertained.

We had expected the place to be busy (especially it being Saturday night), but the crowds here were way thicker than either Amanda or I had anticipated.

We soon realized we were blessed this night. We got some Japanese takeaway and sat down on one of the few available sections of bench overlooking the wharf. And no sooner than we dug into our noodles, did the reason for the thick crowds become apparent: we were in for the largest fireworks display in Western Australia, and we coincidentally had the best seats in the house!

As much as Amanda tried to convince me that she had personally arranged the fireworks to celebrate my arrival in Perth, I had a sneaking suspicion there was more to it. And indeed there was: as the closest Saturday to December 1^st, tonight was a celebration of the “Launch of Summer”.

Amanda and I both felt pretty good about our day in Perth. We enjoyed lots of time gabbing while wandering around and lunching at Kings Park, we put our finger on the pulse of Leederville’s hip café scene, enjoyed a classic Western Australian sunset on the beach, and took in the largest fireworks display in WA while people-watching at the boat harbour.

All in all, a pretty good 24 hours in Perth, if you ask me.

DAY THREE

My early night to bed last night has paid off; I’ve made up for lost sleep with a blissful night of 10 hours slumber while we canter across the Australian outback.

I wake up with a start. I have so much to do today! I have so much writing, and reading, and chatting with travelers, and gazing out the window, and exploring to do! And tomorrow, I get off the train in Perth for a day – a day which marks the halfway point of my journey on the Indian Pacific.

And I’m not even close to being bored yet!

This mission to become bored is proving to be difficult.

After our departure from Adelaide, the scenery is now reduced to red earth, flat ground, and scrubby bushes. I think this is the famed Nullarbor desert, but I’m not sure, and I don’t ask yet.

I become frustrated taking pictures. The glass is double-paned, which distorts the images. And although the outside and inside of the train is kept very clean, dirt can get between the glass, which further distorts pictures. Lastly, I’m stymied by my complete inability to get anything in focus, which drives me to chat with Mark, who I met on day one.

Mark is my target because he is carrying a good camera with a big lens, which leads me to believe he’s a better photographer than I am. I’m not disappointed with this assumption; he immediately helps me start taking clearer shots by instructing me to set my camera to shutter speed priority (TV) and the speed to 1/500.

In further conversation, I learn that Mark has experience teaching English in Japan, and is eager to live abroad for a year in either India or the UK. He’s hoping to leverage his IT degree abroad, but feels he needs to put in some work experience at home in the States first (since his degree is still new).

His trip to Australia is part of a three-week whirlwind that started in Sydney before this four day train ride, a wedding in Perth, a flight to Alice Springs with a trip to Uluru, a flight to Cairns to see the Great Barrier Reef, and then an exhausting flight home. The stingy vacation policy in the States is already getting to Mark, who craves some serious time on the road to experience all facets of life abroad. I wonder how long he’ll stay in the traditional workforce before finding an alternative that works for him.

After lunch I meet Bob, an elderly gentleman who constantly refers to Betty (who is having a nap). He’s evidently expecting her to wake up at any moment, as he watches the door for her to appear during most of our conversation. It’s endearing.

Bill is a well-traveled Aussie, having been to all seven continents a few times over. His wife died four years ago in his arms, and there’s a love that remains for her in his words and tone while he describes their life together. But his wife told him to move on after her, and that he eventually did.

Bill met Betty in South Africa, where he was traveling and she was living. She spends her time between South Africa and Canada (where she lives about half the year). Betty and Bill are an item but have allegiances to their respective home countries and families; so they meet up where they can in the world, and travel together as much as they can, making the very most out of each moment they share.

They quickly become the adored couple by all on the train ride from Sydney to Perth.

Whistle Stop: Cook

Although Cook holds some degree of interest to me, it is raining, and I decide to “discover Cook” (with its booming population of five) on the way back from Perth in a few days. Instead I’m engrossed in conversation with Mark while we stretch our legs and amble in the light rain.

Without realizing it, I’m settling into the relaxed pace of train travel quite nicely; maintaining a nice balance of impulsive chatting, musing, and working.

Back On Board

While gazing out the window (a common – and commonly accepted – pastime on the train), I hear an announcement that we are approaching the Western Australia border, and that we are 2,900kms from Sydney and 1,400kms from Perth.

I look out the window. We are surrounded by flat desert. The border doesn’t carry with it much fanfare. There also isn’t much life out here; one of the few signs of human existence (besides the train) is a line of piled rocks that follows alongside the track for ages. It is what we can see of the buried telecommunications pipeline that connects Perth with the rest of Australia.

I consider how much work building this line would have been given the distance and a generally uninhabitable climate. This in turn helps me begin to really understand how isolated Perth (where I’ll be tomorrow) really is.

Never mind how remote Perth is, I think. Look out the window! You know the ground is flat when, just below the horizon, it looks wet. I find myself mesmerized with the oasis-like blur of the reflecting ground in the distance as it melts into the sky.

The low scrub gets lower. Just when I think I’m seeing the great expanse of “nothing” that I’ve been promised of the Nullarbor desert, a few minutes later the landscape becomes even more barren. Now, I’m on the Nullarbor, no doubt about it. And I love it, because it’s so far from “nothing”, yet the sense of isolation weighs heavy.

I see heaps of wedge-tailed eagles at the side of the tracks. The wedge-tailed eagle is the symbol of the Indian Pacific train, and aptly so; I spend the next hour spotting and (unsuccessfully) taking pictures of them. Although most fly beside or away from the train, one remains seated on his rock only three metres away, his back to the train and wings slightly splayed to show off his might. It’s magnificent.

Train Time

Having changed the time back half an hour the first night, then one hour back last night, we’re not actually in a real time zone. Instead, we’re on “train time”, a time designed to follow us through the desert and into Western Australia, easing our transition to Perth time while maximizing daylight hours. I guess. All I really know is that it’s leaving me feeling confused, wondering when we’ll actually be stopping in Kalgoorlie, where we’re due to arrive later today.

Then I wonder how much it really matters; we’ll get there when we get there. Sometimes we’re early, sometimes we’re late. That’s life on a train.

Congratulations

“Congratulations, you’ve just completed riding the longest stretch of straight track in the world at 477kms,” comes the announcement over the speaker system. And shortly thereafter an announcement follows that we’ve reached the end of the Nullarbor plains. I am shocked; we’re still 20 hours from Perth! I thought that the Nullarbor engulfed the general expanse between Perth and Adelaide; instead it is only a portion thereof. The mighty Nullarbor. What a massive land this is to dwarf such a renowned desert.

Almost immediately after the announcement, the vegetation gets taller and denser, and the landscape visibly adjusts.

I was told that my best chance of getting bored on the train would be on the Nullarbor. No boredom yet. We’ll see if I can become bored on the way back. I’ve got a (sinking?) feeling that it won’t work though.

Whistle Stop: Kalgoorlie

We arrive at Kalgoorlie at 7:30pm, or 8:30pm, or hell – I don’t know what time it is as I’m still stuck in “train time” purgatory. But the train arrives at what feels like an awkward time and a bunch of us pile on to a tour bus to get the most of Kalgoorlie during our short evening stop.

Kalgoorlie was founded on gold in 1893, and it remains a town heavily involved in gold, as well as just about any other element they can get out of the ground (which around here is a lot). We visit the Superpit: the aptly named 3.5km by 1.5 km pit that is 400 metres deep. It’s the largest open-cut gold mine in Australia, and soon to be the largest in the world at this pace of expansion.

But the tour isn’t just about mining; it’s also about prostitutes. No tour of Kalgoorlie is complete without a cruise by a few of the local brothels, where an in-depth discussion of the history and nature of prostitution in Kalgoorlie seems to follow naturally. I learn that prostitution is illegal but tolerated here, and once a week doctors come in to give “the girls” medicals, while once every two weeks the Sisters of Mercy come in to counsel the girls. Bless their hearts.

I’m particularly intrigued by the attempt at discretion on the part of the brothels, given that this is a relatively small town. Not only do they provide secluded parking around the back, but if you charge your “visit” to your credit card, it will come up on the statement as a hardware store charge. All I wonder is who would put a visit to a brothel on plastic? It’s all about the frequent flyer miles, I guess.

Ahem.

I notice a huge concentration of pubs, which actually dwarfs the number of pubs that existed when Kalgoorlie was in its gold rush heyday. Some of these pubs feature “skimpies”: scantily clad barmaids, who earn a cool $65/hour for their attire (or lack thereof).

The tour of Kalgoorlie is about more than mines and ladies of the night, but admittedly not much. Our bus driver is a lovely informative woman with a sing-song-y voice who used to drive trucks in the mines. She points out the Islamic influence in architecture as a tribute to the camel trains which were once the main mode of transportation, and she sings about the history of main street as we crawl down it, being passed by walkers most of the time. Maybe it’s my lack of interest in (or support of) the mining industry that makes me lackadaisical about my Kalgoorlie experience.

But to its credit, Kalgoorlie has character, and tons of it. I can only imagine the characters I’d meet if I spent a week here. Given its roots in mining, Kalgoorlie still feels like a “wild west” border town, where life is lived on the edge. Truly.

I wander back to the train after quickly stretching my legs on the tour’s conclusion, then head to sleep, ready for Perth tomorrow.

Editor’s Note: I received a complimentary Ausrail pass from Great Southern Rail, and a free upgrade to sleeper class.

Day Two

Accounting for a half-hour time change back before bedtime, I awake (somewhat self-begrudgingly) just before dawn. Apparently catching the sun rise as we approach Broken Hill is a sight to behold.

I jump up and shower, pump down a coffee, and finally open my eyes only to discover that the sun rise won’t exactly be as spectacular as promised – due to the rain. Ah well; I take the opportunity to get some “early morning” shots.

Whistle Stop: Broken Hill

I’m still bleary-eyed when we arrive in Broken Hill at 6:30am. After a short walk I discover the coffee shop I used to frequent when I was here before, and I grab a seat and reminisce about old times.

At the next table is a father and son duo riding their motorcycles across the outback. Similar to me, their trip isn’t about the destination; their destination having been somewhat arbitrarily picked as a far-flung turn-around point based on how far they could get in the five days they had off for the trip. I wonder as we part ways where they will stop next and what they’ll discover on their journey.

Heading back to the train, I have a closer look at the platform setup. There are four or five elderly women spread out along the platform, each sitting beside a table of souvenirs and handicrafts. As if intentionally coordinated in their efforts, their wares are almost identical, and they’re all quietly knitting while glancing and smiling at passers-by. It feels like a church bazaar.

Whistle Stop: Adelaide

A few more conversations with passing travelers and an article (meaning the act of having written one) later, we arrive in Adelaide in the early afternoon.

Having visited Adelaide once before, I have a vague idea of the layout of the city and I realize the CBD (central business district) is within fairly easy walking distance (20-30 minutes each way). So I strap on my walking shoes and head into the city, relishing the chance to stretch my legs and get the blood pumping on this hot sunny day. Given that I’m on the train for eight days, I must take advantage of every opportunity I get.

I cruise through Adelaide Central Market, a 135 year-old entity that is the largest fresh produce market in the Southern Hemisphere. After pawing mangos and watching the fish mongers auction off their wares to passers-by, I pick up some food to take back to the train for dinner, then meander through the CBD, intentionally taking the long way back to the train station.

Back On Board

A new train crew has taken over for the rest of the journey to Perth (and back to Adelaide). All Great Southern Rail employees are based in Adelaide, and each train manager hires, manages, and works with their own crew. Each crew, in turn, rotates through the various train routes, all of which (for them) start and end in Adelaide. Almost as a family unit, each crew works, eats, sleeps, and even plays together while they’re on a trip.

I say this because the train crew is instrumental in the experience of traveling on the train, and you feel the shift when the crew changes. One train manager later tells me a story of how a passenger approached him enthusiastically, asking if he remembered the fellow and his wife. After an uncomfortable “ummmm”, the passenger tried to prompt his memory by saying they had met during his last trip on the Indian Pacific – seven years ago. In retelling the story, the train manager admits that he meets about 200,000 passengers a year; it’s tough to remember all those faces.

Regardless of whether faces are remembered, the friendly crew on-board the trains certainly play a part in defining the rail experience for passengers, especially when you are traveling in Gold or Platinum class (as I did on The Ghan, and do later in this trip).

In addition to the new crew, there is a glut of new passengers, such that my previously near-empty carriage is now full. There is a new buzz to the train as the new passengers settle in, many of whom seem to be couples and/or international travelers.

I’m not feeling overly social tonight, and there is a lot of time yet to get to know my new riding companions. I eat the dinner I bought at Central Market, do some writing, and hit the hay early, having been up since before dawn. The clocks change back another hour tonight, so I look forward to an extra-full night of sleep as recompense.

Editor’s Note: I received a complimentary Ausrail pass from Great Southern Rail, and a free upgrade to sleeper class.

The Indian Pacific: My Plan of Attack

In reflecting on my three-day adventure riding The Ghan from Darwin to Adelaide, I was surprised at how quickly the time passed. I had figured that, despite my love of long-distance train travel, riding a train for 3,000kms (followed shortly thereafter by a further 1,000km by train from Adelaide to Melbourne and a few hundred kilometres of commuter trains after that) could devolve into a lackluster experience; translation: it could get boring.

But to my surprise and delight (and almost disappointment), my time on The Ghan flew by. Between the well-timed whistle stops in Katherine and Alice Springs and the always-lingering conversations over mealtimes, I disembarked the train with very few of my pre-determined “train projects” complete.

So this time, I needed to challenge myself: I wanted to construct a train trip that gave me more than enough time to do everything: to take in the vast and changing landscapes of Australia, to meet interesting characters on the train, to read, to write, to sleep, and just possibly, to experience boredom.

I actually wanted to see if it’s possible to become bored on a train.

With this (somewhat misguided) motivation in mind, I became the architect of a train trip that most people wouldn’t dream of – neither in their fantasies nor their nightmares. In fact, on announcing my itinerary to even the staff working on the Indian Pacific (being people who I’d figure could best understand my passion for train travel), one girl responded initially with a blank stare indicating a lack of comprehension, then a flicker of both admiration and confusion accompanied by the comment “Boy, you really do like train travel, don’t you?”

Yes, yes I do.

My plan of attack? To take the overnight train from Melbourne to Sydney (11 hours, and 1,000kms). After a couple of days catching up with Sydney friends, I would board the Indian Pacific in Sydney and ride it the 4,000kms to Perth (stopping enroute in Broken Hill, Adelaide, Cook, and Kalgoorlie). After a whopping 24-hour stop in Perth (with a whirlwind tour aided by a fellow travel writer), I would re-board the Indian Pacific and ride it all the way back the 4,000kms and four days to Sydney to arrive in the morning, spend the day in Bondi with a friend, then board the last of my overnight trains back to Melbourne to complete my train journey that, after all is said and done, nears 11,000kms by train in 11 days.

If boredom can elude me in 11,000kms over 11 days, then I will have met my match in trains.

This Series

This Indian Pacific series is intended to give you a sense of what it’s like to travel on the Indian Pacific; from the people you meet, to the scenery you pass by, to simply living life on a train. Long-distance train travel is much less about the destination, and much more about the journey (which is how I justify spending only 24 hours in Perth; something I’ll explain later).

So without ado, please enjoy this multi-part series about riding the Indian Pacific train across Australia (and back)!

INDIAN PACIFIC: DAY ONE

Settling In: Red Sleeper Cabin

I settle into my digs for the first part of the journey from Sydney, which is a Red Sleeper cabin; a twin cabin (which I happen to have to myself, as is generally arranged for passengers if there’s enough room on the train). This cabin gives me a chance to get horizontal in a comfortable bed for the night, and enjoy some private window-gazing time during the days. Meals for all Red class passengers (whether they are staying in sleeper cabins or in the Day/Nighter seats) are ordered a-la-carte in the buffet car, which offers a decent enough selection of relatively innocuous, moderately priced foods.

Passengers who have Red Day/Nighter seats can upgrade to sleeper cabins on-board the train for an extra $150/night (based on availability); this is less than you would pay to book the journey outright in Red Sleeper class, especially if you have a rail pass like the Ausrail pass which entitles you to a Day/Nighter seat on a huge range of Australia’s trains for relatively little money. Although the Day/Nighter seats resemble a business class flight seat with lots of room to recline and legroom abound, I am much happier to have a sleeper cabin and real bed to enjoy, knowing that I am on this train for eight days.

I’d like to be bored, but not sore.

Red Lounge Car

Next, I explore the Red Lounge car; a blessing for the Red Sleeper passengers, and a saviour for the Red Day/Nighter seat passengers if you ask me. For $10/day or $25 for three days, Day/Nighter seat passengers can get access to this lounge car (cabin passengers have automatic access), which includes comfortable seating, views out of both sides of the train, plenty of places to plug in laptops, free tea and coffee, and afternoon tea. Drink a couple of cups of coffee each day, and you’ve basically paid for access to this train carriage, which in turn gives Red passengers extra space to spread out for the long journey.

Meeting Characters

Interestingly though, not all passengers – especially people in the Day/Nighter seats – are traveling all the way through to Perth. Joe, for example, is simply taking the train the one night from Sydney to Adelaide, as he’s doing a reconnaissance mission in preparation for a move to Sydney. I meet a few other people who are only using the Indian Pacific as a commuter train of sorts between Sydney and Adelaide to visit family or do business. I’m told that new passengers will also be getting on in Adelaide for the long haul to Perth.

In fact, there doesn’t seem to be any one theme that defines the people who are accompanying me in Red class from Sydney to Perth. There’s Armand from France: a 20 year old backpacker taking a break from university; and Manuel from Germany, who is a 36 year old engineer and taking a four month career break (something that he does regularly) to travel through Australia and New Zealand.

There’s 29 year-old Mark from the States on a lightning-fast Aussie vacation to attend a friend’s wedding in Perth, an Australian couple in their 40s relaxing on vacation, and a couple in their 70’s who are from different countries and enjoying their rare time together on the Indian Pacific. I will get to know some of these people better (as will you) as the trip goes on.

And of course, not all characters are friend-material, which makes the ride even more interesting.

At one point before dinner, I make a trip to the Red Lounge car with my computer and camera, setting up at one of the available tables with power points. While my computer is loading, I turn around to get a shot of the lounge car with my camera. The woman seated just to the left of my shot lets out a little scream.

“Not in my direction! I’m sensitive to cameras,” she says in a sour tone, as she gets up to move behind me and my camera, face pursed the entire time.

“You weren’t even in the shot. I don’t tend to take portraits of people I don’t know,” I respond, immediately feeling defensive given this woman’s tone, but trying to remain cool.

“You should read more about EMFs. They’re very bad,” she starts, telling me that only once it becomes a problem do we realize how badly EMFs affect our lives. In an attempt to gain some sort of common ground, I respond by demonstrating an understanding of what she’s referring to by discussing the earth’s magnetism, the presence of harmful waves in technology and urban development, and how our bodies respond to it all. “Oh. Well, I’m not talking about the earth’s magnetism here. I’m talking about EMFs”.

Right. I must be thinking about the other electro-magnetic fields she’s referring to.

Moving on, she surveys my electronic domain. “I’m sensitive to that stuff too,” she says with a leering gesture towards my laptop. “Are you planning on staying there?”

As I’ve obviously already staked a claim of sorts in this corner of the train next to this delightful woman, it seems is a rhetorical question.

“Um, yes, as you can see, it was my plan to work here. But if you are sensitive, would you like me to move to the other end of the car? Would that help you?”

In the end, apparently moving my operation to the other end of the car (where, incidentally, there are no power points) is what this sour woman wants. I find it annoyingly ironic when I catch her no more than 15 minutes later….with a camera in her hands.

This woman doesn’t ruin my day, however. Instead I revel in how the differences between people make this world such an interesting place. I celebrate the connections I’ve made already on the train in such a short period of time; some of which I expect to nurture into deeper relationships as we journey across the Australian outback together.

At the end of my first day of riding the Indian Pacific, I’ve not even seen an inkling of the boredom-monster; in fact as usual the time has passed a little too quickly while I’ve gazed out over the Blue Mountains outside Sydney, chatted with fellow passengers, and even written a few small articles.

I go to bed excited for my trip to la-la-land, inspired by the gentle canter of the train.

Editor’s Note: I received a complimentary Ausrail pass from Great Southern Rail, and a free upgrade to sleeper class.

However, as the minutes and hours rolled by, increasing signs of civilization became evident. One of the more impressive (natural) sights of the morning was Flinders Range, a beautiful row of mountains in the distance, and one of the “not-to-be-missed” sights in Australia according to many.

This being my third day, I now had something of a routine on the train: wake up around 7am, get dressed, and enjoy a cup of coffee in my cabin while taking notes and enjoying the view from my bed.

However, this morning, more of my coffee ended up sloshing around in the saucer and on the table than it did anywhere else. Although not uncomfortable, the train track south of Alice Springs was noticeably rockier than the track between Darwin and Alice Springs. This is because the northern part of the route was only complete in 2004 in comparison to the southern part which was (re)built in 1980.

An announcement came through just before my 8:30am breakfast that we were one hour behind schedule, but that it was expected we would make up this time over the next four hours. Considering on my train trip across Canada we were four hours late after the first 48 hours of travel, I was suitably impressed at the time we were making. I’ve come to expect trains to be generally tardy, but so far my Australian rail experiences had proved to be quite the contrary.

I was starting to get antsy about not having any internet connection for what seemed like ages, wondering how many emails were waiting for me, and what online chores I had to do. Only then did I realize that I’d only really been on the train for two days (the entire journey from Darwin to Adelaide is 54 hours).

I reveled in the feeling that this journey (which was coming to a close) felt both lightning fast and epically long. Although the whistle stops in Katherine on day one and Alice Springs on day two were wonderful, they interrupted the rhythm and pace of riding the train that I had anticipated…the marathon journey that I expected traveling from the top to the bottom of such a large country to be. Between the whistle stops, meals, conversations with fellow passengers, and receptions, there seemed to be relatively little “down time”.

When you board a train for a three day/two night journey, you expect to have heaps of time on your hands; you prepare for boredom to set in and bring various tools of entertainment to ward it off. I didn’t even need one of my boredom-conquering tools. Instead, I found myself wishing the trip was longer.

To that end, I look forward to my next train trip, which will be across the Nullabor desert to Perth on the west coast. That particular route doesn’t have as much in the way of whistle stops, and as such I expect to get into a different rhythm during that journey.

We pulled into Adelaide right on time at 12:30pm. I felt a surge of emotion when I got off The Ghan; bringing to an end a world-class experience that had been a desire of mine for years. There really is nothing like taking the train, in my books.

Editor’s Note: I received a complimentary Ausrail pass from Great Southern Rail, and a free upgrade to Gold service.

And today was no exception. The earth was even redder than the day before, the trees were shorter, and there was more grass, hills, and textured landscapes that looked like mountains in the distance. These “mountains” were closer by breakfast, and interestingly weren’t as dramatic as they looked from afar; a testament to how flat everything else is in the Australian outback.

Whistle Stop: Alice Springs

By late morning we arrived at Alice Springs, dead smack in the middle of Australia; about as isolated as it gets. It’s a relatively industrial-looking low-profile town, which isn’t nearly as picturesque as I had imagined. I think I fell into the same trap as many people; conjuring up visions of psychedelic sunsets at Uluru (Ayers Rock) and associating it with Alice Springs, despite a 360 mile gap between the two.

Nevertheless, I was rewarded with dusty greens in the trees and shrubs and contrasting sandy red of the earth: the unmistakable setting of the outback.

My whistle stop activity of choice was to go to Desert Park; a large reserve and animal sanctuary designed to give visitors to Alice Springs a taste of outback nature without having to go all the way to Uluru. Although it was informative and the bird sanctuaries were particularly impressive, much of it was under renovation when I went, and I suspect I would have been happier taking a camel trek.

Ah well. Maybe next time…? I did get some great shots of the wildlife in either case.

Back on the Train…

…I discovered that lots of people embarked at Alice Springs, and were exploring their new digs for the day and receiving their orientations.

I had a chance to chat with the Train Manager for the trip. Being fascinated with train travel in general and the lifestyle of working on trains, I quizzed him about his staff. He had been working on trains for over 30 years, and he still loved it.

I recalled chatting with the staff when I traveled across Canada by train and learning that they love their jobs so much that somebody pretty much has to die for positions to become available. Greg echoed this sentiment – to a point.

“Because staff is based in Adelaide and they’re away for up to a week at a time [with return train trips], it’s hard for some people to cope with,” he said. The unconventional unpredictable schedules and long absences don’t bode well for some lifestyles.

The flip side of the coin is the time off (which ends up cumulatively being almost six months of the year), and the chance to see so much of Australia. Each train manager hires and manages their own train crew, and each crew rotates around Great Southern Rail’s four routes. Although it’s hard work with long hours, these train journeys are often pinnacle experiences for passengers from all over the world, and I gathered the sense that it’s rewarding to enable and be a part of their experience.

Heck – I want to work on trains.

Subsequently, I chatted with a fellow sitting in Red service; a German backpacker who had been traveling the rails of Australia with an Ausrail pass (giving him unlimited access to Great Southern Rail and other Australian train lines) for the last six months.

He had a few bones to pick with the trains; for example he was disheartened that when they refurbished the reclining seats to create more space for passengers, it resulted in some rows not being beside a window. He also felt that just one toilet and shower for the 48 passengers in Red service was not sufficient.

In the same breath however, he said he has another six months in Australia, and will likely purchase another rail pass, so he must have been pleased overall, especially with the value of the passes which range from $590 to $890.

Fire!

Just before dinner and as the sun was setting, I noticed we were passing huge tracts of land that was burning. Although the black smouldering ground seemed to have largely spared the trees and shrubs, the area that was burning seemed almost too large for a controlled burn. I saw no evidence of human intervention or maintenance; I saw no evidence of human life at all.

At the Whistle Stop in Katherine I visited a museum at the visitor centre that discussed the Australian Aboriginal attitude towards fire, which is refreshingly different to the European view:

In light of the sour taste the Victorian Bushfires left in my mouth, it reminded me of the restorative powers of fire in general. So on looking out at the blackened landscape, I chose to see it as an opportunity for re-growth. The sun was full and deep red from the smoke, and set a gorgeous purple hue to the rest of the sky.

(I later learned that these were indeed controlled burns, either set by somebody with a truck who was patrolling, or by planes that fly overhead and drop small balls of fire in strategic places to start the burn).

You never know who’s sitting next to you…

…especially if you don’t watch Australian television very much. On Day One I met a lovely couple (Peter and Marie) at the welcome reception, and we mutually promised to share a meal together before the end of the trip.

It wasn’t until halfway through dinner on Day Two that I discovered Peter is a prominent figure on a daily tv show in Australia, and that with my money-saving tips and techniques we may have an occasion to do some business together. Now all the funny looks people were giving me for unabashedly sitting next to them at the welcome reception and chatting candidly made sense.

Celebrities are people too, you know!

After languishing over dinner and exploring many commonalities (from business to television to journalism to wine), we looked up to realize that not only all the guests had left, but even the crew had eaten and the dining car was closed. I had a quick night-cap before wandering off to bed and sleeping like a baby while the train rolled on throughout the night.

Stay tuned for Day Three of The Ghan adventure from Darwin to Adelaide!

Editor’s Note: I received a complimentary Ausrail pass from Great Southern Rail, and a free upgrade to Gold service.

One of my motivations in returning to Australia for a few months has been to experience the world-class multi-day train journeys that venture through some of the most uninhabitable parts of this sunburned country.

The first of these train journeys that I’ve embarked on has been The Ghan; a three day, two night adventure from Darwin on the north coast through the Red Centre to Adelaide on the south coast. As the train travel evangelist that I am, this 54 hour, 3,000 kilometre journey was not to be missed.

After braving Darwin’s crocodiles and heat for a few days, I boarded the train. I was lucky to be traveling in Gold service, which meant I had my own private cabin and was served 3-course meals in the dining car throughout the journey. (Other classes of travel range from Red service with a sleeper or highly-reclining seat and food for purchase, to the elite Platinum service with ensuite washrooms and room service).

Gold class. Ooh la la! I love my job.

Once acclimatized to the very welcome air conditioning after Darwin’s heat, I explored my cabin. It was the perfect size for one person; cozy but not cramped. (There are also twin cabins available for people traveling together). I stuffed my things into various compartments and went for a wander.

The Ghan's winding corridors

Speaking of which, wandering around on a train is an acquired talent. Although the gentle rocking motion of train travel is soothing, it can also make you look staggeringly drunk if your pace is out of rhythm with the sway of the train. I was grateful for the curved passageways in my carriage, which seemed to anticipate my stumbles from right to left and made me look like I’d been walking on trains for years.

Wait a minute: I have.

I took a seat in the posh lounge car and gazed out the window. There is something hypnotic about watching the world go by from a train. Every time I take a train trip I expect to be very productive with writing or reading, and instead I lose hours simply staring out the window, allowing my mind to wander with the terrain rolling by.

But of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Outside of Darwin there was very little in terms of civilization. Four-wheel driving tracks revealing deep red soil appeared out of nowhere and disappeared into the void of trees and shrubs just as quickly. I occasionally caught a glimpse of a truck, its bottom half stained red from the sand kicking up. I wondered where these people were going, and where they were coming from; there seemed to be very little out there.

But I remember this sense of isolation in Lightning Ridge as well, and had I been on a train past The Grawin I might have had similar thoughts about the few residents who took to the roads.

Despite lunch being a three-course affair, the portions were perfect and I didn’t walk away stuffed. I shared a table with three elderly Australians (many of the passengers in Gold and Platinum service are retired, and for many of them this trip has been a long-standing dream).

Naturally, we chatted about travel.

“I might like to do a cruise some day,” chimed in one lady, while her husband nodded obediently. “Have you cruised before?” she asked me.

“Yes, I took a cruise through the Mediterranean a number of years ago,” I replied.

The husband snorted. “Hmph – not for me.”

“Which?” I asked. “The cruise, or the Mediterranean?”

“The Mediterranean. Who needs to go there? I’ll cruise around the south pacific, maybe to Fiji,” he replied.

Seeing that none of my lunch companions had ever left Australia (nor did they have any desire to), it was not the most stimulating of conversations for me. You can veritably spend a lifetime exploring Australia alone, and given its incredible remoteness in the world, it’s an option that many Aussies choose. But to regard the rest of the world with a disinterest that broaches contempt rubs me the wrong way.

No matter. One of the things I love about train travel is that you really never know who you’re sitting next to (as evidenced on Day Two of my journey – stay tuned), and getting to know them is half the fun.

Whistle Stop in Katherine

A mere three hours after leaving Darwin we arrived in Katherine for our first “whistle stop”: a stop long enough for passengers to disembark and take a tour of the area. I chose to take a shuttle to the Katherine Gorge and do a hike on my own.

With its population of 11,000, Katherine boasts one grocery store, one Target, and a McDonalds opened just five weeks ago – which locals are thankful for because it saves them the three hour drive to Darwin for their fix. Of course, some locals also like to go to Darwin for regular “B&B Tours”, B&B standing for none other than “Beer & Bunnings”. (Bunnings is the equivalent of Home Depot in North America).

The original railway station in Katherine washed away in extreme floods in the 1990’s, and in 2006 further floods inspired all new houses to be built on stilts. They are anticipating severe floods this year (and we’re on the brink of the wet season), so residents are battening down the hatches in preparation.

If you haven’t already guessed, Katherine is a town of extremes, and the weather is no deviation from this theme. The temperature on this day was 38 degrees, and so humid that heavy sweating was inevitable and breathing was difficult.

On arrival at the Katherine Gorge and after dropping other guests off at their respective tours, my driver gave me a quick rundown of the hike. “Head up that path for 20 minutes to the lookout for great views. There’s a loop track, but don’t do it; it’s long, hot, and you don’t see much other than bush,” she said before bidding me adieu and reminding me of the rendezvous time and place.

But I rarely listen to sage advice.

The 20 minute hike up to the lookout took me half the time, and I had an hour and a half to kill. So what did I do? The full loop track, of course. I was reasonably sure I could complete it at 4km (which I usually do in under an hour), and with the sedentary train travel I was eager to get my blood flowing.

One hour later after heat-induced delusions of not making it back in time (or possibly at all) and being stuck in the stinkin’ hot Aussie bush battling for my life, I stumbled into the (thankfully air-conditioned) meeting centre. I was drenched in sweat and flushed in the face, having come dangerously close to full-on heat exhaustion.

The driver looked at me quizzically.

“I did the full loop,” I said, simultaneously defeated (for disobeying her instructions and paying a price) and victorious (for having survived).

She laughed and shook her head. “I told you not to! But I knew you were fit, and could probably do it,” she said, before telling me a few yarns about hikers who have been stranded out there.

Back on the train…

…and after a very necessary shower, I joined the welcome reception in the lounge car and met some more fellow passengers. Among them were Peter and Marie, a couple from Adelaide who drove to Darwin on vacation and were taking the train back home (their car was also on-board). It wasn’t until the following day after enjoying dinner with them that I was to discover just how much we had in common. (You never know who is sitting next to you on a train).

Although you can choose where you sit in the intimate dining car, with tables of four you always end up sitting with somebody. I somehow ended up with the same unfortunate trio from lunch, but at least they were in better spirits as we chatted about our day’s adventures.

After dinner I met Erica and Steve: two 30-something cousins from the UK taking an annual vacation together. Erica was drinking hard and flirting equally hard with the bartender, who did an admirable job of keeping Erica happy without leading her on. He later confided in me that he regularly gets hit on by passengers, but with a generally older demographic in the lounge car, it means a lot of ass-grabbing by old ladies.

Heading back to my room at the respectable hour of 11pm, I discovered that my seat had been transformed into a bed for me. After tucking in to the cozy bed, I was immediately lulled into a deep sleep by train’s comforting rocking motion. Sadly though, the train stopped for five hours (as scheduled) during the night; experience predicates that I actually sleep better on trains that are moving. But the only thing left moving this night was a little too much alcohol sloshing around in my stomach as I tossed and turned.

Stay tuned for Day Two and Three of The Ghan adventure from Darwin to Adelaide!

Editor’s Note: I received a complimentary Ausrail pass from Great Southern Rail, and a free upgrade to Gold service.