Right now, as I type this, I am sitting in a tiny cabin inside a train carriage. I can look out through the window at the red dirt that covers most of central Australia, but the red dirt is covered with a blanket of recent green grass. Arms of rain have spun off the whirligig of Cyclone Narelle and poured water all over Western Australia and South Australia, and the result is a surprising contrast of vivid rust red and pale, soft green that’s very pleasing to the eye.
The train I’m on is called the Indian Pacific, because it travels back and forth from coast to coast, from Perth — on the shores of the Indian Ocean — to Sydney on the Pacific. It’s a funny little world to live in for a duration of five days. Part cruise ship experience, part luxury, part funky little motel out in the middle of nowhere. My compatriots range from people in their 90s to folks in their 20s, traveling from Australia, the UK, the USA, Canada, and Germany (that I’ve noted so far). Some of them are great conversationalists and some are completely boorish. The vibe definitely skews to retirees, though, and this is not really a trip for those that like to party (that said, there does seem to be unlimited free drinks at the bar in the lounge car).
Before getting on the train, I met up with my dad in Perth, who had flown in a couple of days before from Vancouver. We had one full day together before we embarked on the Indian Pacific, so we hopped on the ferry from Fremantle and rode out to Rottnest Island on what was likely the rainiest day of the year for WA, thanks to the aforementioned cyclone. We got completely soaked, despite coming armed with raincoats. There were some enjoyable moments and we made the best of it, but it definitely wasn’t the day to be out and about on a tour, and the visibility was so low that we couldn’t see much through the fogged up windows of the tour bus.
The highlight of Rottnest island was mainly riding the heritage train, which was really just barely more than a tram with a diesel engine. The sides of the single train car were shuttered with clear plexiglass and you could look out on the wet scenery of the island. The driver offered everyone a turn at the front, and my dad sat at the driver’s seat and sounded the horn with immense glee. I got to see some quokkas in the wild, although they seemed a bit grumpy and unamused with the weather. We spotted a few waterfowl as we went past some of the salt lakes. We traded amused observations with two lovely Scottish ladies who would ironically turn up later on the train. Finally we holed up at one of the bars in the Settlement and had hot tea to stave off the cold, wet, miserable feeling. After an uneventful ferry ride back to our hotel I was praising the two greatest human inventions: a hot shower and dry socks.
The next day we had some errands to sort out and time to kill in Perth, and then by mid-afternoon we took a taxi to the main train terminal. I didn’t realise the train would be almost a kilometer long, so long it didn’t fully fit on the platform at a whopping 800-odd meters. We had to climb on several carriages back from our rooms at the very back of the train and walk through the narrow hallways, opening and closing the series of doors between carriages. The room felt like a tiny ship’s cabin, which for me is perfect. A little snug space that you can close off to yourself, during the day holds two small seats and a table, which at night the staff convert to a cozy single bed. It’s not the kind of room for people who need to or like to sprawl, but having had a portion of my childhood on a sailboat it definitely felt nostalgic and comfortable for me.
We kicked off in the evening from Perth, and had dinner on the train, which was top-notch nosh. If anything has been indisputably good on the trip, it’s the friendliness of the staff and the deliciousness of the food. We settled in pretty early for bed in our little berths to get an early start the following morning in Kalgoorlie.
Kalgoorlie was an interesting place. It had “that look” that small boom towns in post-colonial, late 19th century developments in Australia tend to have. Sometimes you feel a little like you’re on a Wild West movie set. A lot of Kalgoorlie-Boulder was focused on gold mining, which doesn’t hold a lot of personal interest for me, even though I certainly reap the benefits thereof with certain electronics. They took us to the Super Pit, which both awed and confronted me at the same time. Human beings get up to some crazy shit sometimes.
We had a classic tourist trap (I say this with affection) stop at Chunky Timbers, a guy whose ethos I respected although I am usually quite resistant to being marketed to. Maybe it was the cute shop dogs, Bandsaw and Sawdust. Then we had a stint at the Town Hall, the highlight of which was a spectacular hand painted vintage backdrop for the stage. There was a dinky Anzac-themed museum as well (another typical feature of small remote Australian towns it seems). Then it was back onto the train for lunch and hanging out for the rest of the day as the trees petered out gradually to just flat, flat land with a few scrubby bushes and plenty of tufts of green grass that had just sprung up after the drenching that Cyclone Narelle had poured out over the landscape. I dozed for a bit after the early start and after dinner (again, excellent), we pulled up to the ghost town Cook which is still used as a stopping point for trains to refuel and take on water.
The idea was to have some light entertainment, a bonfire, and refreshments out under the stars. Remnant clouds from the cyclone blocked us from seeing much, and the delay getting out was so long that by the time we were able to put our feet on the ground it was very late. My dad and I enjoyed the fresh air and the bonfire for a little bit but we didn’t hang out long and were happy to get into bed after the really long day. We both slept really soundly and woke up to take in the view of South Australia.
And that pretty much brings me to the current day, where we are gradually seeing more and more signs of human activity and getting better mobile reception. Tonight we’ll escape the train for a bit for another tour, which I’m wondering how it will land since we’ll be touring a winery and I’m on antibiotics (long, boring story & not worth the telling). Maybe I’ll do some tasting & spitting and pick out a bottle to take home for later. I’m at least hopeful there will be, as has so far been the case, more good eats!
The main thing that has been successful on this trip is just a way to breathe out and not stress out too much about who, what, where, when or how. Hanging out on a train and being gently guided by friendly people to where I need to go is just the ticket after my recent mental struggles. Some beautiful country, good eats, solid sleep, and time with my dad to just catch up and shoot the breeze are all I really wanted out of this time, and so far it has been 100% mission accomplished.