>Day One, departing Perth on time at 11:55am. I did wonder at one point if there would be room for me. When I boarded the train and took up my seat, I was surprised to find out that an elderly couple were also allocated my seat number. I say surprised, I did change my booking one hour after making it, realising I still had a parcel to pick up in Perth which I had sent on from Sydney (ironic now that I am going back and have had to pay to have it redirected BACK to Sydney!). When I changed the booking the agent asked if the seat number was the same to which the answer was yes; it was a double booking waiting to happen really. At no point on checking in luggage was this picked up on – there was no passenger manifest for checking off passengers who had checked-in. Qutie funny really that when I spoke with the train guard that my name was not even included on the latest passenger manifest. After a 15 minuture wait, with only 2 minutes before departure I was thankfully allocated another seat.
Drama over, of the many carriages the Indian Pacific pulls, only one on this train at least is allocated to economy passengers, with a second as a lounge and a third as dinner. The countless others are Gold Class, with one for cars. Ok, the seating is better than I thought. Instead of an economy airline seats there are seats which could comfortably pass as club class. They recline about 30 degrees with ample leg room.
Leaving Perth we cruised at a leisurely 85kph approximately, passing through the avon valley heading towards our first stop, Kalgoorlie. At 18:00 the diner began to serve its dinner menu. For a glorified, oversiezed cigar tube with no-where to go when in motion, priceses were reasonable. Glancing at the menu the ‘Train Roast’ at $12 immediately jumped out, having craved a roast for the last 10 months. Upon ordering and receiving my meal, I can only say what a great disappointment it was to see, but more over to eat. The roast was nothing more than battered road-kill (a chicken burger to you and I, or a schnitzel if you want to get local), with carrots, potatos, and an orange vegetable, which from look no taste could I identify. Thankfully the glass of Lindmans Shiraz I ordered helped wash it down. After a deflating lunch we arrived around 22:30 to kalgoorlie and had around 3 hours to pass before the train was scheduled to leave around 01:30. For those interested, $25 could buy you a ticket on a tour bus of the town at night, and a view of the 24hr open cast mine that operates there. Alternatively, as I did, some of us walked in to town prefering to check out the local watering holes. To say the least, the Exchange, which came recommended by someone who has embarked on this journey more than once, can be described as your typical outback pub. Bar staff (all female) wear skimpy outfits; less if enough tips are made! They are, unsuprisingly enough, referred to as the Skimpies. Slightly more expensive than a city bar, but then that’s to be expected.
It is as this juncture that I should perhaps dispel any grandiose ideas of travelling on a rail saver (economy) ticket (if my meal description was not enough!), on what is arguably one of the ‘greatest’ rail journey’s (great in that it does stretch from the Indian Ocean to the Pacific, crossing the entire continent of Australia). Sleeping in the afforementioned carriages is somewhat awkward. Having stayed up until 3am talking after leaving Kalgoorlie, hoping tiredness would overcome the crampt sleeping arrangements, try as I may to settle to sleep I failed miserably. Everytime I would begin to drift, my neck would ache or a leg would become numb. I expected nothing better. Walking from the lounge to my seat in the dimly blue lit cabin was like walking through the wreckage of a train crash. Bodies were draped over seats, lying on floors tucked up so as not to obstruct the central walkway too much, and people propped up against windows. And to think there are two more nights of this to come!!!!
Day two. Early start. No sleep so went to lounge at 04:15. Read the local Kalgoorlie Miner before returning to try and sleep again. Just stared in to the darkness, the abyiss that was by now the Nullabor, before watching with intent the sky brake in to dawn. Pulled over to let west bound IP pass before continuing on the longest straight stretch of rail in the world, stopping at cook circa midday. Not much in cook (and nothing before but burnt earth and a worn blanket of fauna). Township of 7 people in what has to be one of the bleakest towns to live on earth. I did, however, manage to part with $40 on two original oil paintings. I was hoping they’d hang side by side, as a pair (yes, I know you’re supposed to group in three’s), but given one is an enlargement of the other, and there are two suns it wouldn’t quite work. Still, they are easy to appreciate, and a reminder of this isolated outpost.
To add to our already accumulating delay of 30 minutes, 15mins was spent searching for a camera belonging to one of the passengers, who apparently dropped and did not notice their camera. I know I’ve lost things in the past and not noticed (namely the entire contents of a black bin liner when I went to V Festival last year, including an air matress and sleeping bag), but to lose a camera and not notice takes this stupidity to another level. I’ve no idea if the camera was found or not, but after the incurred delay we finally departed Cook, leaving behind the at-the-moment 5 inhabitants to await the arrival of the next freight train. The scenary didn’t change much until we reach the end of the 600 odd kilometer stretch that is the straightest track in the world. Then, as the track changes as did the landscape. Uculyptus become more adbundant, marking an increase in the amount of available water to sustain their growth. Some hours on we pass yet another small outpost named Barton. Here lives a man who once worked to maintain a stretch of the Adelaide – Perth track, but now is retired and lives in what is literally no more than a tin shack. No water. No electricity. More bleak than cook really, given his only companionship is are his many dogs. According to the interrupting public PA system, train staff often throw him some Milo amongst other things to help him along.
Dinner tonight was mildly better. The menu the same, although the roast meat actually resembled something like roast beef, I opted for the safer Jacket Potato and Chilli Con Carne with sour cream, garnished with spring onion. This was helped down by a glass of chardonnay, kindly offered by a German lady with whom I was chatting over dinner. Influenced, I went a bought a half bottle of red for myself and reciprocately shared with said lady in the hope that this eve I’ll at least get some sleep. I write this now 23:09 (GMT + 9.5 hours, excluding daylight savings), not the slightest bit tired. Sigh. We are scheduled to arrive in Port Augusta at 02:00, and then on to Adelaide where we apparently arrived on time, circa 07:20.
Day three, we arrived in Adelaide ahead of schedule, at 07:10. On reaching Port Augusta before Adelaide I switched on my mobile and received a message from Andrea, manager of My Place, Adelaide. What a coincidence! We had three hours to wait in Adelaide so I caught a taxi from the train station to the hostel to suprise her. To say her face was a picture would be an understatement. I timed it well too, arriving just as she was openning the shutters to reception. When I peered under and she saw me there she looked a little more than surprised :p We chatted over coffee before she very kindly returned me to the station to continue my onward journey to Sydney. Another 24 hours aboard the Indian Pacific, stopping at Broken Hill sometime around 4pm. An extra carriage has been added so there are a few more vacant seats in the extra carriage to take advantage of. Much needed given it has been 3 days since I last slept (not that I’m feeling tired at all now. Four of us were up all night talking in the lounge car, which passed the time considerably).
We arrived at Broken Hill on time. Pulling in to the station one could be mistaken for being in some far flung corner of the Soviet Union. This town is, for now, still a town built in, around and literally on mining, and there is no escaping this fact. It’s stark contrast to the open sprawl of adridness that exists mostly between Broken Hill and Adelaide. We stopped here for just over two hours, enough time to fit in a Hungry Jacks (Burger King to Brits) and a brief walk around the main high street. This was the last stop before reaching Sydney – a further 14 hours ahead! Those 14 hours must be the longest of my life, thus far. I did manage to fit in some sleep taking my total sleep over the 3 nights, 4 days to a whopping 4. Travelling through the night there was little to see or do besides read, chat or watch the on-board movies which were put on now and then. When dawn did break it was to a view remincent of home. A mute grey hung over the land, steadily leaking. Hard to think but 12 hours gone the land was a stark red with shrubs for kilometer upon kilometer. It’s a shame the weather was so poor as the train snaked its way through the Blue Mountains. A greater shame that it should rain on my return to Sydney! Time to head north if this keeps up…
lee ibbotson 