The Train

Yes, where have I been....

Actually, on holiday as you know with crap weather, but we are now home.

One of the anticipated highlights was the trip across the Nullarbor on the Indian Pacific train. By comparison to our train travel in Vietnam and Egypt, this was truly civilized. There were clean sheets, en suites and even..... toilet paper. Wow. You might recall after two consecutive nights on the trains in Vietnam, enthusiasm for train travel was waning, so it was quite remarkable that I managed to convince the crew to get on another one. Oh that's right, I didn't ask them, I just booked it.

We arrived at the train station in Perth and it was like pensioner's day at the pokies. I'd joked that Geoff and I would drag down the average age by 20 years - but it was true. It was us, two other families and 200 people aged over 70.  'Don't think it'll be rowdy' I quipped on FB. 'Just wait til bingo!" responded my friend Deb. But there was no bingo.

Having boarded the train just before noon, we sorted out our cabins and set off for the lounge and dining car. And that's where we found everyone - in the bar - and drinks are included! And it's not the cheap stuff either - I kicked off with a glass of Vasse Felix bubbles and pretty much took it from there. We played Scrabble, Uno, dominoes and Connect Four. (Geoff asked what the point of that game was. Elle and I thought it was pretty apparent, but apparently not.) We read books, napped, ate and drank - and then did it all again.

The train pulled in to Kalgoorlie about 10pm and those of us who'd stayed up late (many of the oldies had indeed gone to bed) piled onto buses for a town tour - which was surprisingly good - or maybe it was that I was kinda relaxed on the Vasse Felix! We saw the gold mine that runs 24/7 and climbed into one of the huge trucks they use to transport the dirt to the extraction plant. And of course we had a quick look at Hay Street where the ladies of the night still run a reasonable trade, despite the population shift away from being mostly blokes and at least one brothel now being a 'romantic' bed and breakfast.

Indeed, for a town that's less than 30,000 strong, 26 pubs, many bragging 'skimpies' (girls clad in not much), does seem a tad excessive and not quite as 'family' as they now like to think they are.

The next day was again filled with eating and drinking and views of the desert. Here's a picture.

And here's another.

And one with a filter.

Get the picture?

In fact, the name Nullarbor is Latin (not aboriginal as sometimes thought) and very obvious. 'Null' as in none/nothing and 'arbor' as in trees (as in arborists the tree doctors or arboreal animals, meaning tree-dwelling).

Just before (or after - I can't remember!) pre-lunch drinks on day two, we pulled into Cook, a tiny town just inside the South Australian border. I actually did this same train journey in reverse when I was about 13 and Cook was a highlight. The kids from the school were so excited to see people from the train. But these days, the school is closed, the pool is filled with dirt, the tennis courts are decaying. the jails are empty and the population is a staggeringly tiny four.

At one stage, Cook boasted a hospital which they viewed as their salvation as the privatisation of the rail system threatened the town's continuance. And someone should have been in advertising!

Back on the train for a bite of lunch and a glass of very lovely red (or two) before yet another nap. Then it was time for pre-dinner drinks and dinner and bed. It was extremely relaxing! 

The train arrived in Adelaide at just after 7am where we disembarked for a weekend of more wineries and touring.