Training days - from Sydney to Perth on the Indian Pacific

On Wednesday 4 February our train pulled out from Platform 1, Sydney Central Station, bang on time at 2.55pm. It was the start of a 3 day adventure across the biggest island in the world, the great southern continent, home of that swagman sitting by the billibong, Australia.

I first heard about the Indian Pacific train journey in Bill Bryson's The Lost Continent. It immediately struck me as something that I would rather like to do, and as it turns out Grace was keen on it as well, and so we planned our trip to Australia around it, with 3 nights in Sydney before heading off an a trip that would get us into Perth on a Saturday morning, which seemed a logical arrival time to explore some of the city and have some fun before the impending yet inevitable job/flat hunt.

The departure from Sydney was slow. We crawled along as we gave way to the time-constrained suburban trains, slowly moving out of the inner city to the poorer and more run down suburbs in the west. It was a side of Sydney I had not yet seen. So far for me, Sydney had been a city of, basically, money. Now I saw that it was like any other city. On arrival you see the flashy, glamorous place you came to see. After a bit of digging you find the Cannon's Creeks and the Otaras.

The Blue Mountains came and went faster than expected, needless to say they provided some beautiful scenery. The first night was a rather sleepless one. The ride was not what one would call smooth, and everything in our wardrobe-sized cabin seemed to rattle and clang. And the cabin really was something of a wardrobe. There are 2 main classes on the Indian Pacific. We were in the Red Kangaroo class, which is separated into 'Daynighter Seat' - essentially like sitting in an aeroplane for 3 days, from what I can tell - and 'Sleeper Cabin', which we went for. The carriage had rooms on either side, separated by a winding corridor just wide enough to pass someone, provided you were comfortable with pushing past either their bum or front bits. The room itself was a feat of engineering. Floor space was at a minimum. We had a seat each, facing one another, and a little table in between that could be folded into the wall. Once you had folded the arm rests back on the seats the bottom bunk could be, you guessed it, folded down from the wall, and the upper bunk then lowered down from the ceiling. We also had a sink that had no drain in the bottom, but when FOLDED back the water drained down the back of it. I am sure that it must have been the work of German car manufacturers.

On Thursday morning we arrived in the old mining town of Broken Hill, home of BHP Billiton, one of the Goliaths of the mining world. As it was 7am, everything happened to be closed, which was very disappointing. I couldn't get into the museum, or even the local equivalent of Four Square. I was puzzled by the two women walking around with small branches in their hands, when I realised that they were in fact geniuses, as their makeshift fly swats were a necessity. The flies were relentless. Stop for a moment and they were crawling on your face and arms. I reckon I got OOS from the constant swatting. I knew they were all over my back, but rather there than my face. We had actually booked a tour of the town from the train, but the bus left without us, which put us out somewhat.

That afternoon we arrived in Adelaide, which was designed by the same man as Christchurch, which about sums that city up. It was stinking hot and getting back to the train after 3 or so hours was very nice indeed. Our train's crew switched over and we were on our way once again. Sleeping pills and earplugs made the night a bit more pleasant.

The following day saw us arrive in the 'ghost town of the Nullabor', Cook. At population 4 there is not a lot happening in Cook. It exists to serve trains that pass through, and there is an impressive array of postcards, tea towels and teaspoons available for purchase from the only shop. The school is probably haunted and every square inch of ground is swarming with ants. Once again the flies manage to distract the ambling tourist from the sheer vastness of the surroundings, and after a wee walk around and lots of photos the train once more provides a welcome refuge from the heat and insects.

Friday came and as we trundled west we were diverted along a hastily built piece of temporary track. A week earlier the area had been washed out and a freight train had been derailed. It was an impressive sight to see whole carriages crumpled and shipping containers strewn about like toys in a sandpit.

That evening we were treated to Kalgoorlie. The first locals we saw were a ute load of young guys hanging out the window pulling the finger and shouting at the new arrivals 'Mother f***ers! Suck my d***!'. I didn't expect much following this, and the hostile atmosphere in the pubs we ventured into was enough for me to label Kalgoorlie my Least Favourite Place in Australia So Far. At least there was a pharmacy still open to buy more sleeping pills. And impressive lightening storm closing in on the town provided an awe-inspiring sight as the train pulled away and we entered the final stretch.

We arrived in Perth just after 9 on Saturday morning. It had been an adventure for sure, but I think that one more night in those close confines would have been stretching it. I felt for the travellers in the Daynighter seats. I had seen an emu, camels, a wallaby, eagles and dingoes, and visited some of the most isolated towns the continent had to offer. I was sleep deprived and looking forward to a good meal, but I was glad that I had done it, and look forward to one day riding the Ghan, which traverses the continent North and South.

Next time I might save my pennies and go Gold service though.

(Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=77468&id=623332446&l=255af)