Are We There Yet?

Frances and I each decorate ourselves with some Australian fauna.

The cabin’s shower is decent, once one gets used to being a pinball in the shower thanks to the rocking train. And the lighting in the cabin and bathroom is good, which is more than I can say about several of our recent hotel accommodations. (Backlights behind mirrors may be stylistically fashionable but are miserable for shaving or for Frances putting on make-up.)

Our first evening was a disaster for me. All the riders of our class (“platinum”) met for dinner in the dining car. The din was too much for me. I couldn’t even understand Frances as she tried to speak to me during the meal—even with Roger (my hearing aid accessory) assisting. But the food was good as it has been thereafter, mostly. The following meals have been somewhat quieter, thank goodness, with everyone not eating at once and the tables spread out.

The Indian Pacific has 28 cars. As I implied above, I can’t see both ends of the train at once. There are over 200 passengers. The staff serving us are young and friendly. Most of the passengers in our class of service are older, although, to be honest, we are now on the higher end of this older range. And the first Americans we met on board? From Austin, Texas, if you can believe. They, too, have just finished a cruise of the Kimberley, although on another cruise ship.

The first morning after departure was to include a tour of Kalgoorlie and the iconic Super Pit. It was here in 1893 that Paddy Hannan stumbled across serious nuggets of gold, hence igniting the largest gold rush in Australian history. The “Golden Mile” of Kalgoorlie has since produced 38 million ounces of gold. Much of this was and is being produced from the “Super Pit”, a colossal open-pit mine now nearly two miles in diameter and over a half mile deep. The mine operation is still going strong.

I wrote “was to include” as our visit was extremely curtailed. In the middle of the first night there was a medical emergency on board for which the train had stopped for two and a half hours. The tour in Kalgoorlie thus was reduced to a drive-through of a quite interesting town and ten minutes overlooking the Super Pit. Curtailed or not, I am grateful we had at least this opportunity. It’s an awesome sight.

Two bus-window shots of buildings in Kalgoorlie. It’s a quite well-preserved gold rush town. I missed taking shots of the brothel or the Catholic church constructed of bricks made from unrefined ore from the pits, meaning still containing gold. Does a worshiper just chip a piece from the building to put in the offering plate?

Views of the Super Pit. It’s hard to describe how massively large it is. The owners are investing another billion and a half dollars into the mining operation, meaning the gold is far from being played out.

Even with a 3x telephoto taken of operations about half-way down the pit, the machinery looks tiny. The machinery is far from tiny as Frances in the right photo can attest.

One exception to the good-food compliment was the morning snack we received at the Kalgoorlie rail station. The tour originally was to start at 6:00 a.m. before our return for a brunch. The several-hour delay didn’t change this plan. At the station I eagerly accepted the pudding-like offering--and managed one bite. When we finally got our brunch, we were hungry—and, fortunately, satisfied.

The terrain, as we travel east and deeper into the interior, changed from lightly forested to scrub plants. We’re passing through the territory of Nullarbor, which means, in Latin, “no trees”. It’s an accurate title. Earlier we passed Rawlinna, a sheep station with over 30,000 sheep spread over two and a half million acres of land. I didn’t spot any sheep at that time, but later spotted a half dozen cattle, making me wonder how animals scattered over so much territory are ever efficiently rounded up. I know that helicopters are now used—but still. For this stretch the tracks are dead straight for almost 300 miles, the longest such stretch on earth.

Our last stop of the day was in the town of Cook, current population: two. Once a modest town of 200, Cook’s reason for existing, a train stopover, refueling, and train-driver change oasis, is now a minimal operation. Had the night been clearer and the moon less bright (it’s full), the star gazing would likely have been outstanding. We settled for a partial view of the heavens and a tolerable tawny port. In the cool of the evening, those who chose the hot chocolate were happy. It is winter in Australia, after all.

Intended as a star-gazing opportunity, our brief and chilly stop in Cook was devoted to evening drinks and conversation.

Monday morning we were greeted by a sunrise that cast the train’s shadow midway up some distant trees. Small groups of sheep and kangaroos dotted the countryside. One lone kangaroo I saw was immense in size. We even passed a large, very shallow lake, a temporary phenomenon of the wet winter weather.

Our cabin is on the south side of the train, with the rising sun casting the train’s shadow on the distant land and vegetation. These photos through our window don’t quite capture the gold and dark contrast on the passing landscape.

Mid-day we passed a massive wind turbine complex. Someday, perhaps, we’ll figure out how to use less energy producing, transporting, constructing and maintaining these machines than each produces over their twenty-year lives. Plus I know that Australia is working to address the problem of storing the produced energy, with massive batteries in Adelaide, for instance, for periods when the winds aren’t blowing and, for solar, when it’s night.

When we were near Adelaide, we disembarked from the train and were bused to Steppeltsfield Winery in the Barossa Valley for wine tasting and dinner. Neither was a disappointment. The wines were young (the rose bottled just this year) but drinkable, especially after being paired with appetizers. The big treat, though, came when we were all served a tasting of a 102-year-old port. Seppeltsfield Winery was established in 1851, making it one of the oldest wineries in Australia.

Left: The requisite picture of the wine barrels of a winery; Right: Our food-wine pairings. The salmon was my favorite, with or without the wine.

Nearly 200 of us were served dinner at one time at the winery, and the meal was excellent, even without considering the generous pours of the lubricants throughout the dinner and after. A special treat was the band that played during dinner and long after. All the music was vintage American (and some British) pop, played and sung by a guitarist, a violinist and a keyboardist. Most of us danced at least some of the time and the Australian staff seemed to enjoy and dance to the music as much as did we old fogies. The hosts sent us off with one more glass of port. It was a fun night and few of us would have survived a random roadside sobriety test.

Left: Texas line dancing in Australia! Right: An absolutely excellent band, and with good voices.

We re-joined the train late Monday evening at the Adelaide rail station. Yet another glass of port awaited us in our cabin. It didn’t take us long to fall asleep, although, to be honest, we had a tougher time staying asleep that night during the frequent changes in speed and rocking cars.

The rain caught up with us for our morning excursion to Broken Hill, called the Silver City. We had a choice of one of five excursions and we chose the generic Silver City overview. As implied by its name, the city was and is known for its mining operation. Parts of the tour were interesting, but the on-bus part was not our favorite, what with rain-drop covered bus windows and, for me, uncomfortable bus seats. The seats were very upright and, worse, were form-fitted at the top. For medium-sized persons, I’m sure they were quite comfortable. For those of us on the taller side, the curved headrest dug into shoulders and forced one’s posture forward. I finally found relief in the back seat of the bus. One sits on the engine there and the view is only to one side, but at least I could relax.

The town of Broken Hill has many buildings preserved from its early heritage. The home on the right is, shall we say, more modern. The architect claimed these were build to confuse his children when he told them to go stand in a corner.

The weather improved enough to visit the miner’s memorial and enjoy the view of the city below, as well as our waiting train. Yup, there are indeed 28 cars plus two engines.

Left: On the city’s overlook is the Lode Miners’ Memorial, with the names of all miners killed during operations documented, including date and cause of death. Right: A hilltop view of Broken Hill. Our train is below and (in a wider view) we could see our entire train.

The last stop was to visit the city’s Sulphide Street Railway & Historical Museum, which included several smaller museums in the same complex. Sulphide Street, not exactly a conventional street name.

Left: The last steam engine. Right: A Dodge railcar.

A few more of the museum’s trains on exhibit.

Here my notes end, so I’ll make things up now. 😊

Our last morning was a return to the Blue Mountains outside Sydney. It was a repeat of a tour we took in March 2020, but certainly worth the second visit.

Left: A last dawn view from the train. Right: The Blue Mountains, so named as, like the Blue Ridge Mountain range in the Appalachians, the mountains often have a blue haze.

Views from the cable car. Our route actually included two cable car rides and a steep railcar ride once use by miners.

Left: The Three Sisters. On our last trip we hiked to them. This time, a picture sufficed. Right: I took this same photo during our 2020 trip to the park. There was coal mining half-way down the cliff to this and nearby spots.

Left: We walked part of the elevated boardwalk through the Blue Mountains National Park. It’s very much like a rain forest. Right: I lost a staring contest with this raven-like bird.

After the visit to the Blue Mountains, a charter train took us all to Sydney station, where we reunited with our luggage. From there, we and the McKennas were driven to stay the night in a hotel close to the airport. We had a morning flight to catch back to the U.S. Our last supper in Sydney was at an excellent Indian restaurant, found previously by Brian. Brian won’t like this, but he is so good at selecting memorable restaurants, that I’ll defer to his choices as often as possible. An action passed is an action completed. Sadly, we’re not scheduled to travel again with the McKennas for a year and a half, so, until then, Frances and I will have to find special places to dine on our own.

Last thoughts on our train ride:

The train was an unexpectedly rough ride. These are not the smooth rails of European trains and I don’t remember this degree of pitching and swaying on the Trans Canada run, although there was the familiar clickety-clack of the rails. (Maybe it’s the fog of memory erasing the less pleasant moments of the earlier rides.)

The McKennas made it back to their home in 20 hours, hotel to home. We took almost 30, thanks mostly to a miserable connection time. (Over seven hours in the Vancouver lounge) The flights were on time, the meals mediocre to really bad, and the wine satisfactory. The only true aggravation was on arriving at the Austin airport. It took an hour and five minutes before our one checked bag arrived at the carousel. But at least it arrived. (AirTags give one a feeling of comfort that their luggage has indeed made the trip.) I wonder if it was Air Canada or Austin airport that was the problem. We “ubered” home, the first time we have not driven our own car to the airport since 2015 (our six-month European saga). Our driver had never been to Georgetown before, but, with map apps, that is no longer an issue. Despite the $100 charge, I was glad not to have to drive that last hour late at night.

I just learned that Air Canada flight attendants went on strike. We’re home just in time!

So, indeed, we’re home, dead tired, but happy that we have another trip to clog our memories. This third trip to Australia likely will be our last. We’ve been to places in Australia that even most Australian have yet to visit. Nevertheless, we will not be putting away our suitcases. In two weeks, we leave for a month-long journey to Mongolia, China and Tibet. We have 14 days to get our energy and enthusiasm back up to operational levels. Wish us luck—and thanks for reading.

The McKennas and the Dallens drinking a port over 20 years older than any of us--and giving thanks to our continued experiencing of the wonders of world-wide travel.