Perth to Sydney

by Lynn Hurton

"Oh the Indian Pacific spans the land!" is the song churning, yet again, out of the speakers. I smile. It means another passenger information relay, recorded many years earlier by the veteran Australian actor Charles "Bud" Tingwell, to which few listen and about which even fewer care. It is usually played when one has already visited the area, or when one will do so hours later, so it all tends to be totally meaningless. Still, it avoids the in-train crew having to speak to us mere mortals any more than necessary. Many of them do not know the information anyway. In many respects, in Gold and Red Kangaroo Class, they merely serve the function of waiters, bar staff and chambermaids.

They say that it is the staff who make a train. The Indian Pacific train journey (Perth to Sydney via Adelaide, or the reverse) is advertised as being one of the world's great train journeys. For the sheer quality of the scenery or off-train tours, that could well be true, but the experience can be sadly lacking in some ways. One's fellow passengers tend to make for a convivial atmosphere and the all-inclusive meals in Gold Kangaroo Class are delicious, too.

However, one can see, or avoid, the world as much as one wishes. The passenger lounge is fine but lacks atmosphere and seats... there are far too few of them. It makes it all too easy to hide away in one's single or double cabin/cubicle between meals and tours and see nothing and no one. It can be the loneliest trek in the world. The cabin is tiny with a minuscule wardrobe, day seat, pull-down bed and pull-down wash basin. Two toilets are at one end of the long and winding carriage and two showers at the other. Double cubicles have the luxury of an en-suite, whereas the poor single passengers have to traipse down wobbly, long and winding corridors in the middle of the night, remembering to make oneself decent first. At least there are single cubicles/cells. One does tend to feel somewhat like a hermit in them after a while...

There are off-train tours at Kalgoorlie (super pit and ladies of the night), Cook (ghost town in the middle of the Nullarbor Plain: population 4), Adelaide (where architecture and parks abound) and Broken Hill (Art Galleries and the Flying Doctor Service). However, these do not always take place at convenient times (11pm in one case) and if the train is running late, as it often is, they do not take place at all.

You can laze all day, but you have to get up very early each morning, like it or not. A 6.15am call is in fact 4.45am when one has changed time zones overnight. It's inhuman! One could say that no one travels by train anyway if they want to sleep. The only way to gain a decent night's sleep on the first night out of Perth is to avoid the 20$ 11 pm Kalgoorlie trip to the floodlit gold super pit and that is a pity. The 3+ hours stop in Adelaide does allow one to stretch one's legs or to enjoy a $22 coach tour around the city. It could also mean a long wait at the rail terminal which is 4kms out of the city and at which there is a dearth of taxis. It is not all pure luxury!

The on-board Platform magazine (issue 2 of the year) ran out at the end of June, but was still being used in mid-August. It does give useful facts about the key sights and the train itself, but one now has to pay $1.50 for a detailed route planner... the very same interesting planner which was free a mere two years ago.

All off-train tours cost from $20 to $30, apart from the free walk around the dwindling buildings of the Cook ghost town in the middle of the Nullarbor Plain (which can be viewed in 10 minutes, but where one passes at least 45 minutes). There are almost no buildings left in the once thriving town which used to serve the railway network so faithfully until 1995. In those days the town possessed a hospital, school, swimming pool, Post Office, cricket pitch, golf course, airstrip and cemetery. Now few buildings remain other than the school, old gaol cells, public lavatories, a telephone kiosk and a souvenir shop. The four remaining residents faithfully service passing freight and the twice weekly Indian Pacific passenger trains (in both directions). Soon there will be nothing left. The town decays more every time one passes through. Such is Progress...or maybe not?!

The carriages are at least 35 years old and have a 50 year shelf life. One has the feeling that they will not be restored, simply dumped and replaced! That is a crying shame! It should be a timeless, luxurious rail journey, but there is a sense of something being lacking in so many areas and of one not-quite receiving what one has paid for. Red Kangaroo class gives one a bed, but you buy all of your own meals on the train. There are also cheap daynighter seats, but three days sleeping seated upright among all and sundry can try the patience of the most seasoned traveller.

As to the food, it was on the whole delicious. Lamb shank was a particular favourite, as were desserts accompanied by King Island double cream. However, rock solid potatoes and pumpkin gave a whole new meaning to al dente and the glass of wine (extra cost) ordered to accompany the meal twice arrived as the dessert was being plonked down on one's table. On the day of our ultra early morning awakening (6.15am which was really 4.45am) we were given a box containing cereal, milk and a very dry nut muffin. Nobody consumed the latter, whereas the former was eaten through necessity. No wonder there was a huge queue at the Adelaide Station cafe (which we reached at 7am-really 5.30am) for a "real" breakfast. Egg and bacon bap had never tasted so good! Despite superb food the service ranged, on the whole, from passable to slow. Simply plonking dishes down glumly is not the "done thing" when one has paid for luxury. The youngsters could have learnt a lot in this respect from their older colleagues, who could give service with a smile and a joke.

The first highlight was a champagne reception for Gold Kangaroo passengers. Two sips of something which resembled paint stripper in a badly overcrowded lounge and I wished I had stayed in my cabin. Sadly, so did many other guests. At least it gave us a topic of conversation, even if for unexpected reasons!

Each carriage has a hospitality attendant, who one only sees at mealtimes or with a wake up call, but who ensures that there is a ready supply of tea bags, coffee sachets, milk, sugar and biscuits for those wishing to imbibe. This facility is situated opposite the lavatories. One ironically tends to collect yet another polystyrene cup of caffeine when one has just visited the latter! Still, it help to pass the time and ensures regular exercise to avoid DVT!

One's bed is put down during supper and raised during breakfast; although one can reverse the process should one wish. There is a tiny waste bin in the carriage which fills within moments of entry and one discovers that there is nowhere else to dispose of anything. One can be over environmentally friendly; a floor strewn with "bits" from an overflowing bin does not look at all luxurious. One has to book luggage in at least one hour before departure, which does tend to lead to a lot of hanging around. A railway station is not an airport, neither is a train an aeroplane.

As to the bumpiness of the train...it is legendary! One can, and does, get used to the "rocking, rolling and riding". Many passengers complained of having slept little, although that tends not to matter when one has the whole day in which to do almost nothing (unless one is eager to sit in uncomfortable chairs in the tiny lounge, read old newspapers and converse with one's fellow inmates).

Taking a shower on the train is an experience! Those who reside in single cells/cabins need to weave their way down the carriage still, albeit scantily, clothed, but there is nowhere safe and dry to hang any items of clothing.. So the inevitable occurs-everything gets soaked! One returns to one's cell and has to get dried off all over again, wondering where to hang all the soggy clothing. Cleanliness evidently comes at a price!

There are hours of sheer nothingness as one crosses the Nullarbor Plain. Only Cook breaks the monotony, but there is so little there. The Del Amitri song Nothing Ever Happens kept springing to mind ("the Martians could land in the car park and no one would care"). It helps to count the kangaroos, wallabies, camels, dingoes or emus! The wildlife is spectacular and unexpected throughout.. .as are the sunsets. I will never forget the constellations of stars either, nor my first sight of the Southern Cross. As for the wedge tailed eagle... words fail me!

One is given a printed certificate and tie pin to prove that one travelled the Indian Pacific in the "luxury" of Gold Kangaroo Class. One has to write in one's name and date on the pre-printed certificate in order to prove that "you travelled on one of the world's greatest and longest train journeys". Long it is; great...the jury is still out on that one!

Is it worth it? It is an amazing experience, but it could be far better with attention to detail! Great Southern Railway needs to get its act together if it does not wish to become a white elephant. The nostalgia will not appeal forever if one is not given the full first class of service that one expects and has paid for. Although it was excellent in small parts, it was sadly lacking in so many others, which is a crying shame. It could, and should, have been so much more.

First published in VISA 71 (February 2007)