Holiday Idea: Australia by train
In the first of a new series on Journeys, Peter Hughes enjoys a leisurely passage by train from Adelaide to Sydney, taking in the vistas and vineyards along the way
They called it the 'baby train' because it had only 20 coaches; the biggest have up to 35 and are around a kilometre long. As it was, we still had to board in a special terminal in Adelaide's rail freight area. There is a presence about big trains: just standing in the station they have a hauteur. And big trains have names - this was the Indian Pacific. Its coaches, now nearly 50 years old but recently refurbished, are tall and silvery and hauled by two hulking locomotives. The route, between Perth in the west and Sydney, 2,700 miles to the east, runs like a Plimsoll line along the bottom of Australia. It traverses two pages of the atlas and takes almost five days to do so. The train's name comes from the oceans at either end.
I joined in Adelaide, three days into the journey from Perth, and travelled in style in platinum service. My cabin had a shower and loo, and a rather upright banquette that became a firm double bed at night. Gold service cabins are half the size and mostly have bunks. Red service has reclining seats, communal showers and a café. In platinum, you have a lounge car and a separate restaurant serving unfancy fare, such as lamb shanks with mashed potato and gravy.
We trundled out of Adelaide, quickly exchanging the tower cranes in the city centre for gum trees and sparse grassland. It would take another 1,058 miles and 24 hours to reach Sydney. By air, it takes a twelfth of the time, but flying these days is a delivery system. This was travel, in touch with the land in every sense. By air, I wouldn't have had a day among the Barossa vineyards - a new excursion from the train. We sniffed, swirled and savoured wines at two cellars, before lunching at Maggie Beer's Farm Shop, something of a foodie shrine in Australia, thanks to Maggie's many TV appearances.
We stopped in the middle of the Outback for another tour at Broken Hill - a remote and weirdly romantic mining town of frilly Victorian architecture, which attracts as many artists as miners these days. Above the town, mounted on a hill, stands a sombre memorial to 814 miners who died in accidents, the first in 1885. On the train, tea was served in the cabin. The track, until now varnish smooth, began to fidget and wriggle. 'A bit rocky isn't it,' said Gloria, my stewardess, as she collected the tray. Cloistered in air-conditioned unreality, we charged across an arid heath of orange sand. A low range of sunburned hills sprawled on the horizon. That night, the rails felt rough and knobbly.
And so to Sydney, Australia's most vibrant city. It may have the energy of New York, the climate of Cannes and a setting as spectacular as San Francisco's, but our approach was sylvan. In the morning, the windows opened on hills shaggy with pasture. The train was climbing into the Blue Mountains. Outside there were cows and cockatoos, woods and water - streams, ponds and puddles in the lanes. Gloria served me breakfast. Sydney awaited.
Ways and means
Peter Hughes was a guest of Great Southern Rail (greatsouthernrail.com.au). Advance tickets for Adelaide to Sydney, booked at least six months ahead, start at $AUS739 (about £350) for gold and $AUS1,299 (about £620) for platinum. Platinum fares include all local transfers to and from the train.
Taken from the January 2016 issue of House & Garden.
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