From the wet tropics to the dry centre, to wheat fields to urban sprawl, a new train is chugging its way up and down Australia each week. At the beginning of February — to much fanfare and worldwide press coverage (and a few dozen local bottoms mooning by the side of the track) — the Ghan made its first journey from Adelaide in South Australia to tropical Darwin in the Northern Territory.
I made the return journey to Adelaide because, unlike on the inaugural northbound journey when fares were at a premium, on the inaugural southbound trip they were ”ordinary”.
First things first. While the train has been billed as ”new”, it is not the rolling stock but the service that is new. The train carriages date from the 1960s and have been used on the route from Adelaide to Alice Springs, and on the Indian Pacific from Perth to Sydney, for many years. The continuation of the track from Alice Springs to Darwin was only completed last year after a century of politicians’ promises. It is this A$1,3-billion extension of the track that makes the Ghan, named after the Afghan cameleers who once worked in the outback, ”new”.
You don’t ride the Ghan to luxuriate (although the meals and service in the Gold Kangaroo carriages are excellent). You ride the Ghan to cross a continent from north to south (or vice versa) and realise how big and empty this nation is, how wide its deserts, how wet and lush its tropics, and how obsessed some people are with trains.
There were passengers such as Bruce, the president of the Victoria Railway Enthusiasts’ Club, who noted every stop — to the minute — on the train’s 2 979km journey, throughout the night and day. There were others who’d travelled up on the inaugural journey to Darwin and then turned around and gone back: that’s four nights on a train. And then there were the two old boys who sped along the Stuart Highway, chasing the 100kph train from Adelaide to Darwin in their car, taking pictures on the few occasions when the road goes near the track. They did the same for most of the return journey.
Apart from train buffs and the over-50s, the train will also appeal to backpackers. A new Great Southern Railways fare makes Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, Perth, Alice Springs and now Darwin, accessible for just A$450 during six months’ unlimited travel. This is for the seated carriages but the ticket can be upgraded to a sleeper compartment.
The ”sit-ups” or Daynighters in the Red Kangaroo carriage are an experience not to be taken lightly. Up to 62 passengers fit in one air-conditioned carriage with just two showers and two toilets and, after two days and nights, it would be, well, an experience, and a malodorous one at that.
”I fall asleep sitting in front of the TV every night, I should be used to it,” said an old dear having her breakfast of toast, served in a paper bag, in the Red Kangaroo canteen. Meanwhile, back in Gold Kangaroo, the linen tablecloths are starched and the cutlery is shiny. The food is modern Australian. Dinners feature dishes such as barramundi fish with braised capsicum and desert lime aioli.
The cabins are basic but comfortable, although they would be snug with two occupants. Everything is fold-away: beds, table, and even the toilet and hand-basin in the en suite shower.
If you’re travelling in a large-ish group, the best option is to hire a private carriage, such as the Prince of Wales carriage. This is old-world luxury: beautiful wood and rich furnishings. The carriage sleeps 10 and has a private lounge.
A Gold Kangaroo sleeper is expensive — A$1 740 one-way. A trip on what is now being dubbed (by the train people) the ”legendary Ghan” is not a budget option. Even one of those A$440 ”sit-ups” is about the same as a cheap Qantas flight from Darwin to Adelaide (or vice versa). Nor do you travel on the Ghan for speed: it trundles along fairly leisurely, allowing for lots of scenery-viewing time and making scheduled stops at night for an hour or more. It even makes two sightseeing stops during the 48-hour journey from Darwin to Adelaide.
When the train reached Katherine (”where the outback meets the tropics”), we went on a boat tour of Katherine Gorge — now known as Nitmiluk. At the visitors’ centre, pictures portrayed the harsh life of early settlers building the overland telegraph between Adelaide and Darwin, and the slavery endured by Aborigines.
Back at the new Katherine train station, Nola, a woman from Katherine Region Tourist Association was promoting the joys of the area.
Also at the station, braving the rain — it rains a lot in the October to April wet season — local schoolgirls were eagerly chatting to embarking passengers. The girls were studying tourism and the Ghan was part of their project.
One student, Alysia, told of her holiday fun: she goes hunting for feral pigs with her nine dogs. When she’s stabbed the pig and killed it, she cuts off the head and leaves it to rot in her garden.
She keeps the tusks as a trophy. They’re tough in the Top End. After the first night on board, we arrived in blisteringly hot Alice Springs or ”Alice” as locals call it. We boarded a bus for an inclusive excursion and went to the new 1 500ha Desert Park. In the dimly lit nocturnal house, one of the exhibits in the park, old folk from the Ghan were shuffling around, arms outstretched.
”I can’t see a bloody thing,” said one, as he passed a glass box containing a fat-tailed pseudantechinus. Outside, under a thatched shelter, a young Aboriginal man named Hugh explained how his people regularly dined on insects such as honey ants and the infamous witchety grub. ”When I was a baby, my mum used to give me the heads to chew on,” he said.
The iconic red desert landscape viewed from the train is currently quite green. Desert oaks and eucalypts poke through the spinifex, somehow eking a survival from the rust sand. For hours on end there is no sign of human or animal life. (Someone claimed to see kangaroos and camels — perhaps I was too busy with another sparkling shiraz in the lounge car?) After leaving Alice we crossed the world’s oldest river — the Finke — which was just a dry, rippled sandy bed. It very rarely flows but is an important meeting place for local Aborigines who call it Larapinta, which means serpent. Aboriginal people gather along the river at permanent waterholes — which represent chapters in their ”dreaming” of the landscape.
On one side of the train, the sun was lowering in the cloudless sky and the daughter of the creator was on her way to bed with her flaming torch. And, on the other side, the moon man was rising with his fire-stick, showering sparks across the sky.
The next morning, the Flinders ranges were silhouetted against the lightening sky. The landscape had changed. There were fields, roads and telegraph poles. Our 43-carriage, one-kilometre long, Ghan was nearing Adelaide.
”The front section of the train will arrive at Keswick terminus between 9.30am and 9.45am, the rear section at about 10am,” announced Kathryn, our steward.
”It’s been a pleasure having you on board the legendary Ghan. We’d like to wish all our guests a very good morning and goodbye to you all.” — Â