A Midnight Train To Torture
Trip Start
Nov 08, 2003
1
37
74
Trip End
Oct 22, 2004
The Ghan,
Australia
Friday, July 23, 2004
It was the morning after our red-eye flight from Perth and we found ourselves waking up in the Parkside Motel south of Adelaideís city centre. A leisurely morning was spent watching daytime TV and packing an overnight bag for a certain mythical train trip that evening.
We checked out of the room at the civilised time of 1pm and wandered into Adelaide for a bite to eat at a local Pizzeria, a shop for snacks in Woolies and a stroll around Adelaideís impressive town square complete with arty fountain. Suddenly a few clouds burst over our heads leaving us to walk back to the motel under a deluge where we sat in reception dripping and at 4pm our taxi arrived to take us to the train station.
Half an hour later we arrived at the station and checked our luggage onto the legendary express train
Midnight in the Outback
. Through the crowd we could see a mile long locomotive waiting at the platform so we proceeded immediately outside for another photo opportunity of a lifetime.[Cue imaginary fanfare]
Before our very eyes sitting proudly primed like a thoroughbred horse was the sleek, shiny, silver vision of . . . wait for it . . .
THE GHAN.
Soph stood admiring the magnificent compelling beast for a while then turned away from me to look at the train that would take us 1,500km or so to the red centre of Australia and the town of Alice Springs.
We had digitally captured the moment relentlessly at all angles until our little memory card could take no more when suddenly it was boarding time, but not before the whole embarrassed train crew lined up on the platform in readiness for the Head Steward to make a little speech and after heíd said a few words outlining the journeyís history he yelled ëAll Aboardî followed by a blast of his whistle
Morning in the Outback
. It was all very traditional and kept alive the romance of this celebrated passage through the outback but as soon as we set foot on board the allure vanished . . .
[Time to put a stop to any imaginary fanfares still playing in your heads]
. . . the pictures weíd pored over on the website didnít look anything like the scene we were now witnessing.
We were expecting a cross between the Orient Express and the Space Shuttle. Instead we got a fusion of a National Express and a Heathrow Shuttle, and to make matters worse we were given seats one behind each other. We got around the predicament by swapping seats with a poor girl whoíd already been extradited by another couple and we finally collapsed into our firm-to-the-point-of-hard seats feeling a touch guilty as the girl settled down for the night next to a hulking twenty-stone sheep-shearer.
There was no smiling dolly-bird attendant, no foldaway lap-tray, no magazine, no air-flow adjustment and no pillows or blankets to complement your unyielding seat and as the rain lashed against the window it may well just have been a Monday morning on the 7am from Woolwich Arsenal to Charing Cross
Needs no introduction
.Soon a peed-off looking attendant came out to address our fellow prisoners of Azkaban aboard the Hogwarts Express. He guided us through the doís and mostly doníts for our forthcoming 16 hours then hit the play button on a cheap-looking VCR above his head for the nights entertainment of Harry Potter and the Stoned Philosopher on a 14-inch portable for a carriage of 60 people. The opening credits then drowned out the welcoming speech and outline of the journey from our driver. Jeremy Beadle, please appear now.
We did leave on time though albeit at 10mph for the first section of the journey through Adelaideís northern suburbs and on to the industrial town of Port Augusta, the ëGateway to the Outbackí. After a five minute stop we were on our way again and with Harry Potter and the gang living happily ever after it was off with the lights at a quarter to eleven and everyone had reclined into their sleeping positions. After finding out that an upgrade to a cabin would cost us a hefty £360 we too assumed the position.
Let snoring commence . . .
A Mexican wave of bodily noises was soon reverberating around the carriage, and as luck would have it the guy across the aisle was snoring for Australia complete with a visual effect of continuous body popping
Sunrise over the Outback
. It was a venerable Frog Chorus as we tried in vain to contort ourselves into some sort of comfort zone. 29/5
After four hours of thrashing around and a couple of hours sleep we awoke to the sight of a brightly lit road train keeping pace with us outside our window. It was 5.30am as we sat staring out begging the sun to rise and the buffet carriage to open. The Ghan had crawled through the night keeping watch for wandering livestock and pulling onto sidings to let freight trains through. A single-track 3,000km long led from Adelaide to Darwin and Australians werenít about to start building another track to cater for the odd freight train coming the other way.
7am arrived and we leapt from our seats to make a beeline for breakfast. £4 bought us plates of prize-winning scrambled eggs that were a little piece of Heaven on our train ride to Hell and were without a doubt the best thing about the trip although a plate of poached cat sick would have been a pleasant petit-dejeuner after the night weíd endured.
We sat over empty breakfast bowls as the sun made an appearance at a quarter past seven and soon the driver was on the tannoy with news of an expected arrival time of noon so we went back to our seats to count down the minutes.
We arrived in Alice Springs on time and were met by the sight of drizzle, not what weíd imagined the weather to be, and after fighting our way off we stood around in sub-zero conditions waiting for our rucsacs to appear and after 15 minutes they emerged once the baggage handler had finished watching Jerry Springer.
This had truly been one of the worse nights of our lives and we were well and truly ready to hit the road again in search of a big red rock and a comfortable bed . . . and I know weíre whinging Poms but itís our job.
Harry Potter and the Wizard of Waredehellarewe
xx
