Indian Pacific Review Perth to Sydney

The Walking Critic ~ the travel and lifestyle blog of an award-winning writer and entrepreneur - Indian Pacific Review Perth to Sydney

Indian Pacific Review Perth to Sydney

I inherited ‘train fever’ from my mother, which meant that I spent most of my subsequent years worrying about being on time, for just about everything… and pretty much anything.

“Missing the train” was simply not an option, unless you wanted to be knee-capped!

And such was the case with my upcoming rail adventure. I had been offered a complimentary cabin, aboard the Indian Pacific, for a four-day rail journey, from Perth to Sydney. There was only one major hitch: I had no date!

My orders were simple, “Have your bags packed and ready to go.” 

I literally did just that, my mother’s words still ringing loud inside my head, “Don’t be late!”

Having my suitcase ready to roll, for a journey that had not been set, took my obsessive punctuality to a whole new level of compulsive behaviour. Yet the discomfort was not long-lasting. As it so turned out, I only had a further five days or so to wait.

I was, as ever, ready. One eye on the door, one hand on my suitcase, one toe on the platform.

 

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about the journey

The Indian Pacific is one of the most iconic train journeys in the world, cutting across the Australian continent from Perth on the west coast, to Sydney on the east. It stretches approximately 4,352 kilometers (or 2,704 miles), connecting the Indian and Pacific oceans with one of the longest train routes in the world.

This incredible rail journey is not your average excursion. It is an epic, all-inclusive, luxury voyage. It is defined by diversity. From the lush hills of the Swan Valley and the flowing Avon River, to the stark and barren Nullabor Plain. A contrast of wild camels and desert sand, pitted against sudden bursts of greenery, vast swathes of grape vines and the rising beauty of Adelaide’s Barossa Valley. Even the Blue Mountains above Sydney throw another eye-opening adventure onto the table.

For today’s traveller, the Indian Pacific traces the exploration of mining glory. It follows the same vein, that some of our forefathers may have taken, as they chased their fortune and riches. The pioneer’s quest for gold in Kalgoorlie and its expansion east through Cook and Rawlina. The silver, lead and zinc ores found at Broken Hill. Even the coal pits of the Blue Mountains in New South Wales are part of your modern journey. 

I am no stranger to rail travel. My past is filled with many happy memories and extraordinary events. Flashbacks were beginning to make me smile.

 

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the morning departure

The one thing I love about the Indian Pacific is its civilised departure time from Perth: 10.00 am. If you’re a punctual, early bird like me, time is on your side.

There are no groggy, red-eyed starts.  No need for wake-up alarm calls. Even the birds will have long-gone from their dawn chirping chorus, before your first stir.  

When you do arrive at the East Perth Terminal, there are no long lines filtering you through customs or immigration. There are no body scans or drug swabs. Even your hand luggage is ushered onto the train, unzipped and untouched. iPads and personal devices stay where they belong: in your hand luggage.

To the contrary, everything, with your Indian Pacific journey is seamless and classy, before you even enter the train terminal.

Just as it is supposed to be.

 

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check in and boarding

The East Perth terminal is a rather drab building, that parallels the rail track on the urban outskirts. It is by no means bustling like other capital cities in the world. To the contrary, it feels somewhat lonely and all-forgotten.

Even though it was a Sunday morning, I expected the inside to be teeming with expectant travellers, yet nothing could have been further from the truth.  Most of the interior shops and canteens were locked up and lifeless. Only a manned check-in desk,  resting to one side of the marble walkway, gave hint to life. Here the Platinum Class customers received another taste of their priority treatment.

For the rest of us “lowly” Gold Class customers, like myself, check-in was another make-shift counter on the platform itself. Here, a smattering of Journey Beyond staff bedecked in signature Aussie slouch hats and warm vests, were faultlessly processing two lines of passengers. Their distinctive uniforms in keeping with the luxury and refined aesthetic of premium rail journeying. It was such a smooth and peaceful process that merely required a photo ID and a booking reference number.  

 

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boarding

There’s no official signal, or toot-toot, when it’s time to board the train. But if you see a bunch of promotional flags, fluttering intermittently along the platform, close to each carriage door, that is a sign to hop onboard. Mind you, train staff are there to help you at every moment. And better still, the platform is level with the carriage. For those with any mobility issues, there are no steps to navigate…at least not here. Later on, at other stops along the rail track, you will have to clamber up and down about four steps, to make the best of excursions.  

Again, there are plenty of staff to help, if needed.

For me, the process was amazing. I was escorted onto the train by one of the Journey Beyond team (whom I seem to remember came from Lancashire in England). She led the way and guided me to my Gold Twin cabin.  

It’s hard not to feel captured by that old-world, classic charm of rail journeying, the moment you step on board. You are instantly struck by the superb wood panelling that runs full course of the long, thin corridor. Rich and inviting.

Parallel and opposite runs an intermittent line of rectangular, low-lying windows. These too flow the full length of the corridor, casting a warm, honey-coloured glow that lights up the cabin doors and wooden walls. Even the brass door handles capture the light.

 

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my gold twin cabin

Cabin numbers are illuminated high above each compartment. There are nine cabins in each Gold Twin carriage and my home, for the next four days, from Perth to Sydney, was cabin E7.

Gold class service is akin to economy class on airlines, except that this form of transport is way classier, much more comfortable and actually quite spacious. It is long and deep, though not massively wide, largely because you do have your own ensuite bathroom in another room. And better than aircraft, you can stretch your legs!

The only downside to rail travel is storage. You barely have anywhere to stow your bags. You need to practice the art-of-packing-light, especially in small cases, if you can!

As with the passageways, your cabin is fitted with wooden walls and doors. Handles are brass and shiny. The seating is upholstered in a tough green fabric. Head rests are a beige leather. Easy to clean.

The cabins are well lit too, especially from the overhead lights and side alcoves. On top of this, there is plenty of natural light, which floods in from your window during the day. At night time, there are no curtains to close. Probably a good idea on trains. Instead, you have Venetian blinds that are built into the window itself. These you can wind up and down, using a round handle.

When you check into your cabin for the first time, you will notice a small retractable side table under the window. It is the size of a large kitchen chopping board, There you’ll find a colourful ‘Dining Times’ notice already on it.  All your mealtimes will have been predetermined and handwritten onto the flier, presumably by your host or hostess. 

All Gold Twin cabins have their own ensuite bathroom, which look fairly industrial and medicinal. Like in a hospital ward. Lots of chrome fixtures and white porcelain. A sterile, multifunctional room what won’t be on the front cover of Better Homes & Gardens!

At first, I kind of balked at the set up. The unappealing and frigid vibe. The thought of wrapping a shower curtain around myself and drenching the entire floor. I even debated not showering until I reached Sydney! But I will tell you this, I relented and took the plunge. My first shower was amazing. Warm and envigourating.

I ate my humble apple pie and my words!  

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time to leave

As the carriage doors finally closed, I felt an unnerving sense of relief and trepidation, all at the same time. Through the slatted blinds, I could see my 6-year-old son looking back at me from the platform. A tinge of sadness, in his token smile. It was like watching an old silent movie. No noise. Just visuals. Slightly tearful. For both of us. We were going to miss each other.

All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I saw an elderly staff member walk up to my son and give him a fluffy, blue and brown eagle toy. The symbol and insignia of the Indian Pacific train.

“Wow!” I thought to myself. What a nice, spontaneous gesture.

All of a sudden, my son’s miniscule sadness turned to, “See you later Daddy!”

And thus, the train pulled out of Perth and snuck off without so much as a clunk or squeal. I knew that both of us were over the homesick phase and miss-you-love-you-goodbye part. He had his cuddly toy. And I had four beautitul days of adventure ahead of me!

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what to do

If you’ve never travelled on the Indian Pacific, the Ghan or the Overland, then you are basically a train virgin, never quite sure what to do or when. 

Sometimes I wish travel operators would give their clients a fun little ‘Bon Voyage’ list of how to get the most out of your journey. You’d think, in this day and age of social media and travel influencers, that this would be "a given". Like a rite of passage (excuse the pun).

From the very moment I first stepped onto the Indian Pacific and wheeled towards my cabin, I realised that I hadn’t got a clue what to do next. I had two hours to kill before lunch, seven and a half hours before dinner and a late stop at the mine site. But what was I supposed to do next? Sit in my cabin and watch the world go by? Or venture off to find the bar?

Like any upstanding man, I chose the latter: the bar!

Walking “upstream” from carriage E, I weaved my way down the thin corridors, until I arrived at the Outback Explorer Lounge. I was armed with my iPad and a notepad, the usual tools of my trade.

Without question this was the place to be, the life and soul of the train. Couches and tables. Bright lights. A buzz of people and laughter. An endless supply of coffee, wine. beer. And yes…even champagne.

For me, this was the best place to watch the world go by, an endless roll of flicking landscapes.

As a voyeur on another voyage (I love that expression), I relished the glimpse of familiar places. The historical town of Guildford, one of the earliest settlements of the Swan River Colony, before Perth became its principal foothold in the west.  Or the ancient town of Toodjay, its roof tops peaking above some grassy banks, the only giveaway to its existence, as we slid past. Such stealth befitting of its most famous resident, the infamous bushranger and highway man, Moondyne Joe. Even the Swan River was in full spate, after torrential rainstorms bludgeoned the region. Its gushing waters, a convolution of murky, dark brown umber, offset by striking green hills and climbing valley walls.

With our rail journey beckoning us towards the Avon Yard and the town of Northam, I couldn’t help but remind myself, “This is what rail travel is all about.” Adventure. Exploration. Change. I yearned for the 1920s. A golden age of rail travel when “this was the way” to cross the continent in style. Music. Distraction. Bar rooms and bygone years, not bayonets on the Western Front.

Soon, the cumbersome dual gauge rail track would change to a smoother standard gauge. We’d quicken our pace, plane sailing our way through the evening and into the pitch darkness of sleeping Kalgoorlie. The first stop on our epic Indian Pacific rail journey. 

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kalgoorlie

The down side to being an early bird (that catches the worm) is that you also need to come home to roost before dusk. I won’t bore you with Circadian rhythms, but suffice it to say, I live my life like most animals, plants and microorganisms do. I am tuned into the daily cycle of night and day, not pit stops at gold mines at 10.30pm!

I deeply remember having dinner at 5.30pm and then meandering back to my cabin, all glowing and happy, wondering how the heck I would handle an excursion, at way-past-my-bedtime time. Worse than this, at 59 years of age, I was one of the youngest passengers on the train. And I was the party pooper going to bed early!  

I don’t want to understate this. I really did struggle with a ‘should I or shouldn’t I do the tour’ moment. I was pained by the need for shut eye and yet harrowed by the fear of missing out. I had three hours to self-debate this whole conundrum, from the confines of my very cosy and dark cabin.

And the gold mine won!

Could you imagine the disrespect, if I’d stayed in bed? Afterall, I had only taken a day to reach the inner sanctum of Kalgoorlie in luxury and style. The least I could do was learn how the prospectors took weeks and months to get there, on foot and horse. My discomfort could barely compare to what they went through.

And so it was that I sleep-walked off the train and into a lovely heated coach awaiting our group.

I’d heard a lot about Kalgoorlie, before this journey, but let me tell you this: at 11pm…the town is asleep...like I wanted to be!

It’s not like a John Wayne movie set of swinging saloon doors and slinging guns. And it ain’t no Midwest pioneering outpost, of gold diggers and murderers. It is actually more like a suburban town that has grown up, cleaned up and pretty much left its rebellious past behind.

The streets are noticeably wide. Quiet. It felt like our coach had a VIP pass to go where it wanted. Like on a Disney set.

Yet no one was there!

Brushing through the centre of town, our bus deviated away from buildings and started to climb a parallel hill, eventually breaching a wire security fence. Here it pushed further, snaking up a gravelled road, rising and climbing until presto, we suddenly pulled up into a parking lot, with a random bus shelter. This is not only the highest point in Kalgoorlie. It is the The Super Pit Lookout.

Starring into the bowels of an open, working pit is extraordinary. The immensity of the destruction. The enormity of machinery. The insatiable appetite for gold. A dig that stretches 3.6 kilometres long, 1.6 kilometres wide and 512 metres deep.

This was an Instagram moment not to be missed. An effortless quest to capture that one “wow” shot. To prove that you made it!

With a click of a button, it was all over in seconds. And like lemmings, we retreated back to the coach. Snug and warm.

It was not a momentous occasion. But it was a digestive thought.

How the heck did this mine go from one nugget, to one of the biggest open strip mines in the world? From panning for gold, to producing over 66 million ounces or $142 trillion in US Dollars.

If only the early pioneers knew.

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mullinagar & machinery

I must have got my second wind. Our next stop was the Eastern Goldfields town of Mullingar, 10 kilometres north of Kalgoorlie. There, at Hannan’s North Tourist Mine, we made our second stop to ogle and clamber over giant dump trucks and rubber tyres, that would seemingly dwarf any human being.

A local theatre company called Stage Left put on a short play detailing the tales of the Golden Mile and the thriving days of gold glory. One tends to forget how incredibly harsh the life of a prospector was. Venturing off into the unknown, where in all likelihood, the odds were stacked against them. Forget finding gold. How about food and water?

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day two: dawn in rawlinna

“There’s no peace for the wicked,” I muttered to myself, as I stirred to watch a dawn glow, rising and breaking the horizon. Filling my cabin with a soothing, morning warmth. It was about 5.57am. Barely a cloud in the red and rosy sky. That augured well for all of us weary passengers.

Having powered through the Kalgoorlie night shift, I was somewhat immune to tiredness. May be it was the adrenaline kicking back in. My internal clock had undoubtedly been shaken and kicked around a bit. Nothing that a good cup of coffee could not fix. 

I made a beeline for the Outback Explorer Lounge, just as we rolled into the desolate town of Rawlinna, grateful that I had beaten the throng to the coffee line. Most of my fellow travellers had yet to stir, thus allowing me to order my first cappuccino with ease.

By 6.26am, I was stepping down the metal steps, onto the beige and dusty sands. It was only then, that it dawned on me, we were finally on the Nullabor Plain, 900 kilometres east of Perth.

Rawlinna was umbilically tied to the Trans-Australian Railway, which was inaugurated in 1917. In its early days, connecting freight between two oceans, steam locomotives powered everything. Yet the poor water quality was a major issue. Engines required constant servicing and Rawlinna became one of the four major stations to fulfill that need. The offshoot was the creation of workshops, living accommodation, food stores and yes, even a bakery and schools. But change was in the offing, with the introduction of diesel engines.

In 1951, the deed was done and the demise of Rawlinna was all but scripted and sealed. Today’s Indian Pacific passengers see a mere wisp of what was there before. Most Commonwealth Railways buildings have long since been demolished, except for a paltry dozen or so remaining structures.

Stepping off the train was spiritually energising for me. To see and experience a vestige of the past. Yet it was times like this, when I wished I was a better photographer. To capture the desert fog lifting its shroud, as the morning’s warmth kicked in. The old and rusting livestock cars. The rows of wooden picnic tables and benches.

Logs were burning in scattered fire pits, made from half-cut oil drums. Their smoky blue trails pointing upwards from the makeshift camp fires. 

A solitary musician strummed on his acoustic guitar and sang. A wooden butler’s tray lay on a trestle table, stuffed with egg and bacon buns and pastry scrolls. Orange juice, tea and coffee was all cranked out in china cups and glasses.

It was a well-managed and much-loved event, hosted on the rail sidings of Rawlinna by the hard-working Journey Beyond team. Mind you, if you stood back and looked at the crowd of passengers, you wouldn’t think so. They all had that “night after” shell-shocked look. Silent and hunched over. Rugged up.

I’ve been there many times before, where too much fun and sleep deprivation, become an evil cocktail. But I also know somethings else, that words cannot convey. Silent smiles never leave you. As with me. I was having a ball. I just didn’t need to show it.

By 8.30am we had reboarded the Indian Pacific and were settled down to a more formal breakfast feast of you guessed it, more eggs and bacon. Washed down with coffee.

For the next seven hours, we would eat and drink, and watch our way to another dusty outpost, on the Nullabor Plain, the hidden ghost town of Cook.

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day two: onward to cook

The South Australian town of Cook was created for the Trans-Australian Railway on the Nullabor Plain in 1917. It was purpose-built, as a railway station and crossing loop, which, for any amateur train spotter, is important. Trains that approach each other from different directions, on a single gauge of rail track, need a place to overtake. Without a mini passing loop or passing siding they, they would simply do one thing: crash into each other!

And Cook was designed, as one of those vital transition points.

Named after the sixth Prime Minister of Australia, Joseph Cook, this town played a significant role in track maintenance, during the steam engine era. This was a micro-hub of locomotive and rolling stock repairs. But it was still “in the middle of nowhere”.  Water was originally pumped from an underground artesian aquifer. Food and resupply provisions only came bi-weekly. It even had a school and hospital.

If you were in the travel industry, promoting Cook, you’d probably call it isolated!

With the advent of the much more efficient diesel engines, Cook lost its usefulness and slowly slid into decline. The wooden sleepers were replaced by more durable concrete equivalents. Rail welders had little to repair. The desert began to lose its gloss and utility. Besides, when the ownership was transferred to the National Rail Corporation, they had another pet project, that was of equal prominence. In the Red Centre of Alice Springs, they needed skilled folk, for what would soon become a Northern rail corridor to Darwin. And this little baby, would eventually be called the Ghan.

Today Cook is a ghost town, denied of its once prominent importance. Yet in its void come Indian Pacific passengers, like me, many of whom have never cut through the middle of the country or had any connection to the Industrial Revolution or the early 1920s.

In its heyday, rail was way cheaper and much more efficient than any other source of energy. And today, there I am, a simple voyeur placing my lips against a small window pane of the past, seeing exactly how my forbears viewed things. A new and contrasting horizon of hope and the often forgotten, survival. Of invention, expansion, necessity and production.

There's an unnerving sense of "belonging", when you see and step upon the same gravel and white sand. Only today, the footprints have been blown away.

Some say Cook is eerie. But for me, it’s not old enough to be scary. Yet in a somewhat “Bermuda Triangle” type of way, the structures still permeate the town. Only the people are missing.

I kind of expected to hear a kettle whistling on someone’s kitchen stove. Or the haughty banter of townsfolk at the Post Office.

But no. There was nothing.

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adelaide bound

An Indian Pacific rail journey is not all about the vehicle. The train. Or the off-train excursions. It’s about the people you meet. The setting. The staff, the food, the entertainment. The train's cogs and wheels just frame the whole picture. The ingredients that come together to make the whole rail journey perform faultlessly and on queue.

When I was a freelance writer for the Washington Times newspaper, I learnt not to chase moonbeams. I learnt to look, listen and above or else, laugh…even at myself. And this leg from Cook to Adelaide was no exception. There was so much camaraderie and unity, no matter what the vintage held.  And on that note, at the ripe young age of 59, I was one of the youngest people on the train. The irony was that I was one of the first to surrender and sneak off. I was the party pooper, that slipped away and off to bed, without so much as an adieu!

I was the one that weaved my way down the corridor alone, smiling as I richocheted off windows and walls. Why? Because I knew the rhythm and clacking of any train is a wonderful metronome, that would rock me to sleep in a few mintues. 

And as expected, prostrate on my long thin "bed", I slept like a baby.

 

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day 3: arrival into adelaide parklands terminal

I was getting used to the downward temperature, since first leaving the Nullarbor Plain and sneaking into Adelaide. The train windows were somewhat of an optical illusion. Barren desert-like nothingness, unfolding into a tiny bit of greenery. As we dropped down, on the Eastern side of the Great Australian Bight, you could sense, and feel, the magnitude of vineyards and history.

And then, in the blip of an eye, we ricocheted north again, like a climbing firework, before breaking trajectory and heading off east. Like a chameleon, the landscape reverted back again to salt bush and sandy scrub. Even the rail tracks became noticeably less smooth and noisy. More clickety-clack and sonic chatter, than acapella.

From the Princess Lounge, people were too absorbed to notice the change in tempo. And even if they had noticed the shift in rhythmic cadence, they would have laughed it off, because quite simply, they did not care. The music was playing, the bar flowing. All unto themselves, everyone had a reason to blank the world, dance or sing a little.

I laughed to myself. The rock and roll of the carriages would have to wait, until everyone was in their berth, trying to sleep!

I stared into my red wine and smiled.

” We’re nearly home buddy! Just you and me!”

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day 4 - the last leg - Sydney

The vivid dawn colours rising above my feet through the uncovered window was fantastic. I had purposely left my blinds open to see the awakening day, from my snug berth, which was truly mesmerising, even at 5 o’clock in the morning. It was like looking into an oven window, watching the orange glow, as it filled the cabin All of a sudden, the landscape took form and shape fron out of the dissipating blackness.

By 7.30am the Indian Pacific had slowed to a halt. The skies were greyer and the air much colder. I was rugged up with a thick coat and ready to join the waiting bus for my early visit to the Adelaide Central Markets.

I had never really appreciated just how amazing the Adelaide indoor markets were, until this visit. With 70 stalls, it is a warren of traders hawking fresh food and artisan wares, the likes of which I had not seen anywhere in Australia. I equally had no idea that this is South Australia’s most visited tourist attraction too. That fact really gobsmacked me!

 

Since its founding in 1869, this market has been a draw card for locals and travellers alike. I was lucky enough to have a guide escort our small group through the alleyways. We sampled coffee and freshly-made breakfast rolls. We even dug into a brand new wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, as it was cracked in half before us. The Turkish Delight stall was a huge hit (with the ladies!) and as for me, why not, I sampled some Kangaroo Island gin…at 8.00am…in the morning!

Sadly, the train waits for no one. It operates on a really tight schedule. By 10.00am we were back at the station and saddled up for our next run towards Sydney. Owing to floods around Broken Hill, we could not stop. It was going to a straight run to the Blue Mountains.

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Broken Hill - New South Wales

Broken Hill is usually the 5th stop on the Indian Pacific itinerary. Sadly, on my journey, we had to give it a miss, due to previous flooding issues affecting the area. We had no option but to keep on trundling on towards the Blue Mountains.

Broken Hill, located in the far west of New South Wales, Australia, is a city with a rich mining history and cultural significance. Established in the late 19th century, it began as a mining settlement when silver, lead, and zinc were discovered in 1883. This discovery led to a mining boom, transforming Broken Hill into a thriving industrial hub, often referred to as the "Silver City."

The mining industry played a pivotal role in shaping the city’s economy and population. By the early 1900s, Broken Hill had become a major center for mining operations, attracting workers and their families from various regions. The city was home to several significant mining companies, including the Broken Hill Proprietary Company Limited (BHP), which would later become one of the world's largest mining firms. This prosperity led to the development of infrastructure, schools, and cultural institutions, establishing Broken Hill as a vital community.

Broken Hill's significance extends beyond its economic contributions. It has a rich cultural heritage, with influences from Aboriginal communities, early European settlers, and diverse immigrant populations. The city is also notable for its unique art scene, featuring iconic artists like Pro Hart and the renowned Broken Hill Regional Art Gallery, which showcases local and national works.

In addition, Broken Hill has played a crucial role in the labour movement, being a centre for trade unionism and social activism. The city’s history reflects broader Australian narratives, including issues of workers' rights and social justice. A key landmark is the Miners Memorial, which commemorates the lives of some 800 miners who lost their lives in the mines. This striking memorial, featuring a large sculpture of a miner, stands as a poignant reminder of the risks faced by the workforce and the resilience of the community. It encapsulates Broken Hill's dual legacy of industrial achievement and human sacrifice, making it a significant part of the city’s identity.

Today, Broken Hill is recognized for its historical importance and stunning landscapes, drawing tourists to explore its mining heritage, the surrounding Outback, and the nearby Mutawintji National Park. The city stands as a testament to resilience and community spirit, making it a significant chapter in Australia’s history.

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day 4 - the last leg - Broken Hill & Sydney

If there is any part of the Indian Pacific rail journey that is not to be missed, it is The Blue Mountains excursion. I had no idea how beautiful and significant this part of the country was, to the history and development of Australia, as well as its expansion out west and prosperity.

On 14 July, 1814, an extraordinary engineer called William Cox, led a team of 30 convicts and 8 guards to build the first road over the Blue Mountains. In a feat of extraordinary grit, his team took four months to cut a track, 47 miles long, from the Emu Plains to Mount York. In just six months, Cox had crossed the Blue Mountains and made his way to Bathurst, leaving in his wake a new road that stretched 101 miles long. Two years, later the first building was erected in the Blue Mountains. Military outposts quickly followed, to protect travellers from aboriginal attacks. However, things were soon to change enormously.

In the 1850s, gold was discovered in the Bathurst District.

The Blue Mountains boomed as people and merchandise poured in to support the mining rush.

Prior to joining the Indian Pacific, I was completely ignorant of almost all stops on the itinerary, particularly the Blue Mountains. When we pulled into the station of Katoomba and off-loaded into waiting double-decker buses, I was blissfully unaware of where we would be going. Yet being from London, I knew darn well that you needed to be on the upper deck, at the front of the bus, to get the best views.

From my high perch and big windows, I watched as we climbed up towards Katoomba Falls, wiggling through narrow streets, lined with big green ferns and wooden telegraph poles. 15 minutes later, we pulled into the Scenic World parking lot, for our first of four outstanding excursions.

Scenic World is like many tourist attractions around Australia. It has a massive parking lot capable of hosting hundreds of cars and buses. There is the obligatory gated building, through which you would funnel the masses of ticket paying tourists. Once inside, you were tantalised by rows and shelves of gifts and gadgets, hats and T-shirts.

The fun part for me, was that no one else was there…for now…except our group. The joys of arriving off the train early and visiting out of season.

Our group of train-going tourists was carved up into three smaller subsets. I was ushered into the pack that would take the Scenic Railway first.

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scenic railway - down

The Scenic Railway is a thrill in its own right, a 52° (128%) incline, deemed to be the steepest passenger railway in the world. The original railway was built in the late 19th century, to serve the coal mine at the foot of the escarpment. It was bought in 1945 by the Hammon family and operated for 70 years, thrilling 25 million passengers.

Adding my ride to this impressive statistic was fun. The entirety of the 310m “drop” is over quickly, as you descend through a cliff tunnel, and exit the chasm walls. Moments later, you are on the Jamieson Valley floor stepping safely onto the wooden planks of the Scenic Walkway.

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scenic walkway - forest floor

If you love gardens and landscape, then this gentle Scenic Walkway is for you. It’s like an outtake of the movie Jurassic Park, where giant ferns are shrouded in semi darkness by the rainforest canopy above. You amble through an ecological wonder, a cool microclimate that is downright prehistoric and totally distinct from the weather above. Every once in a while, you encounter reminders of the coal mining past. A scaled bronze statue or a miner and his pit pony and an original shaft entrance.

You are left musing over the past. The incalculable harshness of life. A battle to survive.

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scenic cableway - up

In humble recognition of Isaac Newton’s phase, “What goes up, must come down,” I knew my return would be equally thrilling. Having descended by rail, I would ascend in comfort by the Scenic Cableway.

The Scenic Cableway is another short-lived, but unforgettable experience that is the steepest in the Southern Hemisphere. It spans 545 meters, providing breathtaking views of the lush rainforest and dramatic cliffs of the Blue Mountains. It features a string of spacious, cable-car cabins that can accommodate up to 84 people, with large windows. Naturally you have unobstructed views of the surrounding landscape including the iconic Three Sisters rock and the surrounding rugged wilderness.

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scenic skyway

The Scenic Skyway is the final “wow” experience at Scenic World, a slow-moving cableway that traverses the Jamieson Valley and spans 720 metres.

This is the piece de resistance of stunning landscapes. Like all its other rail and cable counterparts, it provides captivating views of the Three Sisters. Unsurprisingly, it has become a must-visit attraction for tourists and locals alike. However, getting the most out of your experience is a different matter. With other tourists filling the SkyWay at the same time, space if a premium. You need to stake your territory and hold it.

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echopoint lookout

Echo Point is the renowned lookout providing breathtaking views of the towering sandstone peaks called the Three Sisters. It is steeped in Aboriginal legend and cultural significance.

Echo Point is easily accessible and serves as a starting point for various walking trails, including the path that leads down to the base of the Three Sisters. Visitors can enjoy informative signage about the geological and cultural history of the area, making it an educational stop as well.

The area is particularly popular at sunrise and sunset, when the changing light creates spectacular colours across the landscape. It’s not uncommon to see photographers capturing the beauty of this stunning natural setting. Additionally, the lookout is surrounded by visitor facilities, including cafes and shops, making it a convenient spot for relaxation and exploration.

With its combination of stunning views, rich cultural heritage, and accessibility, Echo Point is a must-visit destination for anyone exploring the Blue Mountains.

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discovery trail

As you walk along the Discovery Trail, you'll encounter informative signage that highlights the area's unique flora, fauna, and geological features. The trail is also steeped in Aboriginal heritage, offering insights into the cultural significance of the landscape to the local Indigenous peoples.

The path is well-maintained and suitable for walkers of all ages and abilities, making it a popular choice for families and nature enthusiasts. Along the way, you can enjoy the serene sounds of the forest and the vibrant colors of wildflowers, especially in spring.

The Discovery Trail provides a wonderful opportunity to connect with the natural environment, making it an essential part of any visit to the Blue Mountains. Whether you're seeking a leisurely stroll or a chance to learn more about this remarkable region, the trail offers a memorable experience.

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the lookout at echo point

With well-rehearsed precision, we were all urged towards the exit and ushered out of Scenic World, passing shelves of things we did not need or want, but invariably bought. My impulse buy was a handful of postcards. Yes, I do still write and send them. In this day of electronic mail, I find nothing compares to a hand-written card, to let someone else know, that you were thinking of them. A personal thought. Something physical to hold and cherish.

And then like lambs to the slaughter, we hopped back onto our cozy double-deck buses, and headed to the The Lookout Echo Point for an early lunch. Thankfully, the journey only took 8-minutes, as I was feeling a bit peckish.

Once there, you quickly realise the magnitude of the location and its name. For The Lookout Echo Point is perched on the edge of the Blue Mountains escarpment, with unrivalled and sweeping views of the valley. The whole building is peppered with floor to ceiling glass, in the middle of which a high, circular atrium, dispels light like a giant garden conservatory would. Terraces and patios reach out from different angles, providing a never-ending of Instagram moments and not just of the Three Sisters to the left.

Our meal was a light affair, a snack board of cold quiche and pork pie, humous, crisp bread and smoked salmon among other treats and dessert. It plugged the hole in my appetite, but not the hunger.

I had ample time to walk about the property afterwards, to soak up the Lookout from many other vantage points and levels. I had fleeting moments of déjà vu, like being atop the Grand Canyon in the USA. Even the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia or Table Mountain in Cape Town. And yes, even Dunkeld in Scotland. They all had these vistas of untamed rock and forest.

Alas, my epic rail journey was soon to end, with a private charter train ride from Katoomba to Sydney Central Station. It was sad. A moment of reflection. Even the final bus ride through the streets of Katoomba triggered flash backs of so many other Australian towns. I could almost sense the voices, the holidaying crowds that once flocked to this remote place for health and healing. The jostling folk at Medlow Bath, the banter of miners, and the swarms of Chinese migrants that flocked to the Blue Mountain, not so much to find riches from gold, but hawking wares. Until the coal seams ran dry.

Since the mining boom, Katoomba has tapped into a new vein or riches, drawn from the world of art, music, literature and of course travel. My train ride and postcard purchases, were clearly a major boon to the local economy!

There is really too much of my ignorance to stuff into this one post, but suffice it to say, you can click here now and delve deeper into Katoomba’s eclectic past, a once thriving mining town.

I love trivial and unimportant facts, but if you happen to be following my tracks (excuse the pun) on the Indian Pacific, in the Queens Lounge, drink in hand…on your final leg to the Blue Mountains…then read this wonderfully unimportant data:

At the 2021 census, the suburb of Katoomba recorded a population of 8,268. Of these:[1]

  • Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people made up 3.3% of the population.
  • The most common ancestries were English 42%, Australian 31.1%, Irish 17.6%, Scottish 13.9% and German 6%.
  • 73.3% of people were born in Australia. The next most common countries of birth was England 5.6% and New Zealand 2.0%.
  • 86% of people spoke only English at home.
  • The most common responses for religion were No Religion 55.4%, Catholic 12.4% and Anglican 9.5%.
  • The median age was 48 years, compared to the national median of 38 years. Children aged under 15 years made up 13.8% of the population (national average is 18.2%) and people aged 65 years and over made up 23.6% of the population (national average is 17.2%).
  • The median household weekly income was $1,171, compared to the national median of $1,746.
  • 55.4% of households were family households, 39.5% were single-person households and 5.1% were group households. The average household size was 2.1 people.
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the final ride

With much inner sadness, the waiting charter train was as expected: impersonal. How could it possibly rival 4 days and 3 nights of transcontinental travel.

I had journeyed by rail solo, from west to east, with total strangers, 4,352 kilometers (or 2,704 miles). Some in Platinum Class, and others, like me, in Gold Class. Yet all of us shared one common denominator: adventure.

My sister later joked, “You never sleep well on a train. It’s everything else that matters.”

She was right. I had laughed all the way from Perth to Sydney, making new acquaintances over barren lands, dead towns and mining scars. In so doing, I had done what few had ever done.

I had bridged the gap between two coasts and mastered the Indian Pacific divide.

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