Tuesday 12 April 2011

A Country Line

Last week I had to go to the Goldfields and decided to take a more historically-appropriate means of transport than usual.  No, I didn't walk (I think I've done enough walking in Australia to last me for a while), nor did I take a stage coach (the horses are so hard to find, these days).  Instead, I took a train.  

Arriving at Southern Cross Station, I found the tracks divided between city lines and country lines.  And at 8 in the morning you could spot the difference: the city line platforms were full of commuters in sharp suits and Melbourne black; the country line platforms were chockful of old ladies with big shopping bags, bogans and men with hats.  

There's a funny kind of tussle between the suburbs and the countryside, giving rise to this kind of scene - an Orthodox church surrounded by scrubland.

There were lots of little country stations that all looked the same.

And then, suddenly, there were no houses, just wide open space.

Oh, and this place, where old farm machinery goes to die. 

On the way back, I noticed the long, straight roads ...

... light shining on the creeks,

and sunshine in Sunshine.

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