Friday 15 March 2013

Into the Outback


My goodness me.  I have been racking up the kilometres of late (good) but not blogging (bad).   Also my camera is not working, which may be pique as a result of the 800 photos I took on my trip to the Northern Territory.  However, there will be many posts to come about my adventures, starting now.

When last I posted I was waiting to board the Ghan - the train that travels from Adelaide at the bottom of Australia (in the handily named state of South Australia), over 3000km to Darwin (at the 'Top End' of the Northern Territory - those Australians don't seem to have much imagination for names.)  I was booked to go from Adelaide to Alice Springs and really, if you want a sense of just how vast Australia is, the train is far and away the best way to travel.

I had booked myself on a recliner chair (cheapest option) for reasons of pure economy.  The Ghan isn't cheap and I didn't feel like paying upwards of $1000 for a cabin.  The chairs are fine, but I warn any would-be train travellers that the 'Red' class accommodation on the train is fairly basic.


My sense is that the operators are trying to rebrand the train more as a luxury travel option so most of the train was given over to the 'Gold' and 'Platinum' coaches.  That all said, my seat was comfortable, and the views spectacular.  The only down side was the food available, which was pretty grim: sausage rolls in plastic and packets of cornflakes.  BIG HINT: bring a picnic!  Still, the retro green interior of the cafe appealed to me.


For $10 extra chair-travellers (as opposed to those booked into cabins) could sit in the observation lounge, which I did and where I spent most of the journey, surrounded by friendly Danes.  They adopted me as their own and we discussed Borgen and The Killing, and specifically whether Sarah Lund-style jumpers might be required for cold Outback nights.

So, you leave the Pennsylvania Station ‘bout a quarter to four, read a magazine and then you’re in Baltimore you leave Adelaide at lunchtime and at first the train passes through fairly typical industrial areas.

After an hour or so (at a top speed of ~60kmph this is not a fast way to travel), industrial suburbs give way to farmland.

This was the moment when the train (781m long) went around a bend and from my vantage point towards the back I could see the whole thing:


After nearly four hours we reached Port Augusta, where the Outback meets the sea and where the train stopped for a little while.  Port Augusta was once the terminus for the North/South transcontinental railway and an important hub for anyone heading into the Territory.


It's still a hub for freight:



After Port Augusta, the earth started to get noticeably redder, though still not as intense a hue as I was expecting from the Red Centre.


As the shadows grew longer, I amused myself by taking photos of the train's reflection.


The Stuart Highway (main North/South road) runs alongside the railway for much of the journey and occasionally we would see road trains (ie lorries pulling two or three tankers/trailers).


Sunset was around 8pm - and I went to bed not long after, tired from my early start - plus once it's dark in the Outback, it's really dark.


I slept on and off, waking up occasionally when the train stopped (cows on the line?  break for the driver?  not really sure.)  I woke up fully around 5 (or, 5 in the Northern Territory, 5.30 in South Australia and 6.30 in Melbourne.  Complicated time zones.)  Just in time to catch the dawn.


And once it was light enough to see the ground, it was clear that it was, yes, truly and unmistakably red.  Not just that, but we were in full-on desert: no people, no buildings, no roads, just scrubby trees and red sand.


Oh, and occasional cows.


As the morning progressed, we started to see a few more signs of what you could loosely call civilisation: this road, for example - which is shown on the maps as a reasonably major byway ...


We also passed a few rivers - yep, rivers.



I learnt that in this part of the world, rivers flow inland, not out to the ocean.  During the 'big wet' (i.e. the wet monsoon season) rainfall collects and flows inland to fill the dry creek beds.  But obviously nothing was flowing when we passed.

I also noticed that the colours weren't as monochromatic as I expected.  For all that it's desert country, it's semi-arid desert and there's a surprising range of greenery.



Eventually, 26 hours after setting off, we arrived into Alice Springs.  But that's a story for next week.


The Ghan is not the most comfortable way to travel across Australia (at least not if you're travelling economy class) and it's not the fastest way to travel across Australia (flying, even driving, much quicker) and if you get bored easily it might not be for you (no in-flight entertainment and the recliner-seat carriage doesn't have power points).  To put it in perspective, the 26 hours the train takes (and that's only half the journey - Darwin is another  day and a half beyond that) is longer than the time it takes to fly from Australia to Ireland.

But if, like me, you love the idea of experiencing Australia's hugeness and understanding how it changes between the coastal cities and the vast interior ... if you want to fall asleep in one landscape and wake up in another ... if you are enchanted at the idea of arriving at one of the remotest cities on the planet by train ... if you can gaze for hours at the subtle shifts in the colour of the ground outside your window ... then the Ghan is most certainly for you.  

Sunday 3 March 2013

The Ghan

Sitting at Adelaide Parklands Terminal, waiting to board the Ghan. This is something I've wanted to do for years so please imagine me bouncing up and down with excitement. The 24 hour, c. 1500km trip to Alice Springs will take me the length of South Australia and into the Northern Territory.

I'm looking forward to red earth, brown rock, wide open spaces, camels ... And who knows what other adventures.

And at the end - not a town like Alice, but the veritable Alice herself.

Thursday 21 February 2013

Overseen: Photogenic Cows

Overseen on the Daylesford-Ballarat Road, Victoria, Australia; February 2013.


I found these cows to be extremely obliging.  Look how willingly they posed beside one of my favourite subjects - the iconic Australian windpump.

Oh, happy photogenic cows: may you be the kind they keep for milk and not for beef.

Monday 18 February 2013

Right Turn From Left Only

On Sunday, I passed a particular rite of passage when I negotiated a Melbourne phenomenon: right turn from left only - aka the hook turn.

Photo taken through the windscreen, just before turning -
which is why it's not very good.
This instruction to drivers in Melbourne's CBD is bewildering to outsiders and seemingly quite confusing for locals too.  Its purpose is to prevent right-turning cars from blocking tramlines (which run along the centre of the bigger streets in the city).

So here's what you do.

1. Think ahead, because you'll need to be in the far-left lane if you want to turn right (counter-intuitive, I know).
2. If the lights are green as you approach the intersection, proceed into the little box conveniently marked on the road in the centre of the intersection.
3. If there's already a car/cars in the little box, you have to wait for the next cycle of lights.
4. Once in the box, stay there until the flashing 'wait' on hook turn signal (yes, special signal) disappears (or wait until there's a green light for the traffic on the street you want to enter).
5. Ignore all the drivers honking at you.
6. With turn successfully negotiated, breath a deep sigh of relief.

Melburnians are strangely proud of the hook turn, and the sign adorns posters, tea towels, cushions, t-shirts.  But then I've noticed, more widely, that Australians are oddly proud of the many native features that can kill you in an instant (the Box Jellyfish, Redback Spider, Fierce Snake, to name but three) - perhaps there's a correlation?

Friday 15 February 2013

Making Lemonade

It's Friday, the sun's shining, the fire's out (thanks to a thunder and lightning storm yesterday afternoon there was a small grass fire near us; no danger but everything stank of smoke) and, remarkably, I find myself with a clear head and an urge to post.

Except - the only photos I've taken in the past week are of museum showcases in various states of readiness.  Digging through all of the photos on my phone, the only thing I could find that was remotely appealing as blog fodder, was this:


So I decided to turn it into a hint.  When life places lemons (in the form of a lemon tree in the garden of the cottage where you're staying while installing a museum), then of course you should make lemonade.

Lady Traveller Lemonade
Cup of sugar
4-5 lemons
Water

Put the sugar in a saucepan with a cup of water (approximately 250ml) and bring to a gentle boil, then simmer on a low heat until the sugar has completely dissolved.  Add another cup of water and leave the mixture to cool.
Squeeze the lemons (should yield about 500ml juice) and when the sugar syrup is cool, combine the lemon juice with it.  I like to throw in some lemon wedges as well.

Wednesday 13 February 2013

Overseen: Black Swan Event

Overseen Victoria, Australia, February 2013


Q. Lady Traveller, where have you been?  Why no posts?
A. 1. Helping to install a new museum.  2. Sleeping.  3. See #1

Q. What is a Black Swan Event?
A. Something that comes as a surprise (that may even have been postulated to be impossible) but, once observed, makes sense in hindsight.  For example, for centuries Europeans believed that it was impossible that a black swan could exist ... until settlers came across the birds in Australia.

Tuesday 5 February 2013

French Weekend

Why, yes, I am in Australia and will shortly commence posting about my adventures here, but in the meantime here's something I wrote but neglected to post last week (I was overcome by packing).  It's about France and what it has in common with my current surroundings are the blue skies.  I know, it's sickening.

***

I frequently praise my sister and brother-in-law for having had the excellent taste and foresight to move to the South of France.  The perfect pick-me-up after Christmas was a weekend in the Provencal sunshine.  Stepping out of Nice airport, putting on my sunglasses (which hadn't been worn for months), the sight of the palm trees just lifted my heart:


We drove inland, George obligingly explain quantum mechanics to me on the way (I have an enquiring mind) and reached chez eux just as after dark.  As the small boys ran around reclaiming their stuff and their papa turned on the heating, Ro and I went to the supermarket where she bought groceries and I amused myself by marking, once again, the delights of the French supermarket experience.  (Nine kinds of chocolate mousse.)

Next morning, bright but cold, we pushed the boys (one in a pram, one on bicycle) into the centre of the village.  I always love seeing the church perched on top of the village.



We bought the papers and a selection of pastries and then sat at the cafe in the village square for our coffees.



Why, yes - that is my sister looking very glamorous and sitting outside, OUTSIDE I say, at the beginning of January.