Words by Dorian Mode Photography Lydia Thorpe
I’m flying from Perth to Sydney, sitting in a metal tube at 30,000 feet. Unlike the Indian Pacific, none of my fellow passengers is up for a chat. There is no smile of recognition. No camaraderie. And if the octogenarian beside me thinks she’s winning this armrest she’s out of her mind.
Day One
We feel a transcontinental frisson at Central Station’s Platform #1. Airports are exciting. Trains stations are not. However, at the long silver caterpillar that is the Indian Pacific, we find smart people in Akubras and RM Williams boots, checking–in passengers before directing us for a swab. Post nose–drilling, we are ferried to canapés at Platform 818: the flanking Mercure Hotel. I never did this while waiting for the 3.10 to Gosford. At Mercure, our on board–off board entertainer, croons, “I’m Leaving on a Long Train…”
Post bubbles, we head to the platform to find our cabin. The Indian Pacific is so long it’s split over two platforms before becoming one train. It has two classes: Gold and Platinum. (i.e Rich and Stinking.) We are in Gold Class, which is the majority on the train (cabins are all twin singles: there is no double–bed unless you’re in Platinum). The passengers are mostly fun retirees, besides one ‘young’ couple (about our age–ish) in box fresh matching Akrubras who, in comparison to the retirees, look like the models in the Indian Pacific’s brochure. As they step aboard, the passenger demographic instantly halves.
Being a train buff, I like the cubbyhouse aesthetic of the cabin. And like ships, I’m fascinated by how they utilise space like a magic trick. We have a tiny closet and ‘wardrobe of bathroom’ which suits our purposes well. Showers are easier than you think and much fun negotiating the motion of the train.
From our cabin, we careen our way to the lounge car: the soul of the train. Here you’ll always find someone up for a chinwag. We order cocktails before wending our way through the pretty Blue Mountains. Sure, you can do this on a suburban train, but not from the cocktail bar with a salt–rimmed Margarita.
While at dinner, the staff magically transform our Gold Class Twin cabin into cosy bunk beds, with posh linen and even a chocolate on our pillow. Light sleepers may struggle with the white noise of the train but I embrace it as part of the exotic experience. In my imagination, I’m in an Agatha Christie novel. Soon we are snatched by sleep.


Day Two
We wake to find the famous mullock heap of Broken Hill towering outside our window. Brekkie is as posh as dinner. During Eggs Benedict our cabin is magically converted back into the day cabin. Timetabling prevents us from viewing the desert sculptures that morning so instead, passengers are coached to the Miners Museum and Miners Memorial. The memorial is a deep and moving experience (pun intended). These miners died horrifically, underscoring why the union has such a powerful presence in town. Driving through the main drag you’ll see giant Khrushchev–era style union slogans painted on the sides of buildings.
When you fly you loathe getting back on a plane. But you look forward to getting back on the train. As we chug out of Broken Hill, we delight in sitting in the lounge and simply watching the stark, arid beauty of the desert scrolling past our window: an endless canvas of red earth, blurred with grey mulga. And we like how small things become big things on trains: the white puff of a feral goat. A mysterious abandoned building. The mad frightened dance of a feral camel (one of the dishes on tonight’s menu). Trivia at 2:30.
For luncheon, (camel – hump steak?) we meet John and Mavis. These spritely retirees are enjoying their 58th year of marriage. As I’m a little deaf I find it hard to hear the softly spoken Mavis over the white noise of the train. So in misguided politeness, I nod and laugh in reply to her muted conversation.
“Why would you laugh when I say my friend has depression?” she snaps.
My wife detonates with laughter. “He’s too embarrassed to say he’s deaf from playing with loud bands.” Mavis laughs.
We all agree we can’t believe all this artistic food is made in a galley kitchen. We all have a grand time and at meal’s end, we all emerge from our booth, swaying like a fish in a current. Psst! I like how no one can tell if you’re drunk on a train. (Mental note: remember when we are at the platform.)
That afternoon the ochre–coloured desert melds into the blond countryside of the Clare Valley. Soon we see the corduroy landscape of South Australia’s famous vineyards: a teaser for our next excursion.
We alight the Indian Pacific to be bussed to Seppeltsfield Estate. The coach driver delivers an excellent narration about the region (My wife and I do love a good narration – only made better if our narrator is in character, dressed in a bonnet). Seppeltsfield must be the Buckingham Palace of wineries, with its stunning biscuit–coloured stone buildings and historic cellars. Soon we are shepherded around shops and artisan workspaces. Dinner that evening is outstanding, with a tasting and curation by the Seppeltsfield chef. We dine with a quartet of lively retired Japanese ladies, all Sydney residents, and all traversing the girth of the continent together. Soon we are all laughing like loons.
As we drowse on the coach back to the train, we trundle over a creek. The driver says, “now that’s the water source for the winery to your right. The creek is known as ‘Jacobs’.”
Suddenly Mavis’ phone springs to life with a ringtone announcing “Favourite Daughter”. The bus boos and chuckles simultaneously. Mavis shrinks.


Fact box #1: 5 Tips for Travelling on the IP
Pack light: large luggage goes into storage and can’t be accessed until the end of the journey, so pack a small suitcase and a warm jacket or light raincoat with whatever you need for a few days.
All–inclusive: means just that – all meals, drinks, snacks and a selection of Apelles toiletries (one of my wife’s favourites) in your room are included, as well as your Off Train Experiences.
Wildlife spotting: if you’re keen to see a kangaroo, the best way to spot them is to gaze out of the windows at around dusk, when they go out for a late afternoon to graze. Either that or eat them. They are on the menu – and delicious!
Sun–up, sun–down: Nullarbor sunrises and sunsets are unforgettable. It’s worth getting up early one morning and snagging a window seat for the end of the day.
Flex: With the unpredictability of Covid, they do offer a Flexi Pass. It’s an approximately a 10% increase from the everyday fare and provides complete flexibility including fully refundable until departure.
Day Three
Post brekkie we traverse the Nullarbor – the longest stretch of straight track in the world. The Indian Pacific shapes your view of your country forever more. I recall the emptiness of the continent only to look at the map to see we were still on the coast. Soon we arrive at the eerie ghost town of Cook. Here our long train takes a big drink while we stretch our legs. Once a thriving railway town of 200 denizens, with a schoolhouse and hospital (with the slogan If You’re Crook Come to Cook!), it now has a population of just four. We love Cook’s swimming pool of weeds and golf course with its “green fees”. This queer desolate town has a Spaghetti–Western aesthetic. In my imagination a man waits down the end of the dusty street, reaching for a Smith & Western, while I reach for my iPhone. Suddenly, my reverie is punctured by a blitz–style siren calling us to the train – either that or a drone strike is about to befall Cook.
That evening we arrive at Rawlinna Sheep Station to dine beside the train. As stars prick open the desert night sky, we feast on succulent lamb shanks cooked on firepits. The train’s musician croons Sweet Caroline. I ponder the none too Covid friendly lyrics: reaching out, touching me, touching you. Suddenly Mrs Pictures lassoes our Japanese quartet for a boogie. They all laugh at my appalling dancing. (I dance like Teresa May after a hip replacement.)
As firepits flash against the silver of the long train, we dine with the aforementioned ‘catalogue couple’. James is a sociology professor while Alex is completing her PhD. We soon fall into their hilarious orbit. James and Alex are celebrating their 5th wedding anniversary, with each year corresponding with a letter of the alphabet. E is for ‘expedition’. Let’s hope ‘F’ is not for ‘finito’. Turns out not only did James and I go to the same primary and high school (almost the same year), we obtained our PhDs at the same university. As you can imagine, we bond like war veterans.
When we arrive in Perth, we are sad to leave our chums and the train itself, with its good–humoured staff and surprise touches of luxury. But we are staying at the Double Tree By Hilton Perth Waterfront. Not a bad detox. With its sweeping views of the Swan River and rooftop bar, Double Tree Hilton is superlative accommodation in the best part of town. For NSW folk, the Barrack St Precinct will remind ewes of Darling Harbour, only prettier and with no crowds.


Day Four
The Indian Pacific can extend your tour. So we did (see fact box). In 1696, Dutch captain Willem de Vlamingh named Rottenest Island (“Rats’ Nest Island”) after the quokkas, which he mistook for giant rats. He described the island as “a paradise on earth”. I agree. I’ve never been to Rottnest but I know I’m on one of the world’s great ferry rides – only augmented by the erudite narration of the history of the Swan River by our guide, Malcolm. But imagine our delight to find our hilarious holiday pals on the ferry, James and Alex.
We have complimentary bike hire with our ferry ticket but I’m with Mark Twain who said, “when I feel like exercise, I lie down until the feeling passes over me.” So on terra firma, we swap our bikes for James and Alex’s bus tour of the island. As we watch our young, lithe couple cycle away like extras in a toothpaste commercial, we are delighted to find the scholarly Malcolm (from the ferry) as our narrator on the bus. On the tour, we learn so much about the island while stopping at various points of interest. Soon we meet the island’s famous denizens. Ever since Hugh Jackman took a selfie with a quokka, the world’s fallen in love with these curious marsupials. Psst! They do look like giant rats. They are everywhere on Rotto (as the locals call it), even in the pub! Then we explore the island on Shanks pony, eventually swimming at Pinky Beach, beneath the exclamation mark of the island’s lighthouse. The sunset was to die for. Along with Norfolk, this must be a ‘bucket list island’ for all Australians.
Epilogue
As the aeroplane prepares for take–off, the captain reminds us to always wear our face masks on the flight. With emerging horror, our steward demonstrating the life jacket drill realises he is sans mask. I chuckle. But this lapse in concentration means the octogenarian has won the titanic struggle for the armrest. To the victor go the spoils. Had we been on the Indian Pacific, I would fetch her a glass of bubbles and find out all about her fascinating life.
Fact box #2: Extend your journey with a holiday package like we did (package 2)
Margaret River Indulgence: This experience dives into Western Australia’s Margaret River Region, known for premium wines, specialty food, artisan providores, and a host of stunning natural assets, ahead of boarding the Indian Pacific. (9 nights)
Rottnest Discovery: Bucolic Rottnest Island, just off the Perth coast, and its smiling quokkas feature in this package, which also includes time to explore Perth. (6 nights)
Great Western Wonders: If you are more outdoorsy than we are, what could be better than an epic transcontinental rail journey paired with eco–luxe glamping and an intimate encounter with the gentle giants of the sea – whale sharks or humpback whales? (9 nights)
Tale of Two Cities 2023: If you love Sydney, top and tail your rail adventure with time to take in the sights of Perth, including Rottnest Island, and the pretty harbour city of Sydney. (9 nights)