The Ghan & Katherine’s Gorge

 

After a week in Adelaide riding the free bus, buying appropriate clothing (including a proper Aussie/Indiana Jones/Crocodile Dundee hat) and cruising the backstairs passage I headed for the train terminal and the start of a truly epic adventure on The Ghan.

The Ghan is a train, almost a kilometre long that runs from Adelaide to Darwin right up through the middle of the country. It’s name harks back to the camel riders of old, mostly from Afghanistan who rode trains of camels across the country. It now travels with first class passengers on an orient express style adventure through the desert complete with cabins, bar and a dining car.

it is a grand affair, you are greeted with champagne as you check in and gasp at the sheer size of the train. (It stands at first on two separate platforms so everyone can get onboard) I was in coach K room 13, which turned out to be lucky for me. The single cabins are an ikea dream of compact efficiency, seats and table by day, bed by night.

 

Your journey comes complete with in cabin radio, slippers, magazine, reference book and journey map so you can see where about in the middle of nowhere you actually are. The beginning of the journey starts in the sunny south with golden fields and blue skies, then gradually the landscape changes to scorched red earth with tufts of blue saltbushes reaching out to the horizon. It is mesmerising.

I had books to read and maps to follow but honestly I spent probably hours just transfixed at the unfolding show before me. When I did prise myself from the window I had the slightly grown up task of having dinner, in the dining car, with Hercule Poirot (unfortunately not) and a selection of wealthy retired Australians.

It is fair to say that I was at least two decades younger than the rest of the travellers, the only Brit (in my dining car) and possibly the silliest person there. At least I thought I was, until I met my fellow cabin traveller Mr Oliver-Dearman. Tony will be reading this and starting to throw things at his computer screen or phone citizens advice for ‘slander & libel cases’ (good luck my friend). The truth is Tony is as slightly eccentric as I am, and within a few hours we were already closing ranks, taking the mickey out of each other and generally being a bit silly amongst a group of well to do grown ups. (Tony is, I hasten to add, at least a hundred and fifty years old, so I am still right about being younger than the other travellers)!

As well as travelling through some of the most amazing scenery in the world The Ghan arranges little tours, a break to stretch your legs and peel your face off the window pane. Our first stop was to see the dawn rise over the outback, at a place called Marla (or Middle-o-nowhere’s-ville). We were woken before six to stumble out of the coach in the darkness with the sight of two bonfires alight and a warm mug of coffee waiting for us. It’s difficult to find any more superlatives to describe this unworldly sight but it was magical, let’s leave it at that.

We carried on to the real and original middle-of-nowhere ‘Alice Springs’. It was 42C in Alice. I’d signed up for a camel ride but there was not enough room due to a camel having twisted his ankle. (Some excuse!) So  somewhat dejected I headed to The Alice Springs Desert Park, which turned out to be where Tony was going, so I could annoy him all day and suddenly things were looking up!

It was hot. And very bright. But a landscape and nature like none I’d seen before.

After a not too surprising migraine I took to my cabin like a true witheringly sick Edwardian lady. The cool darkness and ham sandwich from the restaurant car was just what I needed to reboot. Unfortunately Tony had been left to survive the chit chat of the grown ups on his own so spent the evening cursing me inwardly whilst seeming interested in Pam and Trevs last cruise.

The next morning was a trip out to Katherine’s gorge. I’m sure not many people have visited Katherine’s gorge in the wet season. The terrain had changed greatly since Alice, now out the window were lush forests of green and no longer the huge skies. The river was high so only part of the gorge could be reached. It was a bit like being in an Indiana Jones film, I expected at any minute for us to be hurled down into the rapids chased by indigenous tribes.

In reality Tony got over excited, wandering around the boat taking lots of photos, I had another migraine and then we both hobbled slowly across the rocks with our individual knee complaints like a couple of octogenarians. We were en route to see some 8,000 year old indigenous rock art. It was stunning. I tried my best to look like an explorer. I hope you appreciate the hat. I’m glad to say we fought off the salties (salt water crocs) (most dangerous kind) rode the rapids and survived the waterfall all in time to be back for lunch in the dining car.

It was with real sadness that we left the Ghan. I had just got used to the restful chug and rattle at night, the excellent service of the very hard working staff, the awesome landscapes and the frisson of excitement that at any moment there may be a murder!  But we had to leave and arrived at a soggy tropical Darwin, end of the line.

Next stop, Fannie Bay.