The Ghan Or: Everyone on this train is a suspect

Oh, Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist, in a land called Honah Lee
Puff, the magic dragon, lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist, in a land called Honah Lee

Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff’s gigantic tail
Noble kings and princes would bow whenever they came
Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name

Puff The Magic Dragon. Peter, Paul, and Mary

It was 10:30 AM, rock music blaring over the portable speaker in the middle of the lounge, drinks flowing freely: beer, wine, champagne. The odd non-alcoholic drink. The barista-turned-bartender was entertaining the single guys at the bar. All of them double her age. All the ladies were getting increasingly chatty. Everyone was getting increasingly happy. Happy hour on The Ghan had started early. It was 10:30AM! And we were stuck!

It was the third day on my journey from Darwin in the North of Australia, to Adelaide in the south. The third day on the iconic Australian train The Ghan, and we were about halfway on the almost 3000 km long ride. We had made it to Marla in the centre of this vast country. The Red Centre of Australia. 

Riding on The Ghan had been on my bucket list ever since arriving Down Under five years ago. I booked a spot on the train in 2019, the trip got covid-cancelled, I rebooked three years later, and here I was – finally. A dream come true. My dream come true! But for now, we were stuck!

It had all started the day before when arriving in Alice Springs. Usual temperatures this time of year were in the mid-twenties, but they had dropped just above zero the night before. Wearing all the clothes from our tiny carry-on suitcases, I was glad to be on the hiking excursion to warm up quickly. The silver lining: clear blue skies and no flies to bother us, which I remembered them doing when visiting the Red Centre five years ago. 

Once the sun was gone, it had gotten quite chilly, even by Canadian standards. The dinner under the stars at Telegraph Station had us all looking like Michelin men, dressed in sweaters and puffer jackets, wearing gloves and beanies. A soft, black fleece poncho as a souvenir for our time on The Ghan, together with firepits and swing dancing, had kept everyone fairly warm and comfortable. Even Harry the camel wasn’t complaining. Well, at least not about the cool temperatures. Maybe about his own stinky smell.

The cold winter night in the middle of the red desert had made the stars come out and the steel train tracks crack. Full of food, and happy from the drink, the train’s passengers had settled into their cozy bunks only to realize in the middle of the night that the train had stopped. And it still wasn’t moving by breakfast time. Which no one minded as long as we were served coffee and eggs and bacon and delicious bacon bread. Though that’s when the rumours started: The engine had broken! We all needed to continue by coach bus! Or even worse – there was no more wine on board!

“Dear Guests, this is Ally your Journey Director with a few updates”. Finally, the voice on the speaker system would let us know what had caused the delay and standstill. “Due to the extreme (!) cold in Alice, the tracks 1km ahead of us cracked during the night and have to be fixed before we can proceed on our way. In addition to that, we just have been informed that the roads to our off-train excursion to the underground mining town of Coober Pedy have been washed away by heavy downpours, making it impossible for us to go there to check out the Opal mines and underground living.” 

Welcome to the Australian Red Desert, a place of extreme dryness and heat!? Just saying!

Instead, the train organizers decided to keep all 273 passengers onboard the train for the whole day, feed us the catered food from Coober Pedy (still wondering how they got it to us considering the washed-out roads) and supply us with unlimited amounts of alcoholic beverages. By afternoon, after having met the representatives from the opal mines (who also made their way from Coober Pedy to the train) and being offered the opportunity to purchase an opal or two (which I probably would by then, just having finished my third rosé wine), we were finally allowed off the train. 

This sounded more exciting than it actually was, as we were stranded at Marla station in the middle of the desert, which offered a few wooden picnic benches, a rustic metal shed, and some rock art graffiti style spelling “FLAT EARTH”. I considered running into the wild and hiding behind one of the dry bushes, or looking for one of the many burnt-out car wrecks you see when travelling through the red desert. Maybe I would just stay on board and switch from rosé to red wine. I liked my wine to match my surroundings.

Everyone on this train is a suspect. And you get to know each other very well, especially when you are stuck in a small lounge/bar for hours/days. Everyone is a friend. Or a fiend. The old lady who celebrated her 80th birthday on board, not wanting to share her cake with any of the other passengers at her table. Each meal you sit with different people – for some reason I ended up sitting with the lady from Sydney every time. We developed a bit of a love/hate relationship over the five days we spent on the train.

The young woman from Salt Lake City, who became my carriage neighbour and camel-riding-partner in crime. We may not have agreed on politics or religion, but that was the beauty of this trip. You met people from all walks, or should I say journeys of life.

Summer, the girl from South Korea, who worked her first shift on the train and did everything from pouring us coffee in the morning, making sure we got back on the train after an excursion, to making up our beds at night. Even putting a chocolate on our pillows. A Betthuprferl in the middle of the desert!

Lots of elderly couples from Australia were on board, many of them from Melbourne actually. They were trying to escape the Melbourne cold only to get caught in the coldest night of the year. Life is funny that way sometimes. For many fellow travellers, I met on this train ride, The Ghan had been on their bucket list for a long time. Others were regular train travellers, having been on the Indian Pacific (Sydney to Perth), the Great Southern (Brisbane to Adelaide), or the Overland (Melbourne to Adelaide).

I had only been on a passenger train from Sydney to Melbourne before. A much shorter train ride by Australian standards, though it seemed much longer than 12 hours back then due to the significant delay and the lack of bottomless drinks.

But I had travelled through Canada from Toronto to Vancouver years ago and had been a great fan of train journeys ever since. The idea of nothing to do but looking out of the window, reading, sleeping, napping, and disconnecting from the world seemed like paradise to me. Until I got stuck on this train with nothing to do but looking out of the window, reading, sleeping, napping, and disconnecting from the world. 

As I sat in my single compartment, watching the beautiful red land go by, I found myself contemplating life. Only a few weeks ago, my teaching position at my home school back in Toronto had been declared redundant. Instead, they wanted me to teach Year 7 and 8 French Immersion. Not my age group. Not my forte. Not my dream come true. At all. They also offered me a job in Primary at a different school that I had never been to. Some may call it a new start. To me, at that moment, it was yet another new start. 

After years of new starts – admittedly all choices made by me – I was tired of starting over. Tired of new schools, new colleagues, new children, new leadership, new curriculum, new language. Tired of meeting new people, of putting myself out there and proving myself. Tired of creating new resources, starting from scratch. I am tired. That’s all.

And so I decided to extend my contract, and to stay in Sydney for a little while longer. The prospect of teaching the same kids, seeing the familiar friendly faces of my colleagues in Sydney, continue using my mother tongue to instruct instead of a foreign language, calmed my mind like the red desert plains passing by in front of my train window. There was comfort in the familiar.

What was meant to be my farewell trip had turned into the beginning of a new start. The beginning of my Australia 3.0. As I watched the landscape roll by, however, I did say a few goodbyes. Goodbye to my job security back in Canada, goodbye to being closer to my family and friends back home, goodbye to what was supposed to be. But as they say: every ending is the beginning of a new start!

Today we were supposed to visit a really cool place in the centre of Australia. Coober Pedy – an active mining town with half its population living underground to escape the extreme from above. But things changed. Instead, I was sitting in a wood-panelled lounge car surrounded by people I had only met a few days ago, singing along to Peter, Paul and Mary’s “Puff, the Magic Dragon”. Everyone on this train was a suspect of becoming a person that might be interesting to meet. Or annoy the hell out of you. To make you laugh. Or amuse you by watching them from a distance.

Together with these suspicious strangers, I had swum in refreshing waterholes in the Top End of Australia and hiked through the red desert dirt. We admired the astonishing rock art in Kakadu Park, the sparkling waters of the Katherine Gorge, and the beautiful red rocks of the Red Centre. Together with these strangers turned familiar faces, I got stuck on a train and found the time to get unstuck myself. Everyone on this train was a suspect to make this experience even more fantastic and unique. Everyone!

P.S. The Ghan is the iconic train running from Darwin in the Northern Territories to Adelaide in Southern Australia. Originally a freight route, the name comes from a shortening of “Afghan Express”: a tribute to the camel-riding explorers of Australia’s post who came from the Middle East, and traversed the red desert long before steel tracks and steam engines. 

The camels that had helped build the train route which bisects the huge desert of Australia almost exactly down the middle, were released into the wild once their job was done. They became the beginning of what is today the largest feral camel population in the world.

P.P.S. Eventually, they did let us get off the train. Next to more free wine, open fires, and the astonishing view of the Ghan train stretched out to its entire length, there was a rainbow reaching from the train into the red desert around us. I wonder how the train crew managed to organize that! Well done!

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue. And the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true”. 

P.P.P.S: I did not purchase an opal ring as its price of $1250 was out of my range. Instead I bought a hat in Ghan burgundy red, the slogan “The Legendary Ghan” embroidered on its front and the picture of a man in a turban atop a camel. Everyone on this train is a suspect. Including myself. Ghantastic!