The Ghan   Located in Darwin in the Top End, I was now poised to cross the continent by rail from north to south 2979 km (1851 mi) to Adelaide, with Alice Springs almost exactly at the halfway point, on The Ghan (Map by Bidgee). This is a N-S transcontinental rail trip only possible in Australia. I remained well aware of the history of the Overland Telegraph Line that was the precursor of the rail route, having just seen the monument to it in Darwin. I was also well aware of the history of camels in Australia, as well as their connection with the construction of the Ghan. Having just ridden a camel for an hour in Uluru, I pondered how, before the old route had reached north to Alice Springs, passengers would alight at the northernmost railhead, Oodnadatta SA, and change to camels to complete the route to Alice, changing from a rail train--the similarity expressions makes one smile--to a camel train.

I had seen on an old map of Darwin (a map of the wartime bombing, on a monument) that the rail station of the old Ghan, the one that never got built more than one-third the way south to Alice, was located conveniently downtown, just a couple of blocks from my hotel. But for reasons known only to modern business-minded decision-makers, the passenger rail station for “Darwin” is unfortunately not in Darwin at all, but in a southeastern suburb called Berrimah. I suppose they feel that the train still goes to Darwin, if it reaches its suburbs. Passengers with sleeper accommodations (Platinum or Gold, but not Red--I’m Gold) were informed on their ticket to phone in Darwin to see when the complimentary shuttle bus would stop at their hotel for a pickup. Still, a bus to the train smacks too much like a bus to the airport, but so be it.

It was about 20 minutes to Berrimah, and the landscape once there was industrial--neat and presentable, but industrial nevertheless, so it was obvious that freight outweighs people on this route, but nowadays, that’s not too surprising, anyway. Still, I’d like to have seen a freight station in Berrimah, with an extended passenger track into Darwin itself. Nevertheless, this is considered the Ghan’s Darwin Station. Notice the Ghan’s camel-with-rider logo. (C’est moi?)

It struck me as negative when the woman who was the “hospitality manager” stepped onto the bus and started out in rah-rah mode by saying “Is everyone excited!!!!????”, so I was wary of the type of atmosphere I might be in for. Is there no dignity left in the travel world? Would they ask that question on Cunard? They didn’t ask anything like it on the E&O, nor on the Sunlander, which I’d liked considerably, and which was looking better and better all the time as the premier Aussie rail service.

The faux-wood-paneled compartment, which I’d booked for sole use, was comfortable, if plain. Other Gold coaches had something that looked more like formica-paneled walls. It did have its own en suite (as the Brits and Aussies say) toilet, sink, and shower. There were also single compartments, but without en suite toilets. The Sunlander also didn’t have en suite facilities, but they provided a robe, which, surprisingly, one could keep. When I inspected the singles, they did seem smaller, yet quite adequate. But then I never did need all that much space. I checked out the new Platinum Service car, where each compartment is villa-sized, and totally unnecessary for normal mortals. The dining car was one car removed from my location, and the lounge just after that. Comparing it to the Sunlander, you didn’t have your own key to your lockable room as you did on the Sunlander, and I found them a bit stingier with food. On the Sunlander, we immediately got punch on arrival at about 1 PM, and a light tea was served after that. I hadn’t eaten breakfast in Darwin because of the early coach departure, but the Ghan offered nothing on its 9 AM departure until lunch, and no munchies were available in the lounge as on other trains. I still recommend the Ghan, but with the caveats mentioned here.

A man who’d recognized me, stuck his head in my door and reminded me that we’d both been on the same Sunlander trip just over a week earlier. He and his wife had spent the time in the north. At lunch I spoke to a Sydneysider who had spent time in the Top End and who wasn’t nearly as interested as I was in getting back to the cool weather. And then it struck me, including why both the Sunlander and Ghan had auto-carrying cars. I was hopping around Australia to see what I wanted when I wanted, and most of these people were escaping winter in the south for the tropical north! It would make sense to take your car north on one line, drive across the north coast and possibly beyond to Western Australia, and then come back on the other, as a nice winter escape. Only then did I realize these different cross-purposes.

The Queen Adelaide dining car was well-appointed and attractive, and I was interested to see a plaque on the wall saying: “This car has been nominated by its owner, the Commonwealth of Australia, for ultimate preservation as a representative of a dining car . . . on the . . . standard gauge passenger services.”

Just over 3 ½ hours out of Darwin we stopped at Katherine, the only city of any size, small as it is, on the way to Alice. Although there is a river gorge here, the city apparently has even less than Darwin to offer. Still, in the four hours (!!!) we sat there in the outlying station, people flocked to pay for tours (of WHAT?), or paid for the shuttle bus into town, which is something else that should have been provided free of charge, given the outlying station. Beyond that, the 35° (95° F) temperature outside was not inviting. I’d noticed when in Darwin that inland Katherine is usually warmer. The Sunlander didn’t do things like this. It was a real train that went from A to B, not a tourist train that made overlong stops in unnecessary places to inflate the trip. I pondered all this as I wrote (what you’re now reading) in air-conditioned comfort and started the other novel I’d brought along.

However, things got better when there was a reception before dinner in the lounge car, with (finally!) complimentary welcome drinks. Interesting conversations got started there, which continued afterward at dinner, which was really excellent. After a good night’s sleep and refreshing shower, the breakfast in the morning was equally enjoyable, with more very interesting conversations.

Alice Springs   The 11:00 arrival in Alice Springs meant I was back from the Top End into the Red Centre, where I expected pleasant Uluru Red Centre temperatures at this time of the year and was pleased to hear it was 14° (57° F) in Alice Springs, jacket weather again (hooray!). I also spoke to the train manager, who, like the train manager on the E&O, was a woman, a fact I commented on to her. She admitted it had been hard breaking in to a “man’s world”.

It also struck me that, given the over four hours we’d be in Alice Springs over midday, stingy Great Southern Rail, which runs the Ghan, got out of having to serve lunch, so later in town I bought a sandwich. Shouldn’t they at least have offered afternoon tea after the 3:15 departure in compensation for no lunch, especially at the prices we’re paying? I still recommend the trip on the Ghan, but I do tell it how it is, and Queenslander Service on the Sunlander (it’s not run by Great Southern Rail), is preferable to Gold Service on the Ghan, even though the Ghan, along with the Indian Pacific, is better known.

Alice Springs is a pleasant enough small city, but it really has little to see (a bit more than Darwin, assuredly more than Katherine). Nevertheless, they run a number of tours here, at extra charge. I can see a city tour of Sydney, if that’s your inclination, but a city tour of Alice Springs? With all due respect, isn’t that trying to get blood out of a stone? Months earlier I’d decided exactly what I wanted to do in Alice, and it worked out excellently. Notably, it didn’t involve any official tours.

Whenever I see a location, I always look right through the present and see the underlying past. To me, without the past, the present is meaningless. It is sufficient to be aware of the Overland Telegraph Line (OTL) instigating the modern history of central Australia, and also instigating the rail line on a parallel route, as well as being aware of the involvement of camels in the area, which had been imported decades earlier. Of all the so-called “sights” of Alice, most of minimal interest, only the Alice Springs Telegraph Station Historical Reserve, about 5 km north, had any compelling interest for me, and it was a very compelling interest. Therefore, even as we barely had left Darwin the day before, I’d arranged with the “hospitality manager” to arrange a taxi for me in Alice Springs that would drop me off at the Reserve and later pick me up.

When the Ghan arrived at the modern Alice Springs Station, I first went over to see the iconic camel-and-rider statue on the platform, a scene that looked exactly like this picture. Then I dashed over to my waiting taxi.

The Reserve is nearby, but up in a hilly, quiet, pastoral area, full of eucalyptus trees (!!) The spring is also there, so I’d had the image entirely wrong in my mind that the spring was in the town instead (that old entry has been corrected). I asked why the town developed that distance away instead of around the telegraph station, and the suggestion was that the town’s site was in a flatter area, so even as the telegraph site developed into its own small community after being established in 1872, the town also grew at that point. Decades later, the telegraph station was moved down into the town itself. Only in recent times was the telegraph site restored as a historical reserve, since what remained was the most intact station of 12, and was set up to look like the period 1895-1905.

But back to the beginning: the completion of the OTL suddenly reduced the isolation of Australia from the rest of the world, since the exchange of personal and business messages now took hours instead of the months it previously took by sea. But telegraph signals weaken with distance, and have to be strengthened periodically to boost the signal along the route at repeater stations, which on the OTL were every 250-300 km or so between Adelaide and Darwin, with Alice Springs being just about halfway. Telegraph workers settled at a repeater station by the Todd River at a small “spring”. The telegraph operator was like a small-town telephone operator. He had to receive and repeat confidential messages, of births, deaths, or world news, but couldn’t gossip about what he’d heard. He just would listen to the Morse code and then type it out again to relay the electrical pulses to the next station on the line using long or short taps of his Morse key.

Now back to my visit: from the taxi I paid the fee to enter the historic district. Some former buildings, such as the police station, had not been rebuilt, but indications showed that it was a small, yet complete community. Many stone buildings were indeed restored or rebuilt, such as a building called the barracks, which served as a dining facility, schoolroom, and boys’ and girls’ dormitory. There was also a buggy shed, a blacksmith’s shoeing yard, and a battery room, which powered the Alice Springs section of the line. But the two buildings of greatest interest were right at the beginning.

First was the residence of the Station Master and his family, a man of great importance, being in charge of the largest station on the line. He also ran the Post Office, and was the government official in charge of the indigenous population. He also acted as magistrate and held court. He sold rations to travelers and acted as an emergency doctor, following instructions telegraphed (!!!) from Adelaide! The residence was solidly constructed of local stone, with thick walls and verandahs, both to keep out the summer heat. The bedroom, dining room and other rooms were furnished in period.

A reminder should be interjected at this point that the (old, narrow-gauge) railway from Adelaide had reached Oodnadatta SA in 1891, but was finally extended to Alice Springs only in 1929. These were the 38 years when railroad passengers transferred to camels to finish the 700 km (430 mi) trip to Alice (ouch!). In addition, any furnishings at the station had to be transported by camel as well, which would explain for the scarcity of such furnishings. Still there were pianos, dining room sets, full bedrooms. It makes one reflect.

The second building of interest was actually the heart of the station, one that never stopped beating, the Telegraph Office, which also served the community as a Post Office. This picture shows both the pastoral setting of the site and the handsome stone work of the buildings. The office never closed, to allow for the time differences between Australia and overseas. Inside were two adjacent rooms. On the left was the actual office, with instruments on the table as they would have appeared in front of the operator on duty. One box amplified an incoming signal’s sound, especially if the operator had paused to rest. Telegraph wires, maybe five or so, ran around the room embedded in parallel grooves in a wooden molding, which acted as an insulator, to the repeater equipment on the table. The repeated message then went along additional wires in moldings and out the building again. The right-hand room, with the door for the public to enter, was the Post Office, which had much less to do, since mail from South Australia arrived only every six weeks or so, and there were few people in the community anyway to post or receive mail.

But the post office had equipment the visitor could practice on. The Morse Code was on display, and the visitor could tap in words on a telegraph key that was similar to, but not the same as this one, which was then just repeated, clicking out on a receiver further down the counter. Still it was fun to send a message. This is the message I sent to myself:

The telegraph line was referred to as “the singing wire”. Tapping out a message gave one a whole new feeling of “being online”, circa 1872. Then, of course, one begins to wonder if the term “online” in computer technology doesn’t actually date from telegraph technology. It seems logical that it might. What goes around comes around (no pun intended).

This telegraph office operated for 60 years, from 1872 to 1932, when services were finally transferred into town. This was the routing, once the OTL was completed: Adelaide-Alice Springs-Darwin-Banjoewangi (east coast of Java)-Batavia (today Jakarta)-Singapore-Penang-Madras-Bombay-Aden-Suez-Alexandria-Malta-Gibraltar-Falmouth (England)-London. And today, you pick up a phone, possibly out of your pocket, and the signal bounces off a satellite.

Directly adjacent to the station and in an equally pastoral setting is the usually dry Todd River (water flows only a few times a year). As discussed at the end of 2010/12, it was named after Sir Charles Todd, the Postmaster General of South Australia at the time, and Alice Springs was named after his wife. However, there were a few surprises here. First of all, the river was flowing in a reasonable, although not huge volume, given the amount of gravel still exposed. Secondly, not only is the plural “springs” inaccurate here, even the singular “spring” doesn’t make sense, since there’s no spring. What there is, is a depression in the riverbed where the water pools up a bit, forming, essentially, a waterhole, which, like the river it depends on, is often dry, although conceivably might last a bit longer when the river dries up, given its slightly deeper depth. In any case, a more accurate name for this water source and the entire town down the hill would be Alice Waterhole, but I suppose Alice Springs, especially in the plural, sounded more elegant. An explanatory sign nearby dryly notes that Mrs Alice Todd never visited Alice Springs. Given that, she certainly wouldn’t have visited a place named Alice Waterhole.

The taxi brought me back to the station and I picked up a local town map and took a 15-minute walk into the center. I went a bit beyond over a bridge to note that the Todd River was indeed flowing, although it was narrower here in town. Two parallel streets inland, a couple of blocks of Todd Street had been converted to Todd Mall, a pleasant pedestrian area. Just 2-3 minutes before I got back to the rail station the rain started, so I did get wet again, but not as much as at Uluru. I suppose that’s the price you have to pay if you want to see the Todd River flowing--and Alice Waterhole filled.

On our second and final night there was again good food and good conversation, and the chef came out of the kitchen at the end to distribute some chocolates to each table, which was a nice touch. During the evening we crossed into South Australia. The next morning, after a nice breakfast, morning tea was served in the dining car before arriving in Adelaide. I sat with three people traveling together, a man and two women who’d been childhood friends. I brought up Australianisms, such as fair dinkum (“genuine, honest”; see 2010/12), as well as my other favorite/favourite one. While most English speakers congratulating someone about something well done would say “good for you”, either with end stress (good for YOU!) or dual stress (GOOD for YOU!), most Australians use a variation that has very unusual stress. They replace “for” with “on”, and then, oddly enough, stress it: “good ON you”, which comes out sounding like gu.DON.ya. I love it when I hear it, and managed to use it in conversation toward the end of our tea, to general amusement. That phrase is fair dinkum Aussie (Ozzie). Right, mates (mites)?

Adelaide   We said at the end of 2010/12 that Adelaide, the capital of South Australia, was named after the German-born British Queen Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen, who was the consort of King William IV, who in turn got the main north-south street in Adelaide named after him. Adelaide, as a proper name, is the English version of a Germanic name, from Old High German Adalheidis (“nobility”). The modern German name is Adelheid, which, whether you realize it or not, you are indirectly familiar with, since the last syllable of Adelheid appears, along with the diminutive -i (as in Mutti/Mommy), in the nickname Heidi, a name that became world famous because of Johanna Spyri’s 1880 novel and heroine of that name. The name had also moved early on into (non-Germanic) French as Adélaïde, which is the form that was borrowed by English. Since the nickname for English Adelaide is Addie, taken from the front of Adelaide, it could be said (it’s a stretch) that Addie and Heidi (taken from the back of Adelheid) are distantly related names. It is also worth realizing that Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen, before her transfer to England, was indeed Adelheid von Sachsen-Meiningen, and is still known that way in German. (Queen Heidi?)

Adelaide was founded in 1836 to be the capital of a freely settled (no convicts) South Australia. Colonel William Light, the son of Captain Francis Light, the founder of Penang (2010/16), designed the layout of the city as a square-mile grid with wide boulevards and public squares surrounded by a greenbelt and parklands. The initial design was farsighted enough that little modification, such as adding roads or parks, was necessary as the city grew, since they were already there. (Canberra is the only other Australian planned city, but with strikingly different results [2010/19].) The planning of Adelaide is known as “Light’s Vision”, and is celebrated as such, and one of the main squares is Light Square.

This map of Adelaide shows “Light’s Vision”. Note the number of parklands surrounding Adelaide, below, and North Adelaide, above. Suburbs are clearly defined as being outside the Adelaide Parklands. The four streets around central Adelaide are North Terrace, the most important one, plus East, South, and West Terraces. Diamond-shaped Victoria Square is in the center, with King William Street running north and south of it. Of the four other squares, Light Square is on the upper left.

It becomes clear why the new rail terminal for standard-gauge interstate trains should be called Parklands Terminal (here indicated as “Rail Line”), while the broad-gauge suburban services enter town into Adelaide Terminal. The one surviving tram line, the Glenelg Tram dating from 1873 is in red. It runs south to Glenelg, and used to go only to Victoria Square. It’s been upgraded (from broad gauge to standard), totally modernized, and extended north as shown.

“Light’s Vision” is obviously the jewel of Adelaide. Look at it from the air. Unfortunately, you’re turned around, looking to the southeast. North Terrace is toward the left, the most visible square is Light Square, with Victoria Square and King William Street in the center hidden by high-rises. Still, the Parklands continue to impress.

I got off the Ghan to 14° (57°F) jacket weather, which increased to jacket-and-sweater weather the next day. The shuttle bus from Parklands Terminal got me to my hotel at the north end of Victoria Square in no more than 6-7 minutes, things are that close, and my immediate reaction was that I liked Adelaide very much. Like Brisbane, there isn’t much specific to point out, it’s just the general feeling of the place. From Victoria Square I walked up King William Street (it’s a coincidence in naming that she succeeded him, her uncle) and reviewed the handsome traditional and modern buildings. But the key phrase here is traditional buildings, because I stayed in one. This is a 1950 photo of the north end of Victoria Square, with King William Street leading out of it. Although the picture is dated, mentally add modern traffic and a few high rises, but the traditional buildings look the same. The handsome towered building in the foreground is the General Post Office of 1867. When I walked through it, I pictured its probable involvement in the Overland Telegraph Line to Darwin, and also the mail that must have been sent from here to Alice Springs, taking six weeks. I also recalled that Alice was the wife of Charles Todd, who had been the Postmaster General of SA. The clock in the tower struck the time regularly. The other tower further up King William Street is on the Town Hall.

But closer than the Town Hall and opposite the Post Office is what was, when this picture was taken, the Treasury Building, and which since 2002, has been the long-named hotel I stayed at, the Medina Grand Adelaide Treasury Hotel. The original Treasury building was put up in 1839, just three years after Adelaide was founded. It had eight major revisions and expansions between then and 1909. In the 2002 conversion to a hotel, archeologists found and exposed part of the original foundation in the hotel lobby. In one hall there are a couple of cast-iron columns from an 1867 revision, also left visible. In the center of the hotel is an outdoor atrium with fountain and café, which my windows looked out on. It was nice living surrounded by history right in the center of things.

On my second day, I rode the modern Glenelg tram, but not all the way out to Glenelg, just along the fare-free section north of South Terrace, and out to the newly opened northern extension, which is temporarily also fare-free. And then I bought a hat.

I do not shop when traveling unless something really pops out at me, which is rare. I also don’t usually wear hats, except that I bought a floppy bucket hat (fisherman’s hat) just for this trip for sun (and rain) protection, which was useful at Uluru. Also, it was chilly enough here in Adelaide that I wore it today. While in Uluru I’d noticed the broad-brimmed Australian bush hats for sale, and noticed that Barmah was a quality manufacturer. But I stalled. I looked in Darwin as well, but decided a hat wasn’t for me. Then walking around in Adelaide with extra time on my hands, I went into the pedestrian area known as the Rundle Mall, shown here at its entrance off King William Street. The tourist bureau directed me to the landmarked, Victorian Adelaide Arcade which abuts the Mall, and to Adelaide Hatters. And after a while I emerged wearing my bush hat. I’ve had it on all day, even in the hotel room. Although I promise I’ll neither shower nor sleep with it on, it’s being put to good and constant use, at least so far. It’s kangaroo leather, broad-brimmed, and dark brown. Here’s the Kangaroo Collection on the Barmah website. Scroll down and click on 1019 BR (brown), to what they call their Sundowner style, and picture me underneath.

The Overland   It was another early-rise morning for me to catch the return shuttle I’d booked to Parklands Terminal to catch the Overland, not to be confused with the New Zealand train I’d taken last year on North Island called the Overlander. It’s the only major day-train I’d be taking in Australia, this one to Melbourne, and also run by Great Southern Rail. It descends from a train that started running in 1887 and got its current name in 1926, although the overnight sleeping-car service is long gone. As of 1994, the line is standard gauge (on either standard or dual-gauge track). The trip appears scheduled to take eleven hours (7:40 to 18:40) and to cover 828 km (514 mi), but since we cross back from Central to Eastern time when leaving South Australia and entering Victoria, we lose that (quirky) half-hour difference, so the trip actually takes 10 ½ hours. Coach service on Australian trains is referred to as Red Class (the Ghan had both Red Class and Red Class Sleepers), and, following an extensive refurbishment in 2007, added to the Overland’s Red Service (2-and-2 seating across) is a car with Premium Red Service, which I chose. It has very roomy 1-and-2 seating with a wide aisle in between, and I got a single seat to myself. It has wider, armchair seats with more leg room, free blankets and pillows, and service by two attendants, either by trolley or by stepping into the adjacent café car, which has power points (outlets), and where I’m writing this. At the town of Murray Bridge, we crossed the Murray, Australia’s largest river, that divides NSW and VIC, but which at this point is totally in South Australia.

In Melbourne, the Overland terminates at the very modern Southern Cross Station (2006) on the western end of the central business district, which replaced the former Spencer Street Station of 1859. Under its undulating roof are standard-gauge platforms (actually, dual-gauge) that also accommodate the Melbourne-Sydney XTP I’ll be taking later, as well as broad-gauge platforms for local service, just as Roma Street Station in Brisbane also accommodates local narrow-gauge trains. As we pulled into Southern Cross, the train manager announced on the PA that we should return our seats to the upright position as we come in for our landing, which broke everybody up.