On arrival in Port Melbourne off the Spirit of Tasmania and using my pre-purchased Metcard to step onto Tram 109 and then to take the train to Belgrave, something occurred to me. The continuous rail trips in Australia have been broken up by plane, ship, and bus into three segments. The first two were northbound from Sydney via Brisbane to Cairns and Kuranda (XTP [Express Passenger Train] to Sunlander [Queenslander Class] to Kuranda Scenic Railway) and southbound from Darwin via Alice and Adelaide to Melbourne and Port Melbourne (Ghan to Overland to Tram 109), but now, stepping onto the tram, I’d be doing a most unusual continuous third component:

This third rail component means that I will have stepped onto land at Port Melbourne and will have traveled by no means other than rail from the Bass Strait area to the Indian Ocean.

Puffing Billy   Rail enthusiasts (Britspeak & Aussiespeak; Amer: railfans) reading this will probably need no introduction to what Puffing Billy is, but most others probably will. These others have just been exposed to an instructional technique I’ve used for this and have used many times. Mention an unknown item several times, then when it’s time to explain it, even newbies will have the feeling that they’ve already heard of it before. Familiarity breeds recognition. I also used the technique when talking about Wat Po in Thailand. It’s handy, effective and so easy to use.

Puffing Billy is a rail orphan. But let’s review “rail thrust” and “rail orphan”. When NSW thrusts standard gauge over the state border into narrow-gauge Queensland to Roma Street, or thrusts a much longer standard-gauge route into broad-gauge Victoria to Southern Cross, these are examples of rail thrust, in other words, sending any gauge into another gauge’s territory.

But rail thrust usually results in rail orphans. When the main line is changed in any way, such as to standard gauge, you have a problem with all the feeder lines to that main line. Either you spend money to change them too, or, more likely, you leave them as is, and they become rail orphans, since where they now meet the main line there’ll be a new break of gauge, and subsequent change of trains.

Puffing Billy, which today starts at the Belgrave station, is a rather unique rail orphan in that it never was a feeder line, so therein lies a tale. How could that be?

At the start of the 20C, Victorian Railways decided to build four lines to open outlying areas to settlement. To save money, they made these lines not only narrow gauge, they made them a particularly narrow narrow gauge, with the tracks only 762 mm (2’ 6”) apart, and the rolling stock accordingly narrow. Three of those lines are gone now, but most of the fourth is now the route of Puffing Billy, which was originally meant to open to settlement remote areas of the southern foothills of the Dandenong Ranges, about 40 km (25 mi) east of Melbourne, and to serve the local farming and timber community. The railway ended the isolation of the communities it served, and the city was now hours away, not days.

But when you’re connecting a narrow-gauge line with another line in broad-gauge Victoria, you’re going to have to plan on having a purpose-built break-of-gauge station, and that was located at the Upper Ferntree Gully station, about three stations or so before Belgrave. That is to say, the route of narrow-gauge Puffing Billy started at Upper Ferntree Gully, went through Belgrave, and ended out at Gembrook, a town so named since prospectors looking for precious stones had found gems in a brook there.

Now let’s review this break of gauge that was then in Upper Ferntree Gully and is today a bit further along in Belgrave. Standard gauge of 1435 mm (4’ 8.5”) doesn’t enter into the equation here, but is mentioned as a reference. Cape gauge, the very common narrow gauge used in Queensland, is 1067 mm (3’ 6”). The narrow gauge used for Puffing Billy is a remarkable 762 mm (2’ 6”), only 71% of Cape gauge, so it’s a narrow narrow gauge. The Irish broad gauge used in Victoria is 1600 mm (5’ 3’). Therefore, the space between Puffing Billy’s tracks is less than half (48%) of the other tracks in Victoria, including the ones, then in Upper Ferntree Gully, today in Belgrave, leading up to it. The entire operation has a petite feel.

The Puffing Billy line was opened on 18 Dec 1900, which means the line is exactly two weeks older than the Commonwealth of Australia, founded 1 Jan 1901. In its first years it had freight operations, regular passenger operations serving a number of stations, and tourist operations in cars open on the sides. However, by mid-century, the line was in trouble. Roads had come in the 1940’s and 1950’s to the area to compete with the train, and then, in 1953, a landslide covered the line beyond Belgrave, just before the Menzies Creek station. Today, a large sign still points out the landslide. These factors, plus the break of gauge, caused the entire Puffing Billy line to be closed that year.

Then, by 1962, the thinking was that just the first few stations on the line were worth saving, so that first stretch, the 3-4 stations from Upper Ferntree Gully to Belgrave, was converted to broad gauge then and entirely modernized. Everything beyond was abandoned.

But in 1955 the Puffing Billy Preservation Society was formed and, coinciding with the conversion to broad gauge of those few stations to Belgrave, it reopened the first stretch of the heritage line from Belgrave to Menzies Creek, after the track was reconfigured around the landslide, and reopened in stages the rest of the line all the way to Gembrook.

So back to the uniqueness of Puffing Billy being a rail orphan. If the entire line had become a heritage railway, it would not be an orphan at all, since that old break-of-gauge had been a planned one. But since the first few stations were converted to broad to fit in with the rest of the system, that move orphaned the rest of the line. This is unusual, since it’s usually feeder lines coming in from the side that get orphaned, not the end of the main line.

Puffing Billy is one of the most popular steam heritage railways in the world, attracting visitors from across Australia and around the world, such as moi. It is kept operational by hundreds of thoroughly trained volunteers of the Puffing Billy Preservation Society, without whose work its operation wouldn’t be economical, plus a small group of full-time professionals. The society now has a post-preservation history spanning over 50 years (1955-2005).

The restoration attempts to reflect the first three decades of the railway’s existence, that is, of the first three decades of the 20C, but with emphasis on the early 1920’s. They have 15 special open-sided carriages that were purpose-built for the tourist traffic on this line by Victorian Rail in 1918-1919 and 10 more reproductions in the same style. Sitting sideways in the open-faced carriages remains a popular feature, but is better in the summer than in the winter. There is also a number of enclosed carriages with compartments. They own over a half-dozen locomotives, mostly steam, but a couple of diesels for the occasional days when a forest-fire hazard is declared. There are several timber trestles, and one well-known one of 15 spans is heritage listed all on its own. While there are no more goods and livestock carried, there are more passengers than ever, who enjoy the views of forests, fern gullies and farmlands. This is a view crossing the large trestle. Note the open cars, and the closed car, as it wends it way through the forest. This must be on the return run, since the engine is running backwards.

The distance from Belgrave to Gembrook is 25.1 km (15.6 mi), and the stations in between are Menzies Creek at about ¼ of the way, and Lakeside at little more than half. The train runs leisurely at about 25 km/h (15 mph).

Everyone must wonder at the unusual name given the railway by the locals years ago, and no person or source I consulted claims to know why it’s named as it is, but this is what seems to me to be quite obvious. A “Puffing” steam engine is clear, but why “Billy”? The misleading image is that it’s a man’s name, but I refer the reader to 2010/9 and the discussion of Waltzing Matilda, where the swagman took billabong water to make billy tea in his billy (or billycan; the origin of “billy” is explained there). If a billy is a metal vessel used for boiling water, and the metal boiler on a steam engine also boils water to make steam, it would seem that the local people were affectionately calling their petite train a puffing cookpot. I have no references to back it up, but I present it as a viable and likely explanation.

Getting back to my just-after-dawn arrival in Port Melbourne off the Spirit of Tasmania above, having some extra time on my hands, I took Tram 109 beyond where it entered the Hoddle Grid at Spencer Street and rode it down to the east end instead. Here, to experience the City Loop, I got on it at the underground Parliament Station on the east side, rode through the two stations on the north side, then emerged above ground on the west side at Southern Cross Station. Here the line emerges on an above-ground trestle and swings around to Flinders Street Station on the south side, where I got off, had breakfast, and awaited my train to Belgrave, about an hour’s ride eastward.

The contemporary Belgrave Station is in an open cut, that is, there are earthen slopes on both sides of the modern two-sided platform, and an overpass takes the local street across to the other side. I didn’t fully realize as I got off the train the extent to which this would be my last visit to the present for a while.

The instructions I’d gotten, probably online, were cryptically, to “follow the blue line”. What could that mean? But sure enough, painted along the concrete platform was a broad, blue line running to the front of the modern suburban train I’d just gotten off. I began to realize it was the equivalent of Dorothy’s Yellow Brick Road. Well, I WAS in Oz, wasn’t I?

At the end of the platform, the sides and bottom of the cut had been filled in a bit to make a smaller opening, but the blue line continued over the asphalt through this narrower gap. Suddenly, one changed from being Dorothy to being Alice, walking Through the Looking Glass. On the far side of the gap, protruding suddenly from the asphalt, was a pair of very narrow tracks, apparently left just as they’d been when the gap was built over them, orphaning them, in 1962. They stuck out somewhat grotesquely, something like the legs of the Wicked Witch of the West stuck out from under Dorothy’s house. But they continued on ahead to what was the alter ego of the Belgrave Station I’d just left, another station called Puffing Billy Belgrave Station, surrounded by small trains. Only the munchkins were missing. It was a short walk of just 500 m (about ¼ mile) between Belgrave Stations, but it was like walking through a veil from present to past. But it’s a past filled with humanity. I feel sorry for the people who arrive here by car, or worse, who arrive by bus in a huge tour group. They not only miss the rail-to-rail experience, they also miss the Through the Looking Glass experience connecting the Belgrave stations.

This is the point where the experience temporarily started to go downhill, but, as they say, it’s always darkest before the dawn, and a little while afterward the experience developed into a high point of the Australian trip, at least equal to, but probably better than, my appearing for 15 seconds on New Zealand television last year (2009/9).

The train only does the full trip to Gembrook in the winter on weekends, going only halfway to Lakeside midweek, but I’d been glad to note online that this week was the first time this season that it went to Gembrook weekdays as well. My plan was to take the 11:10 all the way, have lunch, and then return to Belgrave. Simple enough.

But I arrived and bought my ticket shortly before a 10:30 departure that went only halfway to Lakeside. It was suggested that I take this train, spend a little time in Lakeside, and only then join the train that went all the way. But something seemed wrong.

There were families galore with lots and lots of kids. There were tour buses that had engorged scads of Japanese tourists. Only later did I learn that this was the first of two weeks’ school holidays, and the shorter, 10:30 departure, was popular in any case with families, and with all the tour buses. I didn’t know yet that later trains were almost empty at this time of the year. Things were not starting out well.

The 10:30 was jammed full, but what did I know? Maybe they were full all day long. I couldn’t get into one of the few closed carriages, and was seated in an open one right behind the engine. Worse, it was crowded, and there were at least a dozen kids looking for a “choo-choo” experience, plus Japanese tourists clicking away at everything that moved, and also that didn’t. As we started up, the movement caused a breeze to chill us. Not good.

The trip from Belgrave to the first stop, Menzies Creek, runs for 6 km and covers 25% of the total distance. I was not a happy camper. Cold. Choo-choo. Click-click. We got to Menzies Creek and the conductor called for a ten-minute stop, and most of us got out. I walked up to the engine to take a look, and, as honey attracts flies, it was virtually covered by Japanese tourists having their pictures taken in front of it.

I stepped back a bit where the train driver (Amer: engineer) had stepped down from his cab, and, in exasperation, asked him how he, as an obvious rail enthusiast, can put up with all these scurrying kiddies and tourists going click-click. We then struck up a very interesting conversation. I told him of my Oz rail travels. He told me of his US and Canada rail travels. We ended up playing a version of “travel poker” which I suppose could be called “rail travel poker”. He mentioned he’d been on the Skeena from Jasper to Prince Rupert. I had as well, so I “saw” his Skeena and “raised” him a Yukon & White Pass Railroad, which he matched as well. We were getting along famously, and the quality of the day had started to improve considerably. Then the conductor blew his “all aboard” whistle, at which point the quality of the day shot through the roof. The train driver started to climb up back into his cab, but then with a jerk of his head towards the cab he said to me “C’mon, get in”.

If someone had been making a movie of this, this is the point where the background music would swell to a crescendo. I hadn’t the foggiest idea that our conversation would lead this way, but I need to explain, so as not to seem hypocritical.

It’s hard to explain, even to other rail enthusiasts, just what my rail passion is. For some, it’s the equipment and rolling stock, present and past. I respect that interest, but it’s not mine. For others, it’s historic trains and rail museums. I do love historic trains, just as I love historic buildings, although I feel that, if you’ve seen one rail museum (and I have), you’ve seen ‘em all. And for many rail enthusiasts, the magic word is “steam”. Some will travel around the world, just to travel on a steam train. For me, that the Yukon and Puffing Billy were steam trains was just a nice addition to their being historic trains. Steam is not a passion with me.

My rail passion is routings, present and past, which is essentially a travel connection. Where does all that track lead to? Are they laying down more track? How to you put together a rail trip around Europe? Around the world? In a rectangle around the continental US? Around Australia? How about that Eurostar? The shinkansen? Do you think Amtrak will restore the old Chicago to Florida route? Why did there used to be a route from Philadelphia to Boston that was laid specifically to avoid New York City (answer later this year)? Just look at all those high-speed lines China is putting in. How about the US? How about Australia?

So my rail passions are all travel-related, and not strongly related to other things like steam, but not to be hypocritical, when I got that invitation to climb up into the cab of that steam engine I became STEAM FREAK FOR A DAY!

I must say before I describe the experience that, when we parted later, he gave me his card and I gave him mine. It turns out that Graeme Daniel is actually Supervisor for Locomotive Operations for the Puffing Billy Railroad, while the fireman he introduced me to is one of the volunteers.

So Graeme climbed into the cab and The Hat and I followed. If this is not the very same engine than it was one very much like it. (Note the closed carriage that follows, the wooded area the train traverses, and the general petite look, including the track width.) I assume all engine cabs are compact, but remember the small size of Puffing Billy. This was a tiny, cramped space. Graeme stayed on the right side and directed me to the left side beyond the fireman in the center, where I glued myself to the wall and half-sat on a narrow ledge. The poor fireman had to reach in front of me to constantly twist valves and throw levers, while Graeme got the train moving, chugga-chugga-chug, with now three steam freaks (and The Hat) in the cab. Graeme and I talked about rail and more, while the fireman slid up a trap door in the lower center of the back wall and a pile of coal slid out, which he then stoked into the fire with a shovel. Needless to say, it was nice and warm there, despite there being no windows. Graeme pointed out when we came to a steep 1-in-33 grade, or about 3%, and the fireman stoked that much more to get up steam. Graeme also pointed out that they used wood each morning to heat up the box before it was filled with coal, and they needed to resupply, so they unhooked the rest of the train and let everyone wait, pulled up, backed into a siding to pick up an open lumber car full of firewood, pulled forward, then backed on to include this between us and the passengers. It was all great fun.

I stayed in the cab to the end of Graeme’s run at Lakeside. Menzies Creek, where I got in the cab, to Lakeside is 8 km or 31% of the whole distance, which means I rode in the cab for about 1/3 of the entire trip to Gembrook.

Everyone I told this story to told me how lucky I was, since even Puffing Billy volunteers I mentioned it to don’t often get asked to ride in the cab during a run. Later, on the Indian Pacific, when I told rail enthusiasts this story, a frequent pleased response was: good ON ya!

After a while in Lakeside, the later train pulled in, with far fewer passengers, and I found a nice closed compartment to ride the final 11 km (44% of the trip) to Gembrook. It turned out to be a very simple town nowadays, just some buildings along a main street, but I’d emailed the Puffing Billy people in advance and got a recommendation of where to have lunch, Charlotte’s on Main. I’d checked its website, and it described itself as a place with “country hospitality on the edge of the city” and with “old world feel”. It also said it had a “wood fire for cold days”, so that sounded like the place for me. It was everything it had said it was, and was really the pride of Gembrook. Inside a wooden building was a cozy dining room that actually a good number of the few Gembrook passengers had discovered, and there was a roaring fire in a wood stove. I had a great tomato soup and focaccia sandwich, and enjoyed my stay. I then caught the return trip to Belgrave, walked back along the blue line and Through the Looking Glass to the modern world, and got the suburban train from the modern Belgrave station around the City Loop to Southern Cross. All together, my “Billy day” round trip took about 8.5 hours, but the ride in the cab was a definite highlight of the Australia trip. Hopefully, this rather good YouTube video will give an idea of several Puffing Billy trains.

A couple of hours later, I caught the Melbourne/Sydney XTP to Sydney. Just as on the trip to Brisbane, I was lucky not to have gotten a roommate, and had the compartment to myself without paying double for sole use. The XTP uses the standard gauge track thrust into Victoria from New South Wales, but by the time we went through Albury, I was already asleep, so I couldn’t peek out at the platform, but I still did think of Mark Twain. During the night, the train also passed through Wagga Wagga (2010/12 “Names”). I had several hours layover in Sydney Central waiting for the Indian Pacific, so I finished up some writing.

Indian Pacific   The Indian Pacific (IP), shown here at Sydney Central (Photo by Frederick Sawyer), can vary in length, and was long enough on this trip, 28 cars, that it had pulled in separated into two sections, at two platforms, which were joined together again on departure. As it turns out, the IP is treated for staffing purposes as two trips, broken in Adelaide, so, although by chance, much of the crew out of Sydney was the same as had been on the Ghan, beyond Adelaide to Perth there was a different crew. The cars were the same or similar as on the Ghan, as was the restaurant and lounge. The toilets were still the antiquated fold-down type. One fortuitous change was that, inside the closet door in the compartment, right above the built-in tie rack, was a U-shaped, built-in hat rack, so The Hat had a home of its own. Otherwise, welcome once again to the vagaries of Great Southern Rail (GSR).

The lack of amenities was a frequent topic. Was that moi bringing up the topic regularly, including the superior service on the Sunlander, Queenslander Class? Perhaps it was. But then I found out something very interesting. I was speaking to three ladies about things found elsewhere but not on GSR, such as (1) the lack of morning or afternoon high tea where appropriate, (2) simple munchies on tables in the lounge, (3) the lack of biscuits at the coffee and tea stations at the end of the sleeping cars, (4) the charge for shuttle busses from outlying rail stations into town instead of free shuttles, and things of that nature. I was then surprised when these three ladies pointed out they’d been on the Ghan just last year, in April 2009, and had had all those things included, if not more. That showed me that GSR is not just being obtuse, it has willfully cut back on things it knows belong to an otherwise upscale service and is saving money to our detriment. We are not getting the same quality trips this year as were given in the past. That’s why I continue to categorize both the Ghan and IP as “good”, but the Sunlander (QLer Cl) as superior.

[While the above is a strong issue of substance, there is one other matter whose inaccuracy would irritate any rail enthusiast who knows how much railroad terminology has influenced English. GSR calls these tours you have to pay for “Whistle Stop Tours”, and it doesn’t seem to know what the term really means, nor how ironic their use of it is.

Railroad metaphors come up regularly. Someone who doesn’t vary his thinking has a “one-track mind”. Someone who gets easily diverted to other matters gets “sidetracked”. In order to get yourself started, you need to “get up steam”. If you’re upset, you need to “blow off steam”. Before automatic signaling, visual clues were given by a ball on a flagpole that had different meanings, depending on how high or low it was. If it was at the top, the train was “highballed”, meaning full speed ahead. Today you can highball along the highway. Among this grouping belongs “whistle stop”, which signified such an insignificant location that trains would stop only if a whistle signal came from the station. At one time, US Presidents would make speeches from backs of trains called “whistle stop tours” showing that they “cared” even about the voters in small, unimportant places. Doesn’t GSR realize that by using the term “whistle stop tour” as a “cute, railroady-type” reference they themselves are saying, whether true or not, that the tours are unimportant, and go to trivial places? Shouldn’t they know better? And GSR is supposed to be a promoter of rail?]

As a point of interest, GSR seems to be initiating a new service, the Southern Spirit, between Adelaide and Brisbane, but skipping Sydney. This planned service duplicates the route of the Overland, Adelaide to Melbourne, starts out duplicating the XPT from Melbourne via Albury and Wagga Wagga, but then keeps west of the Blue Mountains (thus avoiding Sydney and Newcastle) and only later swings east to the coast to then duplicate the XPT north to Brisbane. There must be a good reason why they avoid Sydney here, since this new service would otherwise join up with the IP. Curiously, my suggestion for Aussie high-speed also connects Adelaide via Melbourne--but including Canberra and Sydney--to Brisbane.

Life on the IP is same old, same old, since you’re still dealing with the defective GSR business plan. Out of curiosity, I asked if I could interview the train manager on this first leg, Ian, since he was the first male train manager I’d come across in a while. He was nice enough to stop by my cabin and we chatted. It turns out it was his very first time as train manager (although he’d trained as second-in-command), since Deb, the train manager I’d met on the Ghan, had called in sick for this trip. Ian referred to me as a journalist, although I told him things were not on that high a level.

The IP takes one night to Adelaide, then two nights to Perth. Although we left Sydney at 2:55 in the afternoon, and my second dinner sitting wasn’t until 8, I didn’t expect afternoon tea and GSR didn’t disappoint me. As on the Ghan, just before dinner there was a welcome reception in the lounge with a--one--glass of champagne, and what do you suppose they put out on each table in the lounge to munch on along with the champagne? You’re absolutely right, nothing at all. See, you’re getting used to the GSR business plan, bare-bones that it’s become. I’ve never heard of or attended a welcome reception before without at least some peanuts or pretzels, not on Cunard, other ships, or other quality trains.

BROKEN HILL Early the first morning, before breakfast, we were in Broken Hill at the western end of NSW, just before SA, in NSW’s slender part of the Outback. Broken Hill has more in common with Adelaide than with Sydney, which is why this strip of NSW is not on Eastern Time, but Central Time. Broken Hill dates from 1883 when silver was found there, and uses the sobriquet “Silver City”. GSR had only one tour here, which of course it charged for. The bus drove around the contemporary town, which included some period buildings, and ended up on top of a hill with mining equipment. It had been a mine shaft but will be restored as a museum piece. Many street names in Broken Hill are mineral-related, such as Chloride, Iodide, Sulphide, Beryl, Cobalt.

That afternoon we left the Outback for a bit and stopped for over three hours in Adelaide for a crew change as well as a passenger change to some extent. We’d had two engines out of Sydney to get us over some steep grades (1 in 30) in the Blue Mountains, but then left one engine in Adelaide. While most passengers either paid to take tours in Adelaide, or paid to get into town from Parklands Terminal (hello, GSR!), I stayed in my compartment and wrote. It’s nice to be among people, but occasional seclusion has its advantages, too.

COOK & THE NULLARBOR PLAIN The next day we were back in the Outback and entered the vast Nullarbor Plain, that stretches from SA well into WA. If the meaning of the name doesn’t pop out at you (look carefully), null- means “nothing” as in to null(ify) and Arbor Day celebrates trees, so the Nullarbor Plain is the No-Tree Plain. It’s striking that that is just the case, since there is spotty ground cover and small shrubs on the red soil, but virtually no trees. If a shrub stands a bit taller than the others, it really stands out from a distance.

The Nullarbor Plain also distinguishes itself by a major statistic. It encompasses the longest stretch of straight track in the world, from Ooldea to beyond Loongana, running 477 km (296 mi) and covering about 2/3 of the length of the plain. Note that we’d been informed that, because of recent heavy rains, the Nullarbor would be MUCH greener than it sometimes is, which it was, as compared to how it looks in this video.

Toward the eastern end of the plain is the virtual ghost town of Cook, founded in 1917. It once was thriving and is now tiny and close to abandoned. It’s one of world’s most isolated outposts, about 1100 km (684 mi) from Adelaide and 1500 km (932 mi) from Perth. The IP makes a short stop here in the middle of nowhere to take on water, so people have a chance to look around. It was a pleasant 18° (64° F) and I walked the few steps into town. Instead of the 19C wooden buildings one sees in US Western ghost towns, these abandoned buildings were of corrugated steel. There was also a filled-in swimming pool with grass growing on it. I then stood in front of the train to see down the length of straight track into the distance. A few hours later, we passed the border markers saying we were leaving SA and entering WA, my final Aussie state.

KALGOORLIE After sunset and after dinner, we stopped in Kalgoorlie (and its amalgamated twin city of Boulder). In contrast to the silver of Broken Hill, gold was found here in 1893, and the ensuing gold rush transformed WA. The area between the two cities is called the “golden mile”, and is the richest square mile of gold-bearing earth in the world. We had a night tour of the rather attractive historic storefronts and hotels of the town, which has an original look, with wrought-iron balconies and broad streets designed to be wide enough to turn a camel train. Herbert Hoover, the mining engineer and later US president, worked here as a young man. Reminiscent of the Kimberly Diamond Mine tour in South Africa (2008/9; FREE on both the Blue Train and Rovos), we visited the still-operating Superpit here, which is 3 km by 1.5 km and 0.5 km deep and is the world’s biggest open-cut gold mine. It’s as deep as the Empire State Building is high. You could see row after row down below of some dozen terraces that are or were being worked. We then had our last night on the train before a 9:10 AM arrival in East Perth.

Perth & Fremantle   Here we are on the other side of the continent; Perth is 4405km (2731 mi) west of Sydney. Perth and Fremantle are twin cities, with Perth being the more famous. Fremantle was founded first, in 1828, at the mouth of the Swan River, at a time when New Holland had become the Swan River Colony, but before it became Western Australia. Then Perth was founded the next year, in 1829, 19 km (12 mi) upstream, on the north shore of a widening of the river now called Perth Water, a phrase that I particularly like. Fremantle has always served as the port for the region, and recently has become a major restaurant and entertainment centre/center.

The naming of Perth is another example, like Portland, of the younger overtaking the older. While Portland, Oregon is 9 times more populous than its namesake, Portland, Maine, Perth, Western Australia, Australia’s fourth largest city, is fully 40 times more populous than its namesake, Perth, Scotland. While WA is 1/3 of Australia, its population is only 2.1 million, and 75% of that lives in Perth.

The Perth metropolitan area is the most remote, most isolated, large city on earth. The closest city with over a million population is Adelaide, but that’s 2700 km (1700 mi) away. Perth is geographically closer to Dili (East Timor), Singapore, and Jakarta (Indonesia) than to the east-coast cities of Brisbane, Sydney, and Melbourne. It has made use of this isolation. Perth became known as the “city of light” around the world when house and street lights were lit when astronaut John Glenn passed overhead while orbiting the earth in 1962 and again in 1998. The illumination made isolated Perth distinguishable from outer space.

I now understand why the Indian Pacific terminates at the very pleasant East Perth Station rather then three short local stops away at the modern Perth Central, since busy (and modern) Central really couldn’t accommodate the extra standard-gauge platform. I took the local train the three stops and walked 1-2 blocks to my hotel, then went back to the station and bought a return ticket to Fremantle, a half-hour away.

Fremantle, (locally: Freo) is the restaurant and “fun” neighborhood of the region, something like Saint Kilda in Melbourne. While still a working port, it has a great deal of restored 19C architecture and other historic buildings. I took the free loop bus that all Australian cities now have to get a feeling for outlying places, but then concentrated in the center. I started at the Fremantle Markets (1897), which is listed by the National Trust. It runs only weekends, and is cozier and more compact than those in other cities, making it a fun place. Various products (opals, honey, figurines) were for sale up front, and further back were the fruits and vegetables, which many free samples. I bought a currywurst, the first I’d had since in Berlin years ago.

From the Market and up to the High Street Mall, South Terrace blends easily into Market Street, and this restaurant stretch is known as the “Cappuccino Strip”, another turn of phrase I like. The area also hosts buskers and other street performers, which gives an idea of the “fun” atmosphere. I have to tell about the bagpiper performing right near the Market. You already have the wrong image in your mind, so erase it. Picture a tall, husky man with a shaved head except for a strip of spiked, BRIGHT orange hair down the middle. He’s wearing black leather, a sleeveless tunic and kilt, along with heavy, black workman’s boots. I think even the bagpipes were black. Then erase thoughts of what his music sounded like, because he was playing what I can only describe as rock bagpipes. You had to be there to understand, but, even though I’m not a rock fan, he was really pretty good, which you could see by the size of the enthusiastic crowd. That’s Freo for you.

Back in Perth, I walked around town to soak up atmosphere. There are two street malls, the usual historic buildings, and parks. Of particular interest is the modern carillon down by the Swan River, known as the Swan Bells. The carillon is all glass, with copper “wings”.

I’d been looking forward to my Perth hotel for a year because of its uniqueness. It’s the Miss Maud Swedish Hotel, founded by a Maud Edmiston some years ago, who still keeps an eye on things, and full of awards on the wall, including a decoration for her from the king of Sweden. With Beverly’s Swedish background, a smörgåsbord has always been a family affair with us. I remember enjoying them at the homes of Swedish relatives, Minnesota relatives, and I remember the two of us putting on at least two for family and friends years ago. The Miss Maud includes a smörgåsbord breakfast every morning, and the night of my arrival, I had their dinner one, with musical entertainment. The restaurant has its own corner street entrance, and the hotel is entered a little further along. The building dates from 1911, and in stone above (remember Launceston) is the name The Derward, so I’m assuming it was built as a hotel. The lift/elevator is a classic. It’s the type where you manually slide open the door, then slide open the cab door, then wait for both to slide closed before pressing your floor. The lift alone was real fun.

Margaret River   No organized tour covered just what I wanted to do in the Margaret River region, so I’d planned for Perth my second car rental in Australia. Since it would be a long drive for the one-day trip, I got an early start and picked up the car when Hertz opened its doors at 8:00, and off I was zooming south on the freeway. Sit-right/drive left as I said is easily acquired with an automatic car, and freeway driving was no problem, except you needed great concentration getting on or off at a cloverleaf. Just picture going around a cloverleaf opposite to what you’re used to, and you’ll understand. Unfortunately, I still turned on the wipers about 1/3 of the time I wanted to use the turn signals. This happens almost exclusively when you wanted to make a quick decision, when normal reflexes prevail.

It was a gorgeous, fresh Sunday morning all the way down. The yellow wattle (acacia) was out, backed by all that greenery and red earth. Also, the freeway had been extended further than what I’d expected, and, entering this hammerhead-shaped, stubby corner of Australia, I made it all the way straight down to Cape Leeuwin (near Augusta) in about 3.5 hours (315 km [196 mi]). Let me point out on the map that Busselton is on Geographe Bay extending out to Cape Naturaliste, and Augusta is on Flinders Bay stretching out to Cape Leeuwin. The two capes are included in Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park. My only momentary stop along the way was to look at and note the actual river in Margaret River, actually a rather small stream, and to look at the town, which is essentially appears as a strip of shops, restaurants, and hotels along the main road.

CAPE LEEUWIN I find capes and other end-of-land locations to be fascinating. Two favourites/favorites are Land’s End, England’s southwesternmost point, and Cabo São Vicente, the southwesternmost point of both Portugal and the European continent. Cape Leeuwin happens to be the southwesternmost point of Australia, which is a coincidence, because I like it just as much because of the Dutch history of the ship Leeuwin and Matthew Flinders’ involvement (2010/10), because it’s an end point, because two oceans blend there, and because it’s close to the antipodes of New York. Put it this way: there’s no place on earth further distant that a traveller/traveler can go to than the antipodes of where he lives.

Driving from the village of Augusta to the cape takes just a few moments, and all along the way, peeks of Flinders Bay to the left through the shrubbery give you tastes of what’s up ahead; then finally you drive across the narrow isthmus and see the lighthouse up ahead. And it’s just that narrow isthmus that Flinders discovered, proving that the cape was not on an island, but attached to the mainland. The isthmus is also an impressive way to approach both the cape and the 1895-6 lighthouse, which is still operational and which is the tallest lighthouse in mainland Australia. (This picture is a side view from the Indian Ocean side, with the Southern Ocean in the distance.)

I did not go up into the lighthouse; I’ve climbed many, including the Montauk Point Lighthouse on Long Island, which I’ll report about later this year. But the views from around the base were spectacular. I particularly enjoyed, on a distance marker, the fact that it’s 5435 km (3377 mi) due south to Antarctica. You can descend closer to the water just south of the lighthouse to a boardwalk and viewing area, but many people, including moi, slipped through the wooden fence around the boardwalk and walked out onto the rock area. Unlike other seacliff areas, which have many, chaotic boulders that are difficult to maneuver, this was a rather flat, single outcropping of rock, and we were able to get quite close to the breakers, to the point where you could smell the salt spray in the air. And once again, I recalled the admonition posted at Peggy’s Cove in Nova Scotia, which I often like to quote: Savour the Sea, which even has the Canadian spelling appropriate to Australia. This is a short video taken from the top of the lighthouse which shows the same view from above that I had from below. At 0:24 you will see the flat rock outcropping extending from the boardwalk area that many of us went out on to in order to Savour the Sea right at the water’s edge.

BORANUP WOODS DRIVE From the cape I started back north with other sights and activities on the way. I had heard that there was an impressive forest of towering karri trees, the third tallest in the world, near Boranup (which is near the appropriately named Karridale on the above map), and enjoyed a drive in the Boranup Woods. The trees had been logged in the 20C, and it’s the regrowth that’s there now.

LEEUWIN ESTATE In the Margaret River area, you can stop and taste cheeses, olive oil, chocolate and more, but primarily you go to taste wine from grapes you can see growing in the vineyards. The first vineyards appeared only four decades ago, and now there are about 100 wineries. The produce only 3% of Australian wines, but 20% of the premium wines. I chose to visit the Leeuwin Estate, since they were one of the founders of the region, are arguably the best-known, and for me, carry that magical word “Leeuwin” in their name. I had printed out Google maps of the back roads in the area to places I wanted to go, so I turned left at Witchcliffe on the map and used back roads to the Leeuwin Estate. The grounds were beautiful and rather vast. At the winery they offered a printed list of ten wines for complimentary sampling, and suggested you follow them in order, from sparkling, to white, to red. I don’t like wasting wine into the dump bucket, and didn’t want too much, since I was driving, so I asked for small samples. It was an enjoyable visit.

BUSSELTON JETTY I also wanted to see Cape Naturaliste and its view of Geographe Bay, but the experience wasn’t as good as I’d expected. This cape is on a high plateau, and you can’t see the water close in. Besides, you can’t get up to the lighthouse without a tour, and I can’t imagine the water view from a bit higher would be any better given the lay of the land. Instead I drove to Busselton (on the map), which was on the return route anyway, where, from the bayside park I had a perfect view of the late afternoon sun over Cape Naturaliste.

However, I was going to stop anyway in Busselton to see the Busselton Jetty, the longest wooden jetty (pier) in the southern hemisphere, at 1.841 km (1.1 mi). A little museum explained its 19C maritime use, including the extension of a rail line out to sea. Today it’s just a tourist attraction (sic transit . . .) and anyway, it was closed for repairs beyond the little buildings housing the museum. Still it was a good viewing site for the approaching sunset over Geographe Bay.

All in all, with careful advance planning, I got to see and do everything I wanted to do in just one day, which meant driving 702 km (436 mi) total in 11+ hours, although much of that distance was speedy highway driving getting to the area and back.

Last Day in Australia   I had a late flight out, and had a relaxing last day in Perth. I worked in the hotel room until noon, left my bag, and just decided to bum around. Perth has not one, but three free bus loops, called CATs (Central Area Transit), so I rode them all, just to get more of a feeling for the city. The Blue CAT went north and south, and the Yellow CAT took in eastern and western neighborhoods. At a layover at a park, I got out to walk around, and found a couple picking berries from two huge bushes in the park. I asked and they said that the mulberries were gradually ripening (red=unripe, black=ripe), and they gave me a couple to taste. They were sweet, but a bit tart, and looked to me like elongated blackberries (I’d only heard of them in the nursery rhyme “Here we go round the mulberry bush”). The Red CAT took me near King’s Park (1872), so I took a short stroll in the largest inner-city park in the world, larger than New York’s Central Park. It’s on a hilly slope on the west side of Perth and offers great views of the city and of Perth Water. Picking up the car to return it to the airport, I found that the late afternoon drive also started out near some idyllic parkland along the Swan River. And at 22:30 I started crossing the Indian Ocean northwest to Dubai.