On Board Down Under: Australia's Indian Pacific Train ~ continued Article by Cherie Thiessen
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In the meanwhile, outside our window the Avon valley undulates.
“Canadians are so friendly,” comments our first luncheon companion an hour later, an ex-army
man from Perth traveling with his youngest daughter. “It’s not that we’re so friendly”, I
counter. “It’s you Aussies who are so friendly. What’s a reserved Canadian going to do when
met with a big smile and a friendly, ‘How ya going?’
Next, we start in on politics, helped by another glass of verdehlo, a wine
worth discovering: spicy and fragrant, it turns out to be a deceptive little
siren; its pleasant light taste concealing its punch. It slipped down like silk
alongside the sea trout with hollandaise sauce and asparagus, and even
stayed for dessert. If you don’t think a pudding made of bananas and
macadamia nuts warmed with a caramel sauce is worth the calories, you’d
be wrong.
We finish coffee and politics as the valley terrain falls away to flat wheat
fields and eventually to mallee scrub, an environment found only ‘down
under’, comprised of stunted looking mallee trees, a type of eucalpyt,
sheltering small plants swarmed by bees in the flowering season. Our
companion points out the beehives we hadn’t noticed before and tells us
much of Australia’s wonderful honey comes from here, interrupting to
point: “Those roos are everywhere. Damn pests.” “Where, where?” I
follow his finger. “Just gone behind them rocks.” I feign nonchalance.
Back in our compartment, eyes drilling through the window, I spot a white
cloud in a yew tree that suddenly explodes as snow white birds shoot
away from the train. As they wheel and turn they reveal bright peach
colored breasts. It was my first glimpse of a widespread and noisy bird, we
never tired of looking at - the pink Galah cockatoo.
The afternoon was spent in roo watching and listening to our own sound
system: poetry, history, songs, stories, interviews, natural history and local
music all helped to set the stage, entertaining while educating.
Soon a friendly voice is inviting us to the lounge car for a glass of bubbly,
an information session, and a meet and greet.

We sit alongside Sarah and Kevin. This is their first trip. Kevin has just
landed a job working on one of the oilrigs, now becoming a common sight
in resource-rich, booming Perth. Her one concern, Sarah tells me, is the city’
s remoteness. (It’s actually 2000 km. away from any other major Australian
city.)
“There’s a roo”, Kevin interrupts. I turn to look, but there’s someone in the
way and by the time I shift, we’ve scooted past. “Never mind, you’ll see
lots. They’re everywhere.”
The sun is down by the time we return from dinner. No point roo watching now. With the time
change, our first stop won’t be until nearly midnight, at the gold mining town of Kalgoorlie,
where we’ve booked a ‘whistle stop’ tour. Sure enough, close to midnight we’re blearily awoken,
escorted into a bus and soon swept up into the night and the wind to stare at the immense
Super Pit, 3.6 km long and 512 meters deep and still operating 24/7.
The town itself, with a current population near 30,000, is near what many describe as the
‘richest square mile on earth’ – the Golden Mile. Unlike most of the world’s gold mines, the Super
Pit and surrounding mines are still producing gold a century later, as well as other minerals like
nickel, and are the town’s major employers. At midnight, however, shivering and slapped by
wind-driven debris, I can’t get enthused over the isolated town’s prosperity. Perhaps tomorrow,
visiting heritage buildings in the sun? But the Indian Pacific has other ideas and is soon
transporting us once again across the outback. I fall aside dreaming of huge, dark maws and
monster trucks swallowing miners.