The Great Trains

A line is length without breadth.
— Euclid

Episode

Out in the bay, a dolphin soared from the water, flirted its tail, and crashed back. A gull sneered at me from a nearby bollard. The edge of the pier was rough and hard, but I didn't mind. It would take much more than bruises and splinters to spoil my mood.

I perched above the water in the late afternoon, breathing iodine air and feeling the breeze rub the top of my head. The breeze felt warmer than the air: I suspected a case of sunburn.

Monkey Mia, on the third evening of my stay. Spectacular sunsets, friendly dolphins, no responsibilities, and I’d left the winter behind in Melbourne. Who could ask for more? It was one of those moments of complete bliss that occur on every trip. I was where I wanted to be, when I wanted to be there, with nothing to do but to let my dinner digest.

The dolphin jumped again, glistening amber in the sunset. It was closer now. A catamaran crossed the horizon behind it, sail flapping in the breeze. Black triangle against coral sky, on wine-dark sea.

Over at the canteeen, dinner was in full swing. Down the beach, couples wandered hand in hand through the gathering dusk. A few hopeful dolphin-feeders still stood knee-deep in the shallows beside the pier. Pelicans gathered behind them, confident of receiving the leftovers.

The dolphin came closer. It wasn’t jumping now: its progress was an ellipsis of breaches. But the central dot didn’t line up. I was puzzled for a moment, until two curving backs broke the surface simultaneously. Not a dolphin, then. Two dolphins.

Much of my trip so far had been just like that: long periods of gliding along swiftly, unseen, then a brief breaking to the surface to breathe and look around. At Melbourne I had boarded the Overland train, to reappear next morning in Adelaide. In the evening I had boarded the Indian Pacific train, reappearing briefly at Cook and Kalgoorlie the next day, getting off at Perth the day after that. That evening a Greyhound bus swallowed me, spitting me up the next morning in Monkey Mia.

Put another way, I had spent an aggregate 2.6 of the first 3.5 days of my trip moving, but this is perhaps too bald. I didn’t really count the two train trips as movement: they were sightseeing. Their objective was the journey, not the destination. If I’d simply wanted to get from Melbourne to Perth, a plane would have been much faster — and cheaper. Since I slept in a bed on the train (Gold Kangaroo single, a room to myself) it was more like staying in a hotel that moved.

Despite which, the three days at Monkey Mia felt like the real start of the trip. I could finally set my own timetable, kick back and do nothing if I chose. I even shook off the allergy that had gripped my sinuses on the Overland and forced me to seek a chemist in Perth.

The dolphins were very close now. I could hear them sneeze each time they surfaced. I’d lost track of them when my eyes had strayed to the horizon during my reverie.

I focused on the dolphins, admiring the sleek bodies as they played, not twenty metres from me. Mother and calf? But they were the same size. Two bachelors, then.

They didn’t go near the people waiting in the water off the beach. Not hungry, just kicking back and enjoying the evening. Like me. I grinned. “Hi, guys,” I said companionably. They ignored me.

The people on the beach probably couldn’t even see them against the dark northern horizon. It was a private dolphin show, just for me. Well, me and the couple that now wandered up and sat down further along the pier, talking. I smiled at them, wishing they’d wander away and take their gabber with them.

After the big-city bustle of Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth, reaching Monkey Mia was like reaching the edge of the world. Perth was far, far to the south. I’d been there. East, a huge, sun-blasted desert, with a bloody big rock lost in it. Been there, too. North were small, scattered towns and a lot of empty landscape. My next destination. West, beyond the horizon and the descending sun, was only thousands of kilometres of ocean, all the way to the shores of Africa. Someday I’d go there.

For now it was enough just to be here. The land was mostly harsh, dry and inhospitable, but Monkey Mia itself was green and well supplied with palm trees, and opened onto broad Shark Bay, whose waters were set off perfectly by the desert around it. I’d watched three sunsets here, and each had been unique and breathtaking and accompanied by dolphins.

The sun hit the water beyond the hills and was quenched. The colour drained from the sky. With a final wheeze and a pirouette, the dolphins headed out into the bay. The day was over. My time at Monkey Mia was nearly over. By the time the sun leaped from the desert tomorrow morning, I would be hundreds of kilometres on my way, headed for Exmouth.

But I’d take with me the memory of this red-golden evening on the edge of the world, with dolphins dancing in the sunset. And someday when I’m old and poor and miserable and trapped in some dump with no hope of escape, I’ll take the memory out and polish it, and sigh for the good old days; and for a few happy minutes I’ll bask in its warmth. In the end, only memories remain, but if they’re the right memories, that’s enough.

Calendar and Itinerary

Calendar for the trip — August 2001

Itinerary and timeline for the trip, all times local. The table has a certain appealing arrogance to it, pretending at times to a 5-minute accuracy; in practice, it is essentially a fantasy. However, it does set events in an easy-to-follow order with an approximate indication of lapsed time.

This report has been significantly reworked and expanded from the original version I created in 2001 and updated in 2004. Either my iPaq, or the version of JournalPro that I was using on it, had a bug. Every so often it would corrupt the journal file. The only solution was to grit my teeth and restore from backup. This happened three times during the trip. Although I never lost more than a couple of days work, retyping all the lost entries was not something I felt up to while in the midst of travel, and once I started slipping, I never quite caught up. So the first half of the report was fairly comprehensive, but then it degenerated into brief notes and even the occasional blank day. I was never able to get it into proper shape, and now I have forgotten so much detail that I probably never will. However, where I have photos and other sources of info to work from and hang my remaining memories on, I have filled the blank spaces with at least the gist of what happened each day. The only way to add more detail now would be to crib tourist bumf from the web, which I’m not inclined to do.

On the Overland

Stepping Out

Thursday, 2nd August 2001

I stepped out through my doorway at 19:57 and celebrated by taking the now-traditional shot of my luggage (travel pack and Discovery Channel bag) sitting on the doorstep. The start of a new trip is always a moment I wish to prolong, and by taking a photo of my luggage I can relive the moment as often as I please whenever I please, simply by looking at the photo.

This was my last trip using an APS film camera. In April 2002, I made the switch to digital, which made the whole process of recording a trip simpler and cheaper and provided instant feedback on what I had seen.

When I hefted my brand new wheelie-bag-cum-travel pack, I discovered that the stitching of the attachments of the shoulder straps was weak — the left one tore a bit. I wore the pack to East Richmond Station, but carried or wheeled it after that. I resolved to find time to repair it before Perth, and to strengthen both straps as well.

Usually my trips start with a taxi ride to the airport, but this time I was leaving Melbourne by train, and appropriately enough, the most convenient way to get to my departure point, Spencer Street Station, was by train. I live a ten-minute walk from East Richmond Station, and any train stopping there also stops at Spencer St.

Forty minutes from home, I was sitting in the coffee area at Spencer St, typing up my diary. The Overland was due to leave Platform 1 at 21:30, boarding from 21:10. I had my luggage and my ticket, my butt was screwed on, and I was pepped with the usual pre-trip adrenalin.

This was not the big thing that had been 2000’s US trip, and it wasn’t yet 2002’s magnificent European trip, but any vacation away was still a Big Thing, and this one was into new territory. By avoiding Darwin and Uluru, I was not even going over any significant ground I’d covered in 1989.

The Overland

Just after 21:00, I was on the platform taking a photo of the train. Then I climbed aboard.

The railway company had recently changed its categories. First Class was now “Gold Kangaroo”, Coach and twin sleeper was now “Red Kangaroo”. I was taking this trip because their introductory deal for the new setup was 20% off fares. $999 got me Gold Kangaroo from Melbourne to Perth on the Overland and Indian Pacific services. Although it was double the cost of a return air ticket to Perth, this actually was a good deal for the train journey. Australia’s great passenger trains were already boutique services, not commuter services, and their prices reflected this. Most people going between Perth and the east flew.

Car M Berth 7 was the smallest — most compact — “hotel” room that I had ever looked forward to sleeping in. The sleeper compartments were set back to back. When in “day” mode the seats looked alternately forward and back. Which way you got to look was mainly the luck of the draw, as a berth that looked forward on one passage would generally look back the next. My berth looked back. It was also grossly overheated. I hate sleeping in overheated rooms.

I had brought a new toy with me for this trip, a Compaq iPaq 3650, a Pocket PC with wi-fi but no phone functionality. I was using it to record and track my thoughts, expenditures and itineraries, replacing a cruder PDA that had greatly simplified my 2000 trip. The iPaq proved itself invaluable on this journey, and I never again started a trip without my current iPaq as a travelling companion — until 2014, when I switched to a phone-and-tablet combo (or even just a phone, if travelling light).

I was looking forward to recharging the iPaq overnight, but apparently the promised power was prone to surges. Surge protectors recommended, and I didn’t bring one!

The train was laid out with Gold Kangaroo at the front and Red behind. In Gold, the twin sleepers came first, then the single, then the Kookaburra (dining) Car. After that came the first Coach car, from the look of it. There were 11 cars in all. There was a locked door at the end of the Kookaburra Car to keep the Red Class hoi polloi where they belonged.

At 21:31 the train started off, so smoothly that I didn’t notice the moment. Now that the crowd of last minute boarders had cleared the passage outside my door, I went back to the Kookaburra Car to take in the ambience.

As we rolled out through Melbourne’s western suburbs, I sat at a small table with a complimentary champagne in front of me, watching the lights slide away. It reminded me of the first time I ever saw Mebourne, in June 1981, coming in from Adelaide by train. The same darkness, the same array of lights. Inviting, mysterious, full of the promise of adventure in a new, unexplored city.

But 1981 was on a grungy, cold, rattly commuter service. The Overland was sleek by comparison, rolling as if the rails were oiled. And Melbourne, no longer mysterious, lay behind me, not ahead.

By 22:15 I was back in my berth with the door closed and the light out, watching the last lights of Melbourne dwindle on the horizon — a line of varicoloured sparks.

With me I had my dinner: a small steak & mushroom pie, too hot and dried out, $3.30, or 50% more than the much more palatable pies available at shops with competition. To provide the meal with some romance, I left the cabin lights off and ate the pie by the light from the iPaq.

Dinner I had to buy, which is why I ate cheaply, but breakfast was included in the fare and would be served from 05:30 till 06:30. A disgustingly early awakening, especially as I wanted to make sure that I got a chance at the shower before the morning rush hit it!

It was sublime to lie in bed and rock and rumble across the night land. As we travelled, we passed occasional “street” lights, apparently posted in the middle of nowhere. The night was cloudy but not as dark as expected.

We rolled through a corridor of trees and coasted to a stop … somewhere. The train creaked to itself, seemingly asking why it was stopping. And now, the answer: a drawn out clackity rumble — a freight train, I guessed, as it was too long for another passenger train — passing the other way.

It passed. With a groan and a jerk, we moved on, past more trees, gradually gathering way and starting to rock and rumble again.

Thankfully, it was much cooler now than it was earlier. I lay there, absorbing the alien room. Every so often I saw a tiny red light blink on the smoke detector attached to the ceiling.

Pneumatic pressure forced me up. Using the toilet was tricky with the bed down. Go before, or in the morning, or else put the bed up. I wondered where the waste went — on the tracks? Probably; the instructions said not to use the loos while in the station.

Later I figured out the “street lights”: they marked level crossings.

Friday, 3rd August 2001

I jerked briefly awake at 03:36 near Bordertown, in pea soup fog. My sleep after that was fitful.

But! I managed to get both shower and breakfast; by 6:14 I was tucking into toast, croissant, scrambled eggs, tomato, orange juice, coffee.

Later I had a bad moment when I thought my wallet, with my bank cards and ANZ ID, had disappeared; but after a frantic few minutes I found it in the safe place I’d put it last night. I transferred the vital items, except the Access (ATM) card, to my neck bank.

Adelaide

I did a lot of walking in Adelaide, yet only saw part of the city centre. Fortunately I hadn’t actually laid down an itinerary for today, as I suspected I might want to take advantage of the Friday shops to pick up forgotten items. Thus most of my time was spent walking round CBD shopping malls and strips

I tracked down a surge protector so that I could recharge the iPaq on the train without fear. This was my first trip with an iPaq, and it repeatedly proved its utility. Smartphones were still in their infancy in 2001, and fatally compromised by the necessity for them to work as phones; my Pocket PC had no phone capability at all, just wi-fi, but did everything I needed from journalling to spreadseets to web browsing. In fact, I created local HTML menus for each trip from 2001 to 2008 to make it easy to bring together my research on each place I went. (I was also carrying a separate mobile phone for emergencies.)

I bought a CD copy of Jethro Tull’s album Minstrel in the Gallery. I had seen a copy in New York in 2000, but for reasons I can’t recall I didn’t buy it, and I’d had no luck finding it in Melbourne. This time I didn’t hesitate! I was also carrying a CD player, so my new acquisition was immediately pressed into service. The next year I substituted a Sony minidisc player, then when storage capacities caught up, an MP3 player.

Since I also spent several pleasant hours in the Museum and Art Gallery, I guess I can’t call today a dead loss. I picked up the usual clutter of brochures to use in setting up an agenda for the return leg.

I felt rocky all day. I was not sure whether that was a result of last night’s rocking, lack of sleep, the chest cold, something else, or a combination of any or all of these. With luck I would sleep well tonight.

I was back at the station by 16:00, and at 18:30 the train pulled out of the station, almost as smoothly as had the Overland last night. I settled back in Gold Kangaroo Car M, Berth 3 and dozed off to sleep.

On the Indian Pacific

The Indian Pacific

Saturday, 4th August 2001

08:37 Broken sleep again, but once I realised that I could use a towel to warm my throat, I actually got a few hours. I was still tired but not dead on my feet.

My new car was ARJ243C — wish I’d thought to note the number of my Overland car. Berth 3 was perhaps a little bigger than the one on the Overlander, and not as hot. But the air conditioning was noisy and the room had a number of annoying rattles.

The train stopped briefly at Watson, 40 km south of Maralinga, but there wasn’t much to see. This had been the Maralinga nuclear testing control centre, back in the 60’s. I made a note that I took a picture, but if so the camera must have misfired.

Cook

I finished the repairs to the shoulder strap of the pack just as we pulled into Cook, about 10:00. I wasn’t sure my stitching would hold, but there was also a rivet holding the strap, so I was hopeful the stitches and the rivet would reinforce each other.

Cook, named after former Prime Minister Sir Joseph Cook, was the only place on the Nullarbor Plain where passengers could get down from the train. The town once had a swimming pool; that was now full of dirt. Royal Flying Doctor aircraft landed on the dirt airstrip on the edge of town. The former Cook hospital ("If you’re Crook Come to Cook. Our Hospital needs your Help Get Sick!") was now the Cook Weather Station. The population, once 200, was now 2.

I walked south far enough to get to something that was too rubbish-strewn to be natural Nullarbor, but looked pretty much the same, and souvenired a small thumb of rock. I presumed it to be limestone, but for all I know it could be concrete! I liked the small grey pebbles in it and it was a perfect miniature of the other rocks around it, which were too big to make good souvenirs.

The train pulled out at 10:29. We were supposed to switch to WA time after Cook, but they decided to wait until just before Kalgoorlie. Reason not stated. It was going to be a long stretch from dinner to breakfast, and they’d just ruined their timetable.

Around noon, I snapped a shot of the marker for the SA/WA border. The train was still on SA time, but for me it was now 10:30 again, WA time. After that and the "Welcome to Western Australia" sign, I have a photo of what appears to be an aircraft hanger, probably Forrest, which would be around an hour and 45 minutes later.

Kalgoorlie

I took a bus tour of Kalgoorlie-Boulder. Overheated bus, very cold night — by next morning my cold responded by making a grab for my nose.

The open pit mine was impressive, in an understated way — everything looked small and toylike, with a toy ditch digger and Tonka trucks, until I saw someone beside one of the trucks. He didn’t even reach the axle.

I took a photo of a bronze statue come drinking fountain of a local somebody. Turned out to be a replica; the original was safely stashed elsewhere. Many years after my visit, some twat knocked the head off it. Drama ensued until the head was recovered and welded back on.

The landscape was well lit as we moved on. Full moon according to CityTime, but I couldn’t see it as my window faced south.

In Western Australia

Perth

Sunday, 5th August 2001

By 08:44 we were rolling through farmland outside Perth. A few minutes later, we were in suburbs.

The IP pulled in on time at East Perth Station and I caught a train ($1.10, my first silly fare of the day as I should have bought an all day ticket) into Perth. I dragged my bag — too miserable to carry it — to the Greyhound office and checked it for the day. Then I went off to the two main shopping malls. After some walking, I found a pharmacy and bought some Sudafed and some tissues.

With the aid of these I felt armed to take on some limited sightseeing. Athough a river tour to Fremantle had been suggested, I decided not to risk that. Instead I took the train. $7.10 for an all-day ticket — I paid too much, as two $2.70 tickets would have done the same job, but right now I didn’t feel up to coping with that much attention to detail.

In Fremantle, I took a sight-seeing 'tram' (rubber wheels and an internal combustion engine; no rails) for $8 and used it to scout the sights for the ones most interesting to me, and to get to places I didn't have the “go” to walk to today, such as the war memorial.

I spent the biggest slice of my day — from noon till about 15:30 — on a couple of tours of the Old Fremantle Prison. Compared to Alcatraz, which I’d seen in San Francisco in 2000, it was a cheerful place, with murals on the walls, grassy yards, and a glass floor at one point to reveal the foundations of older structures beneath the current buildings. It also had some grim spots, such as the maximum security cells and the gallows — the latter conveniently still equipped with a noose.

After that, I looked around the octagonal “Round” house prison/fort and the Maritime Museum, all of which kept me happy till 17:00, when I headed off to find a train back to Perth.

I had a charmless dinner (thanks to my stuffed nose) in a café in Hay St Mall. Back at the station, I Found a shower, just off the main concourse. Showered and changed, with my nose unstuffed by the hot water and my stuff repacked using space offered by the foldaway day pack, my day was not over yet, but it was looking brighter.

I checked a printout of my bus sector bookings against my calendar and they matched. Another worry I could now drop.

Despite being given cause to be thoroughly miserable by my hosing nose, I had made shift to salvage a reasonable day from the wreck. It had been a good day, financially, and I achieved my limited sightseeing objectives. Can’t ask for much more than that.

Just after 21:00, the Overlander bus pulled out, taking me with it. Comforted by an antihistamine pill I popped just before boarding, I dozed off.

Shark Bay

Monday, 6th August 2001

At a rest stop somewhere in the early hours, my nose started bleeding and even after the worst was contained, it continued seeping. This was going to make eating breakfast tricky!

We pulled into the Overlander Road House about 06:10. Breakfast was Bacon, eggs, sausages, and coffee, and my nose did indeed make eating it tricky. An hour later I was on the bus to Monkey Mia.

Monkey Mia

I arrived before my caravan was ready, but the dolphins were in, so one minor fantasy came true. When planning this trip, I was taken with the idea of booking in then immediately heading down to the beach to see the dolphins.

I had taken another anti-histamine on the bus and for now my nose had stopped bleeding, though still running a bit from the cold. The sunlight wasn’t painful on my eyes unless I actually sat in the sunshine. I was starting to suspect that the nose had almost no connection with the cold. My nose ran for a lot of last year’s trip. It seemed more likely I had an allergy to changes of climate.

Shotover cruises

I took the afternoon Shotover cruise and the free sunset cruise that came with the package. Despite a ferocious wind chill, they comprised a splendid experience.

The afternoon cruise was targeted for dugong spotting, although they didn’t turn down anything interesting that offered itself. We spotted a dolphin grazing for shellfish, and some people saw a loggerhead turtle — but I didn’t see that. We also found about half a dozen dugongs, one by one.

Offering the sunset cruise as a free extra to the afternoon cruise was a nice gesture, but it quickly became obvious that the sunset cruise, however much the passengers might enjoy it, existed mainly as an opportunity for the crew to let their hair down and put their boat through its paces.

Dinner was garlic bread, snapper, chocolate pudding, and a carafe of moselle. The prices were not remotely in my budget, but I wanted to top off the day in style. To say that it went as scripted would be untrue, as it had many sour notes — from dozing off and almost missing the afternoon cruise, to a potentially disastrous nosebleed just before the sunset cruise. But looking back, these actually were just grace notes to an almost perfect day. Their presence only highlighted exactly how well the day went in all other ways.

Looking back, it throws an interesting light on the notion of “the good old days”. While this day was unfolding, it did not seem so perfect. That’s because I didn’t know how it would turn out. It could still have turned to shit. But now it was over and it all turned out well, the negatives faded and the positives stood forth.

Tuesday, 7th August 2001

“The dryer quest”. The resort had an interesting ratio of dryers to washers: perhaps a dozen washers versus two or three dryers. What’s more, a washer cycle took 25 minutes and a dryer took 45 minutes. Clearly the expectation was that most people would hang their washing out. This looked fine in theory, but was a philosophy that failed dismally in practice. Who has time for that?

Stromatolites and Shell Beach

My clothes were almost dry before the Stromatolites tour bus arrived. We passed a church made of shells. Saw Eagle Bluff. Saw the grave of Walter Musk, who drowned in 1911. After a rather long walk to reach them, saw the Stromatolites, which looked like slimy rocks but were much more interesting. Had a hearty lunch at the Hamelin tea rooms. Then we headed to Shell Beach, which looked like an ordinary white sand beach until you stepped on it. It was actually made up of billions of tiny but recognisable white shells, about a centimetre across; the Fragum cockle, which thrives in this hyper-saline area.

I finished my day by walking the “Discovery trail” (now apparently called the “Wulyibidi Yaninyina Trail”). Walked back along the beach and arrived at the point near the resort just on sundown. In the red light, it was like the sandbank at the end of time in The Time Machine, and I decided to take a photo — with my Discovery bag in the role of the betenticled football. So I perched it on the bank, walked back, framed the scene — and a seagull landed beside the bag!

Tonight was census night. Like a good citizen I sat down and counted myself. Yep, there was still only one of me. I completed the form accordingly.

The pearl fishers

Wednesday, 8th August 2001

For my last day at Monkey Mia I had an excursion to Cape Peron pencilled in, but that was always subject to something more interesting. The day trip to Peron cost $89, and I decided that was a bit expensive for what it offered, and a bit long considering I wanted free afternoon time to trim my baggage while getting packed.

Instead, for $22 I went out to look at the pearl farm. Actually, I spent $152, as while I was out there I bought a nice little spud-shaped seedless pearl twined in gold wire for $130. I decided not to count the pearl in my budget ... [I no longer have the pearl; I gave it to a friend in Egypt in 2006.] The pearl was from the Montebello Islands up the coast (off Karratha).

As a freebie with the pearl, I also got a half-shell with a half-pearl on it. It was a bit messy with extra pearl around the neck, which I assume is why it wasn’t harvested, or perhaps the oyster died before the pearl was ready. Either way it made a unique and lovely souvenir!

Before the pearl trip I had a good session of dolphin watching, sitting on the jetty using the binoculars. There were at least four dolphins being fed, which with CALM’s feeding policy implies some eight dolphins counting the calves.

This is undoubtedly the best weather I’ve encountered to date — light breezes, cloudless, but not too hot. It was tempting to take on a morning cruise in one of the cats, but I decided to let that go. Those were for my first day here and there was little reason other than gluttony to repeat the experience so soon.

Sitting on the dock of the bay

16:47 The repacking is well in hand and I have identified several items that will be sent home from Exmouth, or at least Broome (on the 14th).

I’m typing this while sitting on the grass in the shade of some palms, between the restaurant and the dolphin feeding area. I’m listening to “The Songs of Distant Earth” on my headphones and watching the cats glide serenely across the lightly textured water. Shotover set sail twenty minutes ago, and Aristocat has just gone to join her. People are walking, sitting, sunbathing, kayaking, sipping drinks and coffee, and generally enjoying the slow decline of the sun.

Citytime says sunset should be at 18:03. This is a good opportunity to check how well it copes with a user entered location rather than the built in ones that come with WinCE.

19:41 Forgot to check the exact time but it was close enough.

What a perfect evening! Sitting on the end of a rickety wooden jetty, good music, mild breezes, sails on the watery horizon, copper sunset, and dolphins playing at my feet! Monkey Mia couldn’t have said “goodbye” in a nicer way.

I’ve eaten, prepared breakfast (sandwiches), showered, and started the laundry. The Overlander is due to depart at 04:30. Once the laundry is dry and the packing done (except for the sleeping bag, obviously) I’ll set multiple alarms for 03:45 and go to bed. Hopefully I’ll wake up when I need to!

Tomorrow I cross the Tropic of Capricorn for the third time on the ground — last year’s crossings on my flights to and from the USA are a separate category.

Exmouth

Thursday, 9th August 2001

This was a long, dreary journey. Timed to depart at 04:30, the bus to the Overlander Roadhouse was 15 minutes late. It was so full that at Denham, the driver crowded five people into the aisle. It is pleasant on occasion to have a pretty young woman leaning against your knee, but in this case it was so cramped as be simply uncomfortable. However, the delay didn’t matter in the end as the Exmouth bound bus, due to leave Overlander at 06:30, didn’t come through till 07:48

This bus was fortunately not crowded, although I wound up sitting almost at the back — seat 11d. The driver promptly put a video on. Since it looked tedious and because I was so far back, I ignored it, using my headphones to block the noise.

My next concern was my accommodation at Exmouth. I couldn’t do anything about that while on the bus, so for the next six hours my only concern was to keep myself amused. The only thing to look forward to was crossing the Tropic of Capricorn about 30 minutes (45 km) north of Minilya Roadhouse on the Minilya-Exmouth road.

At 13:50, when we were supposedly due into Exmouth, we were still on the road, but we eventually got there, and by 18:00 my Exmouth time was all arranged — a safari trek tomorrow 08:00-18:00, humpback watching Saturday 13:00-17:00.

My double room turned out to be on one end of a cabin that I shared with an English couple who had the double room at the other end. It was a very nice cabin.

Dinner was fish & chips with veg and coffee at an outdoors eatery, the Rock Cod Cafe.

Backpackers Safari

Friday, 10th August 2001

Today I took the Backpackers safari. Cost me $82.50 (normally $95). Charles Knife Rd (hike), Shothole Canyon (hike), Yardie Creek (hike), Turquiose Bay (snorkel), Vlaming Head Lighthouse (whales — saw none). Loved every minute of it. We were a mixed lot — three guys, five girls; two Swiss, a Dane, a Finn, a Japanese. I was probably the oldest person by a fair bit.

The hikes gave me an opportunity to try out my new boots in the field, and they came through. They were not, however, immune to shin-deep water that sloshed over their tops, and once wet their insides showed no haste about drying even in the afternoon sun. I’ll have to remember to keep water out if possible.

Dinner at the Golden Orchid Chinese Restaurant of beef curry, small steamed rice and apple juice, felt expensive for what I got. Exmouth was not cheap!

Whale watching off Exmouth

Saturday, 11th August 2001

My day was filled with packing, booking out, a last look around Exmouth, a picnic lunch on the beach (a dirty, rocky mess), some whale watching, and a long wait for the bus.

The whale watching was cold, wet, boring in places, but we saw some humpbacks and I enjoyed the boat ride. On top of that, I met a German girl who seemed to have a lot of the same attitudes. Actually she was a friend of the English couple I shared my cabin with, and I’d seen her before, but there’s a difference between casually meeting someone cute and perky and seeing that same person under stress. I was impressed — but I couldn’t even remember her name! I hoped to meet up with her again in Broome, but nothing came of it. After Broome our paths diverged.

That evening I hopped on the 22:55 bus to Giralia Turnoff, where I hoped to connect with the 01:45 Broome service.

Sunday, 12th August 2001

The bus from Exmouth to Giralia Turn Off was an interesting experience due to the number of roos on the road. We also drove past a bushfire that accounted for the smoke I saw the whole time I was there. It was basically a flaming front a few hundred metres long, burning slowly towards the hills. It was still on the coast side of the road, so in a day or so some lucky travellers would get a bonus when the fire crossed the road.

Giralia’s wildlife and wildfire aside, the rest of this ride was simply long and boring. It was muggy hot outside the bus and there was no scenery worth mentioning.

Broome

We were due to arrive in Broome at 18:20 and I have no record suggesting we were late. We had a good sunset, at least. By 19:30 I was in Broome, booked into the Last Resort, had done my shopping, and now I was waiting for my fish & chips dinner.

To date the “YHA” hostels had not exactly been what I expected. I had not been asked to show my card or sleeping sheet anywhere. Monkey Mia was understandable — it was primarily a resort with a backpackers tacked on and loosely affiliated with YHA. Exmouth I could be twisted a bit as it too was a backpackers in a resort and they did provide special deals for YHA members. But Last Resort, which was a pure YHA hostel, looked and acted more like a backpackers. They did observe some of the sillier YHA things, but the showers & toilets were shockingly filthy.

Logged into Yahoo and emailed a trip update.

Cable Beach

Monday, 13th August 2001

Starting from Cable Beach at 09:30 I walked down to Gantheaume Point. The beach was so wide at low tide that it created the illusion that the point was closer than it really was. From the part of the beach nearest the bus stop to the point is about 7 km — and 5 km to the start of the cliffs. Then the same back.

The part of the bea — [entry lost after this point due to corruption of the journal file; I corrected the issue around 18:15 while back in town waiting for the movies. I have reconstructed the lost entries as best I can.]

The part of the beach nearest town, between the life saving flags, was tourist territory, dotted with parasols-for-hire. I considered heading towards the distant lighthouse, but decided to round the point to the north instead; there was supposed to be a nude beach somewhere on the other side.

If so, it was a long way off. I scanned carefully and could see nothing encouraging. So I turned back and walked down to the lighthouse.

I eventually got there, after crossing some pretty unpleasant rocks, and found the famous dinosaur footprints. The skeletal lighthouse itself was modern and boring. I did find an old chimney sticking out of the scrub in the middle of the carpark, apparently all that was left of the old lighthouse keeper’s cottage.

Before noon I decided to dodge the rocks and walk back along the point road. This was a mistake; the road was dirt and sand, and I was not carrying nearly enough water. Fortunately an hour’s baking was not quite enough to finish addling my brain, and my next photo was of the Chinese Cemetery in town.

Sun Cinema: 18:30, Dr Dolittle 2; 20:30, Shrek. I was in two minds. In the end, given my expenditure for a day where I bought no souvenirs, I may have watched both. I didn’t have the energy or the brain cells left for anything more, uh, energetic.

Exploring Broome

Tuesday, 14th August 2001

I spent Tuesday morning wandering around. I found some statues of Japanese pearling pioneers, some preserved pearling luggers, and a museum. In the afternoon I went to a crocodile park, then said goodbye to Cable Beach.

At 19:15 I boarded a bus for an overnight run north to Turkey Creek.

Turkey Creek

Wednesday, 15th August 2001

At 06:50 we pulled in on time at Turkey Creek Roadhouse, where I quickly found both a shower and breakfast. Then I waited for my 3-day Purnululu tour group to arrive from Kununurra. They were due around 08:30. I was just beginning to worry when I noticed that a white 4WD emblazoned “Kimberley Adventure Tours” had quietly parked nearby.

Introductions and a second breakfast were in order, after which we set off into the hills.

Purnululu

We drove south and had lunch, then walked up Piccaninny Creek into Cathedral Gorge. Later we watched the sunset.

We probably stopped at Walardi Camp for the night. We slept in swags, not tents, which was a novel experience for me and proved surprisingly uncomfortable — too warm, and no air circulation beyond my face without opening it far enough to allow mosquitoes to get in. The nights were humid and warm, and I’d have been better off in a light sleeping sheet inside a self-supported netting with a waterproof floor. Note to self for any future rough camping in the north.

Thursday, 16th August 2001

We started the day with a helicopter flight over the Bungles for those who’d paid for one (I had), then the group walked into Echidna Chasm, an incredibly deep and narrow crack in the rocks. We also covered Frog Hollow and Mini Palms. Tonight I discovered that the camp had a shower. I needed it, badly!

And then … I discovered that my Journal was corrupt — again. Everything I’d written since the last backup in Turkey Creek was gone. Grar. This time I lost a lot of detail that I had jotted down as we walked and that I already could not now reconstruct. I jotted down the main events thus:

15/08/01
0650 Turkey Creek - shower $2, food.
0830 KAT 4WD.
1200 Lunch.
1300 Cathedral Gorge.
1730 Sunset.

16/08/01
Echidna Chasm
Frog hollow
Mini Palms
Shower.
Discovered Journal was corrupt.

Friday, 17th August 2001

I was so discouraged by the journal corruption that I made no entries at all on the 17th. We weren’t following the itinerary that had been provided. I later labelled one photo from the 17th “Frog Hollow”, even though we saw that on the 16th. Did we go back there? Dunno. So …

For our last day, I can’t recollect where we went. We saw some aboriginal rock paintings. Then we said farewell to Purnululu and headed for Kununurra.

Kununurra

We arrived in Kununurra around 19:30. I watched the sunset near a massive-trunked boab tree by the side of the road. Boabs are long-lived, so the tree is likely still there. All I need to find in Street View is a massive boab on the west side of the road, with some dictinctive hills behind it; but I’ve been unable to locate the spot. There are massive boabs scattered all along the highway leading into town, the oldest Google imagery only goes back to 2008, and every attempt to run along the 2008 road soon drops the view back into 2018 or the present. If I ever find it, I’ll update this.

Saturday, 18th August 2001

I spent Saturday morning wandering Mirima National Park, which was adjacent to the town. After Purnululu it was mild, but at least I was able to see it at my own pace. I climbed high to get the views, and poked into nooks and crannies. There was an insect census going on; I kept encountering plastic jars hanging from trees.

Saturday afternoon was a Lake Kununurra/Ord Rier Cruise. As a counterpoint to my 1989 Yellow River cruise and my upcoming visit to Katherine Gorge, it made a fine impression. Lake Argyle, the largest lake in Western Australia, is the result of the 1971 Ord River Dam. Wikipedia has an amusing observation:

The original plan was for dam water to irrigate rice crop for export to China.[7] However these plans were scuppered as waterfowl, particularly magpie geese ate rice shoots more quickly than they could be planted. Other crops are now grown, but Lake Argyle still remains Australia’s most under-utilised lake.

The farmer’s loss is tourist’s gain. It is crammed with birds and other wildlife, including freshwater crocs. After the Ord and crossing a section of Lake Kununurra, we pushed up a creek before returning to the lake. That night I watched another sunset, this one across the Ord River.

Sunday, 19th August 2001

The daily GX629 bus service was scheduled to leave the Kununurra Tourist Information Centre about 10:10 WA time; I made a note to set my watch to 11:40, SA time, as soon as I boarded.

In the Northern Territory

Katherine

We stopped at Timber Creek Roadhouse about 14:30, Victoria River Roadhouse about 15:40, and I stepped down in Katherine at BP Travel North about 17:50.

I had a minor quest here. In 1989, my one Katherine photo was of a white-painted wall with a yellow map of the Northern Territory; the business behind the wall was Jade Cafe. I wanted to find that spot. As it happened, my quest was quickly consummated: the very wall faced me as I stepped down from the bus at the BP station. It was still white, but it no longer held the map. Jade Cafe was still there. It has since becom,e first Captain Jack's Fish and Chipper, and then Bawang Filipino Food & Catering. So that was settled.

However, because the map was missing from the wall, I didn't find it immediately. My first focus was accommodation, my second was food. Palm Court Backpackers YHA, about 10 minutes down Giles Street, provided one; Tommo's Fish & Chips provided the second. I'm not sure where Tommo's was, but somewhere in Giles Street. It included a massive wad of chips, so much so that I couldn't finish them. Once I found the 1989 location, I gave all the remaining chips to some local aborigines who asked for them.

Monday, 20th August 2001

Today I did the “8-hour safari” up Katherine Gorge. British tourists Alwyn & Lesley from my Bungles group were on the same tour. We travelled up to the 5th Gorge in large flat-bottomed tourist barges.

At each gorge we had to disembark and walk to the next one, then get into another barge. We walked most of the 4th gorge, where I believe we went up to look at aboriginal rock paintings, then had morning tea and a swim at a campsite there. After that we went up to the end of the 5th gorge before returning to camp to have lunch. After lunch and another swim we returned to town.

Looking at my photos, it is usually possible to tell the upstream direction because any trees in the piture lean in the direction of the wet season floods. However, this was the dry season and the water was almost still. We saw only two crocs, sprawled on fallen trees, in the lower gorge as we were returning to the dock at the Visitors Centre. In the gorge, a number of the small sandy beaches had signs warning people from walking there due to crocodile egg clutches.

I took a couple of short walks around the Visitor Centre after the tour while waiting for the bus back to town. On one I got a nice picture of a kangaroo watching me with a well-grown joey in her pouch. I also saw fruit bats hanging in the trees, but hey, I could see that in Melbourne!

I had dinner in the Mekong Restaurant. “Beef curry, red & hot. And me thinking just a while ago that if I avoid sweating I will be able to wear this t-shirt again tomorrow! Guess I’ve blown that one.”

Alice Springs

Tuesday, 21st August 2001

This was a lousy day healthwise — migraine & constipation, followed by migraine & diarrhea. Not a pleasant combination. Nevertheless, I took my prepaid Ansett flight TL154 to Alice Springs. Departure 9:10, arrival 12:00. The flight was routine but there was a lot of prop noise, which didn’t help my head.

When I got to the hostel in Alice, the office was closed: “Back at 12:30”. Fortunately I only had to wait about 10 minutes — but then another 30 minutes while my room was made up. On the bright side, when I looked out my room window, I found myself looking at a sleeping kangaroo!

I resisted the migraine, dosed up heavily on aspirin, and went out to look the town over. All I saw of Alice in 1989 was car headlights in Heavitree Gap. This time I crossed the dry Todd River on foot and climbed Anzac Hill. From there I could see across town and south to Heavitree Gap. A convenient signpost told me it was 4,278 km to Wellington, and 15,749 km to Chicago.

From the hill I walked down to the “Cultural precinct”, where I found a museum with bird skeletons and anoter with the 1929 wreck of the Kookaburra. It didn’t actually crash, but crash-landed in the Tanami Desert, and although the two-man crew repaired it, they were unable to clear a take-off strip before perishing of thirst. The bodies were soon recovered, but the plane was left to rot. Half a century of storm and fire wrecked it before it was finally recovered in 1978 and brought to Alice.

I finished the day at the cemetery, where I found Lasseter’s and Namatjira’s graves. Lewis Harold Bell Lasseter is famous for his gold reef,and Albert Namatjira was a famous aboriginal artist.

Kings Canyon

Wednesday, 22nd August 2001

Kings Canyon 2 Day Tour Including Western MacDonnell Ranges

Tour Code: DW 44

Itinerary for Winterknell:

Pick up from Ossie’s Homestead 0605 – 0620

Day 01: Depart Alice Springs and travel to Erldunda Station then join your smaller Desert Wanderer vehicle for an exciting tour of Australia’s largest Canyon - Kings Canyon. Visit the Resort, enjoy a guided walk around the Canyon rim. Overnight Kings Canyon Resort with 3 levels of accommodation available.

Day 02: A morning at leisure at Kings Canyon for optional sightseeing, helicopter rides or relaxing. Join your Desert Wanderer 4WD vehicle for an exciting journey along the Mereenie Track through Tyler’s Pass, see Gosse Bluff, Glen Helen Resort and Ellery Creek Big Hole. Arrive Alice Springs approximately 6.30 pm.

Departs: 7.00 am: Tue, Wed, Thu, Fri & Sat
Alice Springs hotel/caravan park pick ups prior on request

Fares: per person (incl GST)

	twin share	triple share	single supp:
Tent:	$260.00	N/A	$20.00
Lodge:	$330.00	$280.00	$85.00
Resort:	$395.00	$340.00	$150.00

Note: Meals by own arrangement unless stated.
Modified summer season operations occur November to March.
Itineraries and fares quoted are valid 01/04/01 to 31/03/02.

The day was going according to plan until the Desert Wanderer tour guide mentioned that there weren’t enough bookings for the Mereenie Loop section. This cast a blight on the day until this evening the [rest of entry lost due to corruption — yet again.]

My plan was to take a 2-day tour south to Kings Canyon and back to Alice via the Mereenie Loop. The first part worked out OK, I got my coach & 4WD ride to Kings Canyon, and walked over and around the Canyon. Kings Canyon isn’t the hole in the ground the name implies, it’s a U-shaped range of hills, with the Canyon sandwiched between them. You walk the hilltops. My camera ran out halfway round as I'd left my pack with spare film on the bus, but it was a great morning’s sightseeing anyway.

The catch came when my 4WD return Mereemie Loop was cancelled due to insufficient bookings. The operator was lackadaisical about it. All they could offer was that they'd keep an eye out for me and maybe another tour might pick me up. I'm not sure when they told me they had found a replacement service, but it's likely that's the event I was discussing in the last entry that survived the corruption.

Mereemie Loop

Thursday, 23rd August 2001

I wasted away the morning in Kings Creek. Alas, almost everything including the camel rides was aimed at couples and families. Soloists must either pay a supplement, which was usually enough to put the cost higher than I was willing to pay, or miss out.

I finally got my camel ride, and it was free because I helped raise an anæthsetised camel back to her knees — but that was about the high point of the morning.

I wanted to do a helicopter ride over the Canyon — $165 per person, minimum two people. But there was only one of me. I wanted to do a quad bike station tour — from $45 per person, minimum two people. I wasn’t any more numerous.

As a result the morning saw me idly kicking up the dust while orbiting slowly around the area, hoping for the chance to make up a pair or a trio on a copter flight. The only offer was 3rd head on a $30 flight, which I turned down as only the expensive flight went where I want to go.

The whole Kings Canyon thing was a fizzle and a schemozzle for the solo traveller. The people running things were fixated on couples and tours/families to the exclusion of all else. They would accept money — plus a “singles supplement” — from the soloist, but they were not set up to deliver value for money to soloists.

But then my replacement Mereemie Loop tour arrived — an Australian Pacific Tours coach, not a 4WD, dmanit — and just after lunch, I escaped the Wildlife Centre.

Viewing from the coach was inferior to my promised 4WD, but the tour was fun anyway

My photos for the trip stopped at Ellery Creek Big Hole, at the end of a roll. I can’t remember why; it’s possible there’s an undeveloped roll somewhere, but I probably just ran out of film. I would have had the chance to buy more in Alice the next morning, but it seems I didn’t. I was feeling incredibly discouraged after my shitty experience on the Kings and Loop circuit.

That evening, I was back in Alice. I was also well and truly ready to go home.

On the Ghan

The Ghan

Friday, 24th August 2001

The morning in Alice left no trace in my memory. I think I just kicked around Ossie's. By 15:48 I was on The Ghan. Red Kangaroo, Car R, Seat 32.

And just like that, although I still had a train ride and a plane ride left, it was over. I was washed out. I’d done every major thing I set out to do, and most of the minor ones. My travel mostly went off like clockwork, with yesterday’s hiccup over who would carry me back along Mereenie Loop being the biggest hitch — a jog so minor it would hardly be noticed in the average trip. Yet I was possessed by a profound weariness of the spirit. I just wanted it to be over.

I have no memory of the Ghan ride. There was not much to see while the sun was up, and nothing to see after dark. I sat and read and may have gone back over my notes and tried to patch up corrupted journal entries, but I made no new entry till the next morning. I must have eaten dinner, but I don’t recall that either.

Saturday 25th August 2001

I woke an hour out from Adelaide, and it was raining — welcome back to winter!

I had managed very little sleep. Sitting up, I was finally able to understand why: the tracks were wonky and the carriage experienced irregular, abrupt shaking from side to side.

Stepping In

The Ghan arrived in Adelaide at 8:45. I had the morning free and I’m pretty sure I used it, but I have no photos, and did nothing that I recall. Somehow I killed the whole day without leaving an impression. I hadn't booked a hostel room, so I must (there's that word again) have just kicked around Adelaide. I have unplaced memories of exploring the green belt that surrounds the city centre, so it’s possible that's what I did.

About 18:20 my $66 Virgin Blue plane took off from Adelaide. It arrived in Melbourne about 20:00. By 21:30 I was home and it was all over for another year.

It was an unsatisfactory and sad ending for a trip that had begun so hopefully and mostly worked out as planned!

— — — The End — — —

For years I thought this report was complete, but when I came to edit it into a single file, I discovered that everything from Alice to Adelaide was still just journal notes. I had taken the last few entries and pasted them into an empty html file, twiddled with the finale hours, and then gone away and never read it all the way through until now. So this is the first complete version of this trip report ever published.