Go East! Perth to Adelaide Aboard the Indian Pacific

I was hosted aboard the Indian Pacific by Great Southern Rail.

On Sunday 13 November I boarded the Indian Pacific train in Perth.

It wasn't the first time I'd ridden this intercontinental train which connects Perth with Sydney; in fact I'd arrived in Western Australia aboard it just two weeks before.

However, this was the first time I'd ever taken this epic rail journey in the eastward direction. On all three previous occasions I'd started in Sydney.

I was interested to see what it would be like this time, starting in the sunny west and travelling eastward as far as Adelaide, where I'd disembark for a few days' stay.

The journey started at East Perth Terminal. This was way less atmospheric an embarkation point than Sydney Central, a busy and beautiful old terminus serving all types of trains and travellers.

The platforms at Perth Station in the CBD are too short, unfortunately, for the mammoth Indian Pacific (28 carriages on this occasion). So East Perth Terminal it was, and the train looked impressive as I crossed the footbridge over the rails:

As passengers registered there was a buzz in the air, a sense of embarking on a long and distinctive journey. The Indian Pacific is no afternoon jaunt; it covers almost 4400 kilometres in the three days it takes to travel between Perth and Sydney.

My compartment was a model of neat efficiency and thoughtful design, with sufficient storage space and an en suite bathroom with shower:

As we had a 10am departure, lunch was served fairly soon after we had pulled out and were passing through the Avon Valley to the east of the city. I had a quick cocktail in the bar, then stepped through to the restaurant car:

I spent the afternoon mostly in my compartment, wrestling with a complex book about the JFK assassination and taking relief by looking at the wheatbelt views passing outside the window.

We arrived in the Outback gold mining town of Kalgoorlie after dinner at 9pm, then joined a bus tour which took us through the quiet Sunday night streets to an observation post above the huge Super Pit gold mine, which operates 24 hours a day:

This was followed by port in enamel mugs as we sat and watched a short theatre piece about Paddy Hannan, the Irishman who found gold here in 1893 and started a gold rush:

At 6am on Monday we arrived at Rawlinna, now a ghost town adjacent to the vast Rawlinna Station, Australia's largest sheep farm covering a million hectares. We disembarked to have breakfast at trestle tables between the empty old post office building and the train.

It was a very atmospheric experience to eat outdoors in the middle of nowhere; the train staff did a great job in catering for the masses from the onboard galleys.

Later that day we entered the Nullarbor Plain, the world's largest stretch of exposed limestone bedrock and a flat empty space void of trees.

I intended to go back to my compartment and read, but the desert was so mesmerising I stayed in the bar, chatting to fellow passengers and looking out the window.

After lunch we paused at Cook, another ghost town other than two inhabitants who help maintain the services used by trains and railway workers there.

While the Indian Pacific was having its water supplies refilled, passengers could wander round on a self-guided tour with the help of explanatory signage. Most evocative of all was the deserted school:

The rest of the day was more of the same, lots of desert until we finally re-entered the world of trees. Then it was time for bed, for the Indian Pacific was due into Adelaide just after 7am the next morning.

Then I was out onto the streets of Adelaide, returned to a world in which I had to make decisions and feed myself. Have to admit, I missed the self-contained linear paradise of the train.

The Indian Pacific runs weekly in each direction between Perth and Sydney. For timetables, fares and bookings, see Great Southern Rail's website.

Cacao & the Writer: My Chocolate-Coated Travel

In my work as a travel writer, there are recurring themes.

One of them, I realised the other day, is chocolate.

I was writing a chocolate-related travel article for a major publication, in this case related to London. As I typed, a reference to cacao reminded me that I'd seen a cacao pod in person in Borneo, when I'd visited Malaysia in 2009:

This got me thinking about other times that chocolate had featured in my travels.

In 2010, when Narrelle Harris and I were travelling through Hungary, we dropped into the classic Budapest cafe Gerbeaud. My order was a csokoládé kávé, coffee blended with hot chocolate, amaretto and whipped cream. Alongside it was a perfectly formed slice of Sachertorte:

In May last year I was introduced to great Middle Eastern chocolate, not something I'd been expecting after the terrible chocolate we used to endure when living in Egypt in the 1990s. These locally handmade beauties were on sale at the shopfront of Salma's, a chocolatier in Muscat, Oman:

Closer to home, in 2007 I visited Adelaide and went on a tour of Haigh's chocolate factory. This South Australian brand has several outlets in Melbourne, and it's hard to resist its dark chocolate peppermint frogs. This was the factory shop:

In 2012 I travelled to Quebec City, Canada for the first time and was delighted to discover the Érico chocolate shop and museum, whose exhibits including chocolate clothing:

On the other side of Canada in 2013, Narrelle and I visited an excellent chocolate maker and cafe in Gastown, called East Van Roasters:

And while travelling on the South Island of New Zealand in 2011, I stopped with some colleagues for lunch at She Chocolat, a chocolate-making business with a restaurant overlooking beautiful Governors Bay:

So what's the chocolate-related story I'm writing at the moment? Can't tell you... yet. Follow me on social media (see the links in the right-hand column) to find out when it's published.

I will reveal it has a historic context... and this is how it ends up:

Tasty.

South on The Ghan 2: Alice Springs to Adelaide

Last time I wrote about the first leg of my journey on The Ghan transcontinental train, from Darwin to Katherine. The journey continues below...

1. Interior Comforts. Time for some more shots of the train's interior, I think. Here's the Queen Adelaide dining car, followed by the Outback Explorer bar:

2. A Station Like Alice. The morning after we'd left Katherine, we arrived in Alice Springs. I'd last been here for the Alice Desert Festival (read about my experience here), but arrived by plane of course.

In the centre of Australia, this was the original terminus of The Ghan's route, which ran north from Adelaide. It wasn't until 2004 that the line was extended the additional 1500 kilometres to Darwin.

You can see a statue of one of the Afghan camel drivers who gave their name to the train here, at Alice Springs Station:

3. The Old Ghan. Although the railway linking Alice Springs and Adelaide dates from the 1920s, its route has changed over the years. Nowadays the standard gauge line runs a long way west of the original route, which was prone to flooding and other mishaps.

The original line is remembered at the National Road Transport Hall of Fame just outside Alice Springs, which incorporates the Old Ghan Train Railway Museum. Located on a stretch of track from the original rail route, the two museums hold an interesting mix of road and rail transport, including earlier Ghan rolling stock:

4. Empty Spaces. After we left Alice Springs, there were a lot of scenes like this out of my cabin window - flat empty desert with scrubby vegetation and distinctive red earth. At some point here we crossed the border into South Australia, but the scenery looked much the same:

5. Pichi Richi Diversion. About 9am Friday morning, some 66 hours after leaving Darwin, we arrived in Port Augusta. Here we left the train for an excursion on the Pichi Richi Railway, a tourist operation which runs original Ghan carriages over a section of the earlier route to the town of Quorn.

This isn't a usual side-trip for Ghan passengers. This edition of The Ghan was a special train commemorating Anzac Day, Australia and New Zealand's national war remembrance day, and supporting the Returned & Services League.

The Ghan played a huge role in transporting troops north during the dark days of World War II and the Japanese air attacks on Darwin and other northern settlements, hence the military connection. Those troops rode on the tracks which pass through Quorn, and I was told the Country Women's Association outpost near the station served a million meals to soldiers during the course of the conflict.

Here's a pic of the train in motion through the low dry hills leading to Quorn, and a shot of the engine at rest in the town:

6. Terminus. Finally, after nearly 3000 kilometres of rail and 74 hours since we left Darwin, we arrived in Adelaide, the capital of South Australia. And all without changing our watches, crossing a national border or producing a passport even once:

Disclosure time... On this trip I travelled courtesy of Great Southern Rail.

Aboard the Santa Train 1: Sydney to Adelaide

Happy New Year!

Those of you with decent memories may remember me taking the Indian Pacific train from Sydney to Perth two years (and about 100 blog posts) ago.

As you may recall, each year the train's operator Great Southern Rail lays on a special Outback Christmas train carrying a pop singer and Santa Claus.

Concerts are staged along the way, raising money for the Royal Flying Doctor Service.

The 2011 call came and I was invited aboard, this time in the company of the talented singer Jessica Mauboy (though I admit I had to look up who she was - my fault, not hers).

As I wrote a lot about the journey last time, this time I thought I'd share images from stops along the way, adding some comments.

1. Sydney (15:00, 7 Dec 2011)

The Indian Pacific is so long that it can't fit a single platform at Sydney's Central Station; it's split over two, then shunted together once everyone's aboard.

A few fast facts about our edition of the train:

• From Sydney to Perth, it would cover 4,352 kilometres;
• It contained 27 carriages;
• The entire train was a vast 639 metres long.

2. Near Bathurst (20:20, 7 Dec 2011)

As we were having dinner, the sun obligingly set in memorable fashion on my side of the restaurant carriage. It's not easy to take photos through glass, but this came out quite well:

3. Bathurst (20:40, 7 Dec 2011)

 

We were an hour late into Bathurst, so these kids had been putting in extra time entertaining the crowd gathered at the station for the free concert. A few speeches quickly delivered, then Jessica Mauboy hit the stage with her backing vocalist and two guitarists. 

The pattern was the same for each concert - Ms Mauboy would sing a few of her own songs, then the kids would join her in Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas is You. In this case, with choreographed hand movements.

4. Near Broken Hill (08:30, 8 Dec 2011)

I snapped this shot of the empty Queen Adelaide restaurant carriage just before breakfast. Elegant, isn't it?

Meals were a highlight of the journey; with an interesting gang of media from across the world aboard the train, it was good to mix up the seating regularly to meet someone new.

We were supposed to stop at Broken Hill before breakfast, for another concert and a coach tour around town. Unfortunately, track works on this section of the journey had so slowed the train that we were now running very late and Silver City had to be skipped to catch up time.

However, I later heard that Jess Mauboy had made a point of getting out briefly at the station to say hello to a few fans who'd hung on in the hope of meeting her. Whatta gal. 

5. Adelaide (17:30, 8 Dec 2011)

We pulled into Adelaide over two hours late, so there was little chance of travelling into the nearby city centre. The train was due to pull out again in an hour, hoping to get its schedule back on (ahem) track.

So I hung around the GSR facility at Adelaide Parklands Station to see the next concert. Despite the delay, there was a crowd of 100 or so to see the singer, and to listen to a moving story about how the Royal Flying Doctor Service flew a young man to Melbourne for an organ transplant.

6. Nearing the Great Victoria Desert, South Australia (06:30, 9 Dec 2011)

So far on the journey we'd passed through a variety of landscapes, both urban and bush. Now, back on schedule, we were entering the most fascinating landscape of the journey - desert, including the stark Nullarbor Plain.

This early morning snap from the train (note the Xmas decoration) is still mostly green, but the low scrub and red earth are a hint of what's soon to come...

Join me next week for song and tears on a treeless plain, lively downtown Cook (population 4), studiously cool stockmen, seriously underdressed barmaids, and a shining new ocean.

Disclosure time... on this trip I travelled courtesy of Great Southern Rail.

Indian Pacific 2: Adelaide to Watson

In which I continue the chronicle of my three-day journey from Sydney to Perth, via the mighty Indian Pacific transcontinental train...

Thursday 3 December 2009

3.45pm, Adelaide

After 25 hours on the rails, we arrive at Adelaide Parklands, the euphemistically renamed interstate rail terminal at Keswick, an industrial zone next to the green belt that rings the city’s centre.

I’ve been here before at the end of the Overland train journey from Melbourne’s spectacular Southern Cross Station, and it’s as much of an anticlimax when compared with the grandeur of Sydney Central.

Several of us lob onto a coach for a whistlestop tour of the city. The tour tracks around the edge of the urban core which was set within parks by Adelaide’s founders, allegedly for defensive purposes.

I say “allegedly” because our guide issues explanations which sometimes sound unlikely, and which I suspect might be urban myths. We pass by elegant stone mansions, parks, major landmarks such as the GPO and Town Hall, and the high-class residences of North Adelaide.

It’s all very well for an hour or so, but the tour drags on, we never get out of the coach, and the driver’s commentary becomes ever more eccentric until he’s telling us that the traffic lights have been fixed so motorists have to use more fuel while idling so the government can pocket extra fuel excise! We hard-bitten journos (OK, soft travel writers) roll our eyes particularly emphatically at this gem.

The food on the train is good - I had curried braised chicken for lunch - but the portions are relatively modest, so I buy a baguette and coffee at the terminal’s cafe on our release from the tour. For sheer weirdness you can’t beat a ham, cheese and pineapple baguette, so I order that. Remember, this is the city that gave us the pie floater - a guilty pleasure at any time.

6.40pm, on board

Heading north once more out of Adelaide. It’s worth noting that the city has quietly become the hub of Australian train travel. From Adelaide you can catch a regular train to four state or territory capitals: Perth, Melbourne, Darwin and Sydney. Only Sydney can beat this, with services to Perth, Adelaide, Brisbane, Melbourne and Canberra.

10pm, Port Augusta

We stop briefly in Port Augusta for servicing, and everyone’s allowed off for a bit of air on the platform while the train is rolled forward a short distance. It’s always refreshing to be out of the train, to realise there is a world out there that isn’t contained within a long steel tube, and it’s cool and quiet on the platform. Above us is a brilliant star field, with the intensity you only see far away from big city lights.

Friday 4 December

8am, Watson

This is totally different, our first truly desert experience. We’re standing in a stark, open space at the stopping place known as Watson. There’s nothing here to denote civilisation: no town, no platform, no man-made structures at all.

But there are galahs - two of them fly over the train just after we disembark - and people, plenty of them, gathered here to hear Shannon Noll sing and to meet Santa Claus. There are many Aboriginal kids who’ve been driven here from two schools hours away, and they smile at the swarming media as they wait for the stars in their school uniforms.

When Noll emerges, he takes his place on a low gravel mound alongside his two guitarists, completely unplugged, and belts out What About Me. Behind us is a lone tree that’s been festooned with streamers by people who’ve camped overnight, a rough and ready Bush Christmas tree. After he finishes, neatly placing his hat on one of the schoolkids’ heads, Santa climbs down from the train and is mobbed.

I can’t help smiling at the unlikeliness of it all - the long silver train, the wilderness we’re standing in, and its inhabitants and passengers mixing in the company of a pop idol and Father Christmas. It’s yet another impossibility summoned into existence by the Indian Pacific.

What lies further west? Is Cook the place I want to settle down? Who keeps the lawn at Rawlinna looking so nice? And is the desert heat really the reason that Kalgoorlie’s barmaids dress so minimalistically? All is revealed in the final Indian Pacific episode next week...

[read the first instalment (Sydney to Broken Hill) here]
[read the third instalment (Cook to Perth) here]

Disclosure time: On this trip I travelled courtesy of Great Southern Rail.

South Australia: Ready for its Close-up, Mr DeMille

A few weeks ago when I was at the cinema waiting for arthouse flick An Education to start, I caught the trailer for the new Scott Hicks/Clive Owen drama The Boys are Back.

It was one of those annoying trailers that feel like the five minute "marketer's cut", showing you a linear summary of the entire movie, but it did look good from a cinematographic point of view.

Turns out that despite its British star, the The Boys are Back was filmed in South Australia. Locations are mostly along the attractive Fleurieu Peninsula south of Adelaide, with scenes shot at places such as Aldinga Beach and Myponga Beach.

There are also scenes at Hahndorf in the Adelaide Hills, and at Dog Ridge Wines in the McLaren Vale wine region. City scenes take place in Adelaide, shot in the offices of The Advertiser newspaper, the Majestic Roof Garden Hotel, and at Gouger Street bar Sangria.

Interestingly, the South Australian Tourism Commission is one of the partners backing the film, and is using it as the basis of an international tourism promotion. It's not that long since Tourism Australia bankrolled a similar campaign in conjunction with Baz Luhrmann's Australia, producing mixed results, so it'll be interesting to see how well this one does in drawing visitors to SA.

Although I've been to South Australia a few times, I've never visited or written about any movie locations there. However, there have been stacks of films shot in South Australia over the years, sometimes standing in for other places.

Here are five of the more prominent:

Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975): Though most of the movie was filmed at the actual rock, the girls' school, Appleyard Hall, is in fact Martindale Hall in South Australia.

Storm Boy (1976): A popular family film when I was a kid, this movie featured a boy and his pelican in the coastal Coorong region.

Breaker Morant (1980): An array of South Australian locations stood in convincingly for South Africa in this courtroom drama taking place during the Boer War.

Rabbit-Proof Fence (2002): A movie with a Western Australian location which was mostly shot in SA, in diverse places from Lake Torrens to the Gibson Desert.

Wolf Creek (2005): Successful horror flick almost entirely filmed in the South Australian outback, though it includes some aerial shots of the actual Wolfe Creek crater in WA.

It's a bit too early to predict how The Boys are Back will fare in cinemas, as it's only just opened in Australia, but so far the reaction at IMDb seems good. And if it turns out to not be your cup of tea, you can at least soothe yourself by watching the pretty locations. Or if you're from South Australia, by playing the "Now where is that?" game.

COMPETITION: Courtesy of film distributor Hopscotch Films, I have ten double passes to give away to the Australian season of The Boys are Back. To score a double pass, send an email to tim@iwriter.com.au with the following info:

- Your full name and town/suburb;
- Your postal address for me to mail the pass to;
- A short paragraph about a movie location you've visited anywhere in the world and what it was like; or a movie location you'd like to visit and why.

The first ten complete entries will gain a double pass. Only entries with the above info will be eligible, and by entering you grant me the right to use the material for free, perpetually and non-exclusively, in a future blog post about travel to movie locations (but you will be credited!).

Unfortunately entry is only open to Australian residents - sorry about that. But if you'd like to send in a paragraph about your movie location experiences to be used in a future post anyway, please do.

That's it! The competition ends at midnight on Sunday 22 November, so enter now!

The Fins of Glenelg

Steven Spielberg has a lot to answer for. In directing the 1975 hit movie Jaws, he ensured a generation of kids couldn't take to the surf without worrying about a great white shark encounter.

But Spielberg was far from my mind when I travelled to Glenelg Beach on a hot Sunday in 2004 in Adelaide, South Australia.

I’m from Melbourne, and the prospect of enjoying a day at a real beach, and swimming in a real ocean, had me dizzy with anticipation.

Glenelg is a distinct and pleasant Adelaide experience (and also a palindrome). It was the place where the first British settlers landed in 1836, and aspired to be Adelaide’s main port. In the end, it settled for sustaining the role of a charming Victorian-era seaside town.

I had, of course, little idea of the adrenaline rush waiting beyond its shores.

The tide was out when I arrived, so it was a long way to deeper water. As I waded, I thought about my wife Narrelle’s aversion to sea bathing, attributable to the terrifying aquatic stylings of the aforementioned Hollywood director. I noted the reassuring presence of surf lifesavers, and their clearly visible flags.

As I got deeper, I regretted Narrelle not being here. If she came to Glenelg one day, I thought, I would point out the lifesavers, the flags, the clarity of the water. There would be no need for fear, and she would laugh off her girlish fears.

Then, chest-deep, I gazed out toward the horizon. About 20 metres away, a large fin cut suddenly out of the water, attached to the back of a sizeable sea creature. As quickly as it had arrived, it disappeared beneath the waves.

I froze. Then I looked around. No-one else was panicking, on the nearby jetty or in the sea around me. Everyone on the beach looked pretty relaxed. And, come to think of it, that fin had been elegantly curved, in the style as worn by dolphins. It must have been a dolphin. Surely.

Still, discretion beat valour and I trudged back to the sand as quickly as I could manage without looking like a coward. There were plenty of people between me and the mystery creature, after all - surely it would chew one of them first, and the jig would be up?

On the way, I asked a stout young lifesaver if they saw a lot of dolphins in these parts. He confirmed that they did, following the coastline. I laughed in a careless, knowing way, but I suspect it came out a bit thinly. Well, I had to know if the alarm should be raised, didn’t I?

It was a faintly embarrassing episode, but thank god Narrelle wasn’t there after all. It would’ve taken ten years off her life and put her off seawater forever.

So thanks a lot, Steven. Thanks to you, I’ve had a dose of that strange modern syndrome in which your life has no meaning until it feels like you're part of a Hollywood movie. Fish and chips, anyone?

On Platform 2: The 8.05 to Adelaide!

In 2007 I underwent a journey of discovery regarding interstate train travel in Australia. In March I took the overnight sleeper from Melbourne to Sydney; and in September I headed to Adelaide on Australia's oldest interstate (once intercolonial) train journey, the 828 kilometre Overland route, established in 1887. This is what it was like:

The early morning scene at Melbourne’s Southern Cross station is suitably atmospheric; there’s a chill in the air, and passengers are beginning to gather on platform 2 for the train.

The location is majestic, the great curves of the station roof undulating way above our heads. On the other platforms, scuffed V/Line trains are pulling in at regular intervals, disgorging tree-changers commuting to work from their country homes.

I feel that every great rail journey should begin early in the morning, just a little before you’d comfortably like to be up and about. Because train stations are open to the elements, there’s none of the antiseptic claustrophobia of airports. The chill in the air, the bustle of commuters, the grandeur of the setting and the proximity to the city means the journey takes on a certain importance... even if it were just a holiday jaunt.

If you’re overimaginative like me, you can hear a mental echo of the great days of rail, of Agatha Christie novels and Sherlock Holmes stories, of exiled Russian princesses and shady American magnates with obscure motives.

The Overland, a survivor of the 19th century, has two sit-up classes of travel nowadays; in May 2007, the old sleepers were swept away in favour of daytime-only travel, either in standard seating (Red Service) or the more roomy Red Premium carriages.

There’s also a dash of dagginess - or alternatively, homeliness - as part of the mix. As we travel, a recorded commentary pipes up from time to time, with service announcements and information on the destination we’re passing through. The commentator’s smooth tones dance the line between cheery and cheesy, with gags like “GSR has some of the finest train staff in the world... unfortunately they’re not on board today”. Sophisticated it ain’t, but the older audience likes it and it raises smiles.

Heading west

The first part of the journey, to Geelong, is a familiar trek, with Melbourne’s western suburbs giving way to flat, scrubby countryside punctuated by the odd little town. I always find this landscape faintly melancholy for some reason, imagining it as a wasteland between the two cities.

At North Shore we pull over for a while, opposite a maze of equipment in the industrial complex opposite. I can see from the schedule that we’ll be biding our time in a number of sidings today as the single track on most of the route gives priority to freight trains. It’s not really a problem, as the passengers on this ten hour journey are clearly vacationers out to enjoy the company and the passing scenery.

The clearest contrast to the more businesslike Melbourne-Sydney train is the Overland’s very pleasant cafe carriage, a notable omission from the Sydney train. It has comfortable table seating, and I sit here for a while with a coffee, talking to an older couple who are on holiday (On the way back, I share a table around sunset with a Muslim student from India, who breaks his Ramadan fast as the towers of Melbourne’s CBD appear on the horizon).

West of Geelong, industry gives way again to picturesque grassy, gently rolling fields lined by gum trees, though livestock seems thin on the ground. The light rain creates a mist across the horizon, softening the view and giving the suggestion of an Impressionist work. Around 11.30am we pass some fields dotted with rocky outcrops that look like worn remnants of ancient stone circles, happily ignored by lambs prancing about their mothers.

The commentary continues to flick on and off occasionally, giving info on passing towns and remarkable features, in the announcer’s best commercial radio tones. The attempts at folksiness also continue... a segment on SA’s wines mentions “great-tasting plonk” and concludes with the sound of clinking wine glasses.

Border crossing

Lunch arrives and is good - a tasty and crisp chicken caesar salad and excellent apricot cheesecake, served in bowls with a bubbly pinot noir chardonnay on the side. All for $24, which seems reasonable for long-haul transport in both price and quality. As the remains are cleared away we pass the red-brick Dimboola station building, a classic country station of the old school with its all-caps sign.

The crossing of the South Australian border is an anti-climax, announced by the driver after it’s happened. And, unsurprisingly, eastern South Australia looks much the same as western Victoria - green fields alternating with bright yellow fields of canola, interrupted by the occasional farmhouse.

At 2.15pm we pass through the aptly named Bordertown, the first town on the SA side of the border. Sadly, the charming old stone and timber train station, painted white, is boarded up. It seems an unnecessary derelict given the town’s role as the gateway to South Australia... perhaps it could become a visitor centre, or a museum?

South Australia’s passenger rail system has clearly declined since its glory days (there are, in fact, no passenger services outside Adelaide except the tourist-orientated interstate trains), and we pass more abandoned stations along the way. There may be nothing more depressing than a mouldering old platform with a pair of bare metal poles which once supported a destination sign. At least Tailem Bend station, reached about 4pm, is evidently still in use; I find out later it’s being restored as a visitor information centre.

Hills and vines

Ten minutes later, the landscape suddenly becomes dramatic. The consistently flat farming country gives way to hills, and the train begins to climb. Below, as we rise, I can see floodplains and grazing cows. Along the way we pass a peacock in someone’s backyard and a bathtub washed up somehow in the middle of the plain, then cross the Murray River on a spectacular 1924 bridge which carries us high above the plains and crops directly into Murray Bridge station on the opposite bank.

From this point the terrain becomes ever more hilly, as we head toward Mount Lofty and the Adelaide Hills, with rocky outcrops of silvery gum trees growing out of reddish soil. We soon have brilliant views over fields far below us, undulating distant hills, and a highway with cars driving past farmhouses, sheds and dried-out sporting grounds.

At 5pm we get our first glimpses of vineyards, lots of them, forming geometric patterns up and down the slopes. We’re also starting to see winery signs, neat stone houses from colonial times, and other types of farms hugging the hillsides.

Just after 5.30pm, nearing the end of the journey, an amazing view opens up from the heights above the city, looking down onto the vast flat plain with a cluster of tall buildings within the central business district. It feels like we’re truly in Adelaide’s orbit now. We slide down into the city and reach the interstate rail terminal, in the fairly unattractive industrial surrounds of Keswick, close to 6pm.

My verdict? The Overland takes time, but if you want to give air travel a miss in favour of a more relaxed approach involving non-stop scenery, canola fields, vineyards, evocative old stations and drinks in the bar with fellow passengers, it’s a great way to go intercolonial in the 21st century.

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Great Southern Railway. The Overland travels between Melbourne and Adelaide three times a week in both directions. For more info, visit GSR's website.

The Unpublished 3: Bar Adelaide

This month's example of a travel article that I've never been able to place takes us to the South Australian capital, Adelaide.

I was there for a week of travel writing which inexplicably involved alcohol at every step - a Barossa winery tour, a brewery tour, a day spent in Port Adelaide's pubs - so naturally I thought I should finish it off with a round-up of the city's best bars...

Fad Bar
30 Waymouth Street
(08) 8410 0987

There's nothing more depressing than postwar bank building architecture - cheap-looking institutional aluminium and glass frontage, with grid-like plaster squares on the ceiling. You can't do much with this, so Fad Bar doesn't even try.

Instead, it turns the decayed commercial tackiness to its advantage, with its scuffed walls repainted burnt orange, the floor littered with plush old '70s sofas, and the space decorated with gigantic, riotous pieces of pop art in enormous gilt frames.

There's little glitz here, but a lot of mellowness, as the laidback, dressed-down crowd sits around in the evening and recounts the day's battles over a beer.

At the back there's a tiny stage hosting live progressive rock most nights, and upstairs there's a funky art gallery. Across the street there's a real live bank, no doubt wondering if it could ever be as cool as its older brother when it retires.

The Apothecary 1878
118 Hindley Street
(08) 8212 9099

Alcoholic toasts invariably invoke the drinkers' health, so why not place a bar in a former pharmacy? Or apothecary, a grander word that suits the spectacular heritage surrounds of this classy drinking hole in the nightclub precinct.

The bar, a long dark timber counter, sits in front of shelving bathed in a subdued golden light, containing bottles of the barman’s modern medicine. It's faced on the other side of the room by vintage cabinets lined with old bottles and medical texts, and drawers labelled 'Sponge Bags', 'Elastic Stockings' and 'Trusses'.

A fanned mosaic floor lies beneath a magnificent chandelier, and there's a decent menu of tapas dishes stretching from chorizo to Persian feta. The drinks list includes a good range of cocktails, wines from Europe and Australia, and an array of beers from across the world. It's an elegant, grown-up space in which to sip a civilised drop.

Elysium Lounge
182 Hindley Street
(08) 8212 9888

What genius had the idea of combining 16 year old whisky, orange bitters, dark chocolate liqueur, tokay and orange zest in a single cocktail?

Whoever it was, I tip my hat to the Elysium Bar for its inspired (and lengthy) cocktail menu, backed up by the vast variety of alcoholic substances crowded along the shelves behind the compact bar of this west end cocktail joint.

Lined by blood-red banquettes and lit by wavy organic-looking lamps, this venue has plenty of space down the middle for dancing to the DJs playing old school and house on weekends. Earlier in the week, it's an ambient place to meet friends for a drink.

On Friday nights the happy hour runs from five to nine pm, and you’ll be rubbing shoulders with a happy post-work crowd of twenty to thirtysomethings. If you're not in the mood for an adventurous cocktail, there's a small but good range of local wines.

Dragonfly
193 Victoria Square
(08) 8212 5661

How mellow is this? Moulded white and orange chairs straight out of a 1960s science fiction movie sit around circular tables with decorative tops, in a boxy white space decorated with swathes of the brightest red. Relaxed music flows out of the speakers while chilled-out patrons relax on the scarlet banquettes or put their feet up on a pouffe.

Dragonfly is also an art gallery with changing exhibitions of a quirky nature on its walls, so there's something to look at while you sip. The bar opens from lunchtime during the working week, and serves a range of sharing dishes, along with mains, desserts and a varied selection of wine and cocktails.

As the venue is about as central as you can get, overlooking Victoria Square, it attracts office workers during the days and a casual young crowd at nights. Oh, and the coffee is both organic and fairtrade.

Escobar
95 Gouger Street
(08) 8231 6023

This flash bar on the Gouger Street restaurant strip is a super-glam cocktail temple, boasting a layout by the designer of Melbourne's classy Long Room.

It's dominated by geometric lines of glass and steel, which are softened by moody lighting and gauzy curtains which divide the edge of the venue into a series of sexy lounge spaces. The centre of Escobar is dominated by a long illuminated table, glowing golden from within, and surrounded by bright young things sipping cocktails.

Among the options in the diverse wine list, the standout is Pablo's Poison, a cognac-based cocktail with coffee syrup and a hint of absinthe. In its centre, a disc of ice containing frozen star anise slowly thaws, adding extra aroma.

Because Escobar is strategically located next to the popular Gaucho's Argentinian Restaurant and the other eateries of the strip, the bar buzzes in the evening with people either on their way to or from dinner. Escobar is a smooth CBD aperitif.

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Great Southern Railway and the South Australian Tourism Commission. Note: As this article was researched in 2007, the author takes no responsibility for readers' reliance on the information within. Always check on the current cocktail situation before travelling to Adelaide.

The Unpublished is a random series of my never-published travel articles. For previous instalments, click on the The Unpublished Topic tag below, then scroll down.