The photo was taken from the footpath on the eastern side of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Behind the ferries, it shows the Sydney Opera House, Government House in front of the Botanic Gardens, and city office buildings. We walk the bridge in Chapter 2 and discuss the harbour and its many attractions.
From time to time, I will use text from the book in my posts so readers can get a feel for the story and also get to know my writing style. And where better place to start than the beginning. Here is Chapter 1.
‘I love trains: I read, write, chat and do sudokus, visit the buffet car, or just gaze out the window. And today there would be plenty of time. The 300 km trip from Canberra to Sydney – from the national capital to Australia’s most populous city – takes four hours. So why not take the faster bus? Simple: trains are more fun.
The three-car Xplorer left Kingston station at midday, the pleasant rolling motion of wheels on track soporific. We added passengers at Queanbeyan, then started climbing through Molonglo Gorge – native pines and scraggly gums clinging to rugged slopes. I opened my map book and began navigating. The train slowed, then stopped, still in the gorge.
After a few minutes, an attendant announced ‘the engine is busted’ and told us we were ‘reversing back to Canberra’. Passengers shook their heads in disbelief, searched for mobiles, changed plans.
Twenty minutes into my round-Australia odyssey and I was going backwards! Who said catching trains was fun?
Two of the train’s three engines were broken; we were to be transferred to buses. ‘The coaches have just left Goulburn; they’ll be here in one and a half hours.’ More phone calls.
Unfortunately, I had boarded the second of the two buses. It called into every whistlestop station along the railway line while – I later discovered – the earlier bus raced nonstop along the highway to Sydney.
Most of us hadn’t eaten since breakfast, as we had planned to buy lunch on the train. It was now midafternoon; stomachs were rumbling. We finally stopped in Mittagong, next to a cafe in a park. Laden with junk food, we sat at grubby picnic tables – a kind of desperate camaraderie, born of adversity, was developing amongst us.
I chatted to Anne, a 30-something New Zealand artist. ‘I combine my art with a gypsy lifestyle’ she told me, ‘it just pays the bills, but more importantly, it keeps me sane.’
Anne was travelling to Sydney to catch a London flight. ‘I lived there for several years; have lots of friends, though this will be my last trip for some time. Flying generates too much carbon pollution. Why are you going to Sydney?’
‘It’s day one of seeing Australia by bus and train. I wanted to travel by public transport, but some long-distance services are privately owned so it’ll be a mix of public and private. I plan to visit national parks, hopefully see lots of wildlife, and write about it.’
‘That sounds great. Is it some sort of personal journey?’
‘I grew up in the flower-power ’60s so I think I’ll call it a “long trip”.’
‘I like that; is it going to be a guidebook?’
‘No, it’s more a story about different experiences, snapshots of interesting places, and chats with people I meet – like you.’
Driver Gary called us to board. Nine hours after leaving Canberra, we reached Sydney, where my brother-in-law Alois met me. By the time we arrived at my sister Bronwen’s house in leafy Artarmon, dinner had become supper.’