POSTCARD FROM...
Riding the Rails Coast to Coast
One poetic passenger captures the spirit of adventure aboard the Indian Pacific.
POEM Tony Wehlow
Riding the Indian Pacific train Through outback sun and open plain The earth and sky stretch far and wide Australia’s grand, untamed pride
The iron rails, a desert tune hum Underneath the blazing sun The red dirt whispers ancient lore With tales that time cannot ignore
Kangaroos bound in the golden glare Emus wander without a care No trees to break the endless view A straight line to the horizon's blue
A staff of warmth, such a friendly crew In the heart of the desert, they shine so true Sarah and Esther and that Clapton kid Layla There were so many more, not one a failure
From dawn's first light to the dusky hue Each moment shared feels fresh and new With every glass of Bollinger, a story spun Their enthusiasm flows like the setting sun
In Kalgoorlie’s heart, a vibrant beat The super pit, where past and present meet Weathered hotels stand with stories to tell Of miners’ laughter and fortunes that fell
Beneath the Southern Cross so bright In Cook SA, the sky ignites A bonfire crackles, shadows dance As stars above weave dreams in trance
Suddenly the poet’s curse A staff change, another verse Jasmine, Bridgette, Nicole and Millie from Peru Different names, still a fantastic crew
In Seppeltsfield, where the vines entwine A feast awaited, with flavors divine As wine and laughter began to flow Echoes of Joseph Seppelt began to show
The rhythm of dance, a celebration of time With tawny port, rich and sublime Each sip reveals a lineage unbroken History told in taste, not spoken
In Broken Hill where they had to fight The miner’s memorial, a sombre site Looking over the town, loved ones lost Riches to be had, but at what cost
The Blue Mountains, where the world unfolds Scenic World beckons with stories untold The cable cars glide through treetops so high To the echoes of nature that linger and sigh
The mountains rise, draped in misty hues Whispers of valleys, the ancient blues With every glance, the splendour ignites A dance of the clouds and the soft morning lights
Shoes shoved under swinging doors No chance you will ever hear the snores Cardboard jammed where windows creak No chance you’ll ever get to sleep
Indian Pacific magic, from coast to coast This epic trip we’ll gladly boast Though rockin’ and rollin’ deprived the sleep Plenty of time to eat, drink and repeat