The Savannahlander

On Good Friday we awoke early to head over to the train station in Cairns and board the Savannahlander, a small, two-car train from Cairns to Forsayth.  Nine other passengers and two crew set out for a four-day rail trip that would take us into the Australian savannah of Queensland.  Rob and Matt were our crew, and the other passengers (all from Australia) were Christian, Zoe, Jacquelin, Leigh and Marilyn, Ian and Yvonne, and Ray and Sharon.  We all introduced ourselves to one another, and we were underway.

Because it’s a small train, passengers could take turns riding up front by the driver and in the two seats just behind him.  We could move about as we pleased, and since there were only a few of us we could take up as much space as we needed.  The only amenities aboard are a water cooler and a toilet in each car (the one in the first car being the old-fashioned, open-to-the-rails sort), so we stopped for morning tea, lunch, and lodging at towns along the way.  “Town” here shouldn’t be taken to mean too much, as the towns usually consist of a very small train depot—OK, a platform, usually, where we disembark—and a general store, plus a couple of houses.  Another advantage of it being a small train with few passengers is that any passenger could request a special stop for photo opportunities, so many of us would climb out, camera in hand, and snap away.  There were many photo opportunities: lush rainforest, waterfalls, then the bush and the outback, wallabies and kangaroos.  And Brahma cattle—lots of which seemed to think that of the vast land available for their grazing, the best grasses were to be had on the railroad track. 

On Saturday, we were told that we’d be having morning tea at the “Bullock Creek Café.”  For $5 we could get a cuppa and all the biscuits we cared to eat, plus a cup we could keep and get refilled for $3 “next time we stopped in.”  I looked out the window and wondered where this cafe would be, as all I could see was bush.  Even when the train pulled to a stop at a dry creek bed, I was still looking about for a café, until I saw Matt setting up a folding table there in the middle of nowhere.  The souvenir cup said, “This cup has been stolen from the famous Bullock Creek Café.  To report the theft, please visit savannahlander.com.au/whereareourcups.”   They have pictures of the cup “sightings” all over; I plan to add a few sightings of our own, including at the Great Wall and in Antarctica.  And, good to their word, we did visit the same café again on the return trip, and it was $3, and we did have all we could eat and drink.

Matt and Rob announced that we would attend a horserace in Einasleigh, and that as the Savannahlander was a sponsor, they would be presenting the prize to the winner of the third race.  The train pulled into Einasleigh, and there wasn’t even a platform for us to step onto as we clambered off the train.  Walking along a gravel road that met up with a dirt trail, I noticed that this “intersection” was marked as “Second and Daintree.”  Where First Street was I never figured out, as we’d just come along the only stretch that seemed significant, and it boasted only a hotel, a pub, and a couple of houses.  But the scenery was beautiful, so we didn’t mind the kilometer or so walk to the racetrack, even in the mid-90 degree heat.

As we walked along, I noticed that Yvonne had some flies on her back, so I started to brush them off for her, but Marilyn stopped me.  They explained, “First rule of the bush: don’t brush flies off someone’s back.  It can ride along for days back there, but if you brush it, it’ll fly in front of your face and pester you for hours.”  Ah.  Right.  We’re in “the bush.”  About half a kilometer down the road, we came to the racetrack.  It boasted a small corrugated metal building on which someone had spray painted “Secretary’s Office,” and next to this were two similar buildings spray-painted “Ladies” and “Gents.”  Called dunnies, these marvels of modern architecture pop up all over the outback.  I was feeling that we’d really gotten to Nowhere, Outback, Australia—so imagine my surprise when Beth tugged at my arm and urgently whispered, “Mom, look!  We didn’t dress right!  They’re all dressed up!”  Sure enough, there we were in our tourist clothes: shorts, tank tops, and bush hats—and all the women and girls were wearing fancy dresses and hats as if it were opening day at Ascot.  “I didn’t get the memo,” I muttered, and our Australian travel mates replied, “Oh, we got the memo, but it’s just too hot to care!”  Wondering aloud why they were so dressy, I was told, “This is the country. Women look forward to any excuse to dress up.”  It must be a British thing.  

Arriving just in time for the third race, I liked the looks of the Number 5 horse—spirited and feisty—so I jogged off to place a bet.  By the time I’d placed the wager, the horses were in the homestretch, and I didn’t even have time to get my camera out of its case before Number 5 pulled ahead and won—at 5:1 odds, so I collected a whopping $10 on my $2 bet.  Apparently, Number 5 was a bit too spirited and gave Matt a good fright in the winner’s circle, but Matt came away intact and we all made our way back to the train.  By the time I climbed back aboard, there were Marilyn and Yvonne sporting their “fascinators,” proving that they did, indeed, know the proper way to dress for the horse races in Absolutely-Square-Root-of-Diddly-Squat, Australia.     

Easter morning the girls awoke early and were eager to look for their Easter baskets.  I’d brought along Easter sacks that folded flat in the luggage, and they found their sacks filled with several goodies.  Oddly, they don’t use refillable plastic eggs in Australia.  I’d gone looking for them in Cairns, and each time I asked for plastic eggs, I was met with a blank stare.  “You know, the plastic eggs about this big that can be refilled each year with candy?”  And each time I got the same response: “What a good idea.”  But in Australia, the Easter Bunny hides chocolate eggs in the gardens.  Chocolate—in the sub-tropics.  Not a good idea.  Anyway, the girls didn’t do an egg hunt this year, and they surely missed having their cousins Karen and Eric hide hundreds of plastic eggs all over the yard.  Matt and Rob, though, were thinking of them and had brought Cadbury chocolate eggs and a special peanut-free chocolate bunny for Katy.

Our schedule on Easter Day was quite full.  We started our day just after breakfast with a bus ride over rocky terrain—the bus careening from side to side—to the edge of a river, where we shucked our shoes and waded across shin-deep water and continued a short trek through the bush to another smaller river.    There we found a motorboat waiting to take us through the Cobbold Gorge, formed over millions of years through a series of geological events.  The sky was a brilliant blue and the rocks were striated with reds and browns, and intricate spider webs dotted the crevices.  It was a gorgeous gorge!

The next event was a rodeo back in Einasleigh.  Even though it was Easter Sunday, folks were dressed casually for this event.  The cowboys looked odd to me in their helmets rather than cowboy hats, but the law in Australia requires protective helmets for all youths involved in the rodeo—probably a good idea, I thought, as I watched the bronc busting.  Strangely enough for an Okie family, this was Beth and Katy’s first rodeo, and they were reluctant to leave.

The day was rounded out with a trip to the Undara Lava Tubes.  “Undara” is an Aboriginal word meaning “long way”—an apt moniker for the tubes, which are the Earth’s longest flow of lava from a single volcano.  The formation of the tubes is fascinating; Wikipedia has an excellent article about them for which I've provided a link (at the right) rather than paraphrase here.  In some places the roof of the tubes has collapsed, which gives us access to them.  Equipped with strong “torches,” we trekked through the tubes and examined the beautiful and unusual walls of the cave-like structures.  Parts of the tubes were roped off, as they are sacred to the aboriginal people; tribes still use parts of the tubes for rituals and storytelling.  Thousands of bats roost in the crevices, and when we shone our torches on the ceiling, dozens would fly out as if to do their night-hunting.  The surface around the mouths of the tubes is virgin rainforest, pseudo-prehistoric land that has remained untouched since Australia split off from Gondwanaland.  Walking there, I had the feeling that I wouldn’t have been surprised to round a corner and come eye-to-eye with a dinosaur.

Our final day on the train was a long haul back to Cairns, but Christian had a special request: he had the train stop while he put his camera on the track.  The train backed up and rode over the camera, stopped, backed up again, and Christian filmed the train again from a different angle.  The camera survived and I’m eager to see Christian‘s footage of the underbelly of the train.  Along the way we also stopped for a roadside show at Boonmoo.  A family there lives next to the railroad track, and as the Savannahlander is the only train to use that section, the family provide a little trackside entertainment each week to the passengers.  Rob and Matt have seen many such productions, but it was quite a surprise to us.  The three youngest of their children had a “Wascally Wabbit” play in which Elmer Fudd loses his Easter stash to the Wabbit.  After the skit the children climbed aboard the train and offered treats to all the passengers, and their mother explained that they have lots of chilkdren and all have at some time taken part in these productions. 

It was like that everywhere we went: people camping along a river, or staying at a rustic track-side hotel, or just driving along the roads in the Outback all would stop, get out of their cars, and wave frantically at the passing train.  We’d wave back, and it was humorous that we were taking pictures of them taking pictures of us.  I learned from Rob and Matt that if it weren’t for the Savannahlander’s weekly trips, many of the small towns would shrivel up and blow away.  Passage of the train each week was an event eagerly anticipated; parents brought their children in the evenings to climb aboard and ride as Matt or Rob turned the train around, and locals obviously knew the train’s schedule.  For us, it was a superb opportunity to see some of the variety and beauty of Queensland, and a wonderful and memorable trip.