FEBRUARY 6, 2022 – As hours rolled by, I stared in wonder out the picture window of my compartment. Often, I imagined peering out the window of a spacecraft circling Mars just above the surface: the arid infinity outside was mesmerizing in its “other worldliness.” At a refueling stop in Cook (now a ghost town; population 4), we disembarked to patronize a small tourist shop—open only during train stops—and . . . to have a look around.
The “look around” was a 360-degree-view of infinitely flat, stony ground free of all obstructions and bearing no hint of vegetation. The atmosphere was as devoid of sound as it was of vapor.
But even in its driest, flattest, featureless corner, our Good Earth harbors life and beauty. As my letter home described it . . .
. . . the monotony of the Outback is often broken by herds of hopping ’roos and racing emus. This morning, just after a brilliant sunrise, I saw an unusual display of Outback wildlife. Huge kangaroos bounded around by the dozen—in an hour I counted close to 100! Next the emus appeared, cantering through the scrub. Later I spotted wedged-tailed eagles, and at a rare waterhole, I saw large flocks of pelicans.
There is a stark beauty about Australia’s Outback, and an artist would doubtless have much to say about it. Sunrises and sunsets have predictable but nonetheless awesome patterns. The full moon, escorted by bright stars, casts a silver glow by night, silhouetting the Outback scrub. The scenery is eerie. The ground looks more like a Martian desert than like the soil of earth. Perhaps Antarctica is the true end of the earth, but I’ve never felt so far from nothing as I do right now. Yet I am at peace with the world and not out of place, for I know God is here too; here in the great desert. And the moon that lights our way is the same lunar light that shines on you, half the world away.
Australia is a vast, mysterious continent, and one can appreciate the country’s size only by overland, trans-continental passage. We’ve been on the rails for over 20 hours now and I’ve lost all sense of time.
This afternoon at Port Pirie (get out your atlas!), we stopped for 60 minutes, and not missing a minute, I hopped off the train and ran about for 45 minutes. Occasionally, all my training pays off—I got to see most of the town.
Yes, it’s all magnificent, and this train experience will be remembered as a special wonder of my trip.
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The next evening, we stopped in Kalgoorlie for another refueling stop. The Wangai (Aboriginal) name of the gold-mining town seemed perfect for the Aussie version of “Wild West.” To sample local life, I entered a saloon on the main, dusty street, joined rough-neck miners at the bar, and ordered a Foster’s to complete the picture.
The next day I was in Perth, gazing at the Indian Ocean—and gaping beyond the edge of the world.
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
