Last time I blogged, I was happily enjoying the train from Sydney to Melbourne, despite the three hour bus ride at 7.45 a.m., which the journey had begun with.

This enjoyment had quickly deteriorated soon after.

The temperature in our cabin began to rise. From the comfortably cool temperature I was at, I went to having to take my jumper off, to being warm, to sweating unpleasantly, to being hot and bothered. I went to quench my thirst with the ‘Chilled drinking water’ provided, only to discover that it was lukewarm and not very refreshing. I felt beneath me that the gentle rhythm of the train wheels had begun to slow and eventually stopped. I looked outside my window, expecting to see a railway siding beside me, but instead saw a vast expanse of the golden sea of yellowing vegetation. We all strained to listen to the male ocker voice of our train manager over the crackling PA system, for an explanation.

The temperature outside had risen to low – mid forties, heating up the train track to such an extent that it was dangerous to travel. We waited and eventually the train rolled on.

For about ten minutes.

We went on in this fashion for a couple of hours, stopping and starting, the temperature in the carriage continuously rising. At yet another stop, the crackling voice was heard again, and it was explained to us that several carriages had lost air conditioning (ours was not one of them and it was already sweltering!) and that we would be transferred to a bus at the next station. Our ideas of train travel around our country were progressively turning into a uncomfortable coach tour.

I soon became thankful that we were changing. The heat and movement of the train had become too much for a particular little boy sitting behind us and decided that the aisle directly beside my seat would be an opportune place to purge his insides. Wanting to help, but barely keeping my stomach contents down myself, I thrust some wet-ones I had in my bag to the parents to help clean their child up. All while keeping my head turned the other way. This was the one time in my life that I was glad to get onto a bus and away from the festering smell of vomit in a hot carriage.

There was a mad rush by all patrons to collect baggage and make our way to the coaches. As neither me nor my two my fellow travellers had the desire or the energy to push through, we ended up not sitting next to each other. The trip began hot and miserably, however improved immensely as the air conditioning kicked in and I was finally able to enjoy some shut eye on the three hour journey.

At 9 p.m., two and a half hours behind schedule, we saw the skyline of Melbourne. Never had I been so thankful for a journey to end.

Teen on a Train