Coast to coast

The train rocks softly side to side and a rhythmic click-clack echoes through the cabin. I’ve never been hypnotised, nor would I want to be, but I imagine it’s similar to the way I feel as I stare out at the vast nothingness of the Nullarbor Plain. Cruising along at 85 kilometres per hour, small shrubs and Mars-like rocks whiz by as the sunset casts a pink blanket over the barren yet beautiful landscape.

We’re aboard the majestic Indian Pacific, travelling across the world’s longest straight stretch of railroad when a man’s voice comes through the cabin speaker. He explains that the word Nullarbor comes from