DISTANCE IS NOT MEASURED in kilometres onboard the Great Southern that travels between Brisbane and Adelaide. Instead, vignettes of rural Australia serve as waymarkers: A white mare flicking its tail on the emerald slopes of the Byron hinterland; A lone shack – weatherboarded and timeworn – perched by the briny banks of the Hawkesbury River; Silos rising from the golden grasslands of regional Victoria, rendered tender in the honeyed glow of the evening sun.
In the early 20th century, Australian bush poet Henry Lawson popularised ‘the sketch’ – a literary form consisting of a short, descriptive narrative containing little plot, if any at all. Before the advent of mainstream photography, ‘the sketch’ served to evoke the essence of a place and transport readers, however briefly, into an unfamiliar world.
Journeying aboard the Great Southern feels analogous. From the window of my cabin, pastoral scenes rush by, fading from view just as quickly as they enter. The motion of the train melds the colours – all dusty greens, mottled browns and smoky greys – into painterly impressions, rough sketches of life in the country.
