The train journey is surreal - very cosy and friendly. I wasn't entirely happy with Greymouth but the journey there and back again and the experience was amazing.
I've always been fascinated by train journeys. The idea of being in a warm enclosed space - where you share the warmth with strangers and friends you are travelling with - and watch places fly by.
Here is an excerpt from a moleskine entry whilst in the train:
This particular train journey is even more gorgeous because the train is clean - neat, cosy and has friendly Kiwi staff with a smattering of Kiwi humour (on the Captain's loudspeaker). And the view through the forests, straddling the shoulders of the mountain, driving under umbrellas of clouds, rubbing against apline and tropical forests and floating on top of green fresh rivers melted from the snowy peaks.
You pass through places of remote history and chuckle at little stories that the loudspeaker fancies you with. About their stations obscure and abandoned hotels and ghost towns.
Through the dark tunnel now.
Through an old forest later.
Through a mountains pass then,
And through to a small station where you get off to stretch yourself
And get a whiff of the cold air,
The same air on which wisps of cloud float and
Drape the collars of the mountain
And then you emerge in a valley with sparkling sun and golden towering mountains surrounding you - and beside the train, a clear faultless lake reflecting all the glory two fold.
I've always been fascinated by train journeys. The idea of being in a warm enclosed space - where you share the warmth with strangers and friends you are travelling with - and watch places fly by.
Here is an excerpt from a moleskine entry whilst in the train:
This particular train journey is even more gorgeous because the train is clean - neat, cosy and has friendly Kiwi staff with a smattering of Kiwi humour (on the Captain's loudspeaker). And the view through the forests, straddling the shoulders of the mountain, driving under umbrellas of clouds, rubbing against apline and tropical forests and floating on top of green fresh rivers melted from the snowy peaks.
You pass through places of remote history and chuckle at little stories that the loudspeaker fancies you with. About their stations obscure and abandoned hotels and ghost towns.
Through the dark tunnel now.
Through an old forest later.
Through a mountains pass then,
And through to a small station where you get off to stretch yourself
And get a whiff of the cold air,
The same air on which wisps of cloud float and
Drape the collars of the mountain
And then you emerge in a valley with sparkling sun and golden towering mountains surrounding you - and beside the train, a clear faultless lake reflecting all the glory two fold.