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The TranzAlpine over (and under) the Southern Alps

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Any morning is a good morning for a train ride

We were the first to arrive for the TranzAlpine train to Greymouth. So early in fact, that the Christchurch railway staff kindly offered to share their office coffee as no cafes were open nearby. It was going to be a five-hour trip up and over the spine of New Zealand’s South Island. I sat in the lobby that morning, watching the shade and the sun jockey for position on the platform, and picking at the side of my coffee cup—anxious to move. This is the land of the Southern Alps and blue-gray “braided” rivers, and the scenic train was expected to be full.

Glimpses between noggins on the TranzAlpine train in New Zealand's Southern Alps
Glimpses between other tourists’ noggins, while on the TranzAlpine train in New Zealand’s Southern Alps  🙂

 

And full it was. Everybody was in the viewing car when the train passed into a landscape of dramatic green gorges, with the turquoise Waimakariri River pouring along at the bottom. I’d been standing on the “wrong” side of the viewing car, daydreaming and sniffing at the wind like a dog when I heard the exclamations and gasps. People stood 4 deep on the other side of the open-air viewing car. No one was going to cede a railing spot with that view. I held my camera high over their heads and snapped a few photos—not one lucky. A cloud soon vignetted the view and a soft, sweet rain sparkled down in the full-on sun, over a jade-green gorge and the sky-blue water. I moved away from the crowd, and stepped out into the “between”. There, between the cars, was an open railing, the green gorge, the blue water, and those magical raindrops twinkling down. Thank you gods of New Zealand!

The braided turquoise Waimakariri River, from the TranzAlpine, South Island, New Zealand
The braided turquoise Waimakariri River, from the TranzAlpine, South Island, New Zealand
The turquoise rivers of South Island, New Zealand as seen from the TranzAlpine train
South Island, New Zealand as seen from the TranzAlpine train
Sheep run up a green hill from the sound of the TranzAlpine Train, New Zealand
Sheep run from the sound of the TranzAlpine Train, New Zealand
Lone house near the TranzAlpine tracks in New Zealand
Lone house near the TranzAlpine tracks in New Zealand
From the viewing car on the TranzAlpine Train in New Zealand
From the viewing car on the TranzAlpine Train in New Zealand

 

Going through the Otira Tunnel

After a while, the train stopped at Arthur’s Pass National Park and almost everyone exited. The train was quiet, the viewing car now empty except for the lucky few of us going on to Greymouth. We were about to enter the Otira Tunnel, a 100-year old, long (5.25 miles) tunnel that takes the train down 820 feet, under the Southern Alps from Arthur’s Pass to Otira. Because of exhaust fumes in the tunnel, the viewing car is closed, the cafe car is closed, and riders are asked to stay seated. We entered the darkness. The mountain walls on either side were very, very close. The train was going slow. Sometimes so slow that it felt as if we had stopped moving, betrayed only by a few bumps, the occasional sounds of metal groaning and screeching, and a sound like a squeegee on a wet windshield. This went on, and on, and on. Having just left Christchurch, thoughts of earthquakes, land shifting up 6 feet, and rockslides began to nibble on the edges of my consciousness.

When we passed out of the tunnel into brightness–an eternity (or 20 minutes) later, it’s as if life came back into the train. Smiles, laughter, we breathed again. I suddenly wanted a glass of wine, and maybe ice cream. I was not the only one. The cafe car had brisk business just after the tunnel.

New Zealand’s West Coast

We were on the West Coast of New Zealand now. The tunnel had taken us to another realm. I sat with my Sauvignon Blanc, and listened to the GPS-triggered history recordings onboard, making notes in my journal. This lush “sub-tropical valley” was “too wet for sheep”, so it was now used for “dairying”. Some seeds were blown here from Australia. And I got chill-bumps when they told the story of the white heron, whose flight one is lucky to see once in a lifetime, or in death (as in, “He flies with the white heron now.”)

Cows watch as the TranzAlpine train passes, South Island New Zealand
Cows watch as the TranzAlpine train passes, South Island New Zealand

How lucky I felt that day, on the TranzAlpine train, in beautiful New Zealand. To read more about taking the train in New Zealand, please see this post.

Carol & Bryan boarding the TranzAlpine in Christchurch
Carol & Bryan boarding the TranzAlpine in Christchurch
New Zealand's rugged landscape as seen from the TranzAlpine train
New Zealand’s rugged landscape as seen from the TranzAlpine train

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The night train: Budapest to Prague through Slovakia

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The night train:  Budapest to Prague through Slovakia

We boarded the train around 10 p.m. on October 11, 1998… our one year wedding anniversary.  It was about a 300 mile trip, scheduled for 7 1/2 hours.

Mapping the route Budapest to Prague on the Night Train
Mapping the route Budapest to Prague on the Night Train

The train was no great shakes, an old hard-working train with tons of character. We had a tiny sleeper car–a bunk bed, a shelf, and a window. We bought paprika pork-rind looking chips and cokes, lit a candle and settled into a quick game of cribbage before retiring.

overnight train to prague
On the overnight train Budapest to Prague: Bryan in our “double sleeping, 1st class” train car. I’m standing outside the door in the aisle to take the photo.

We weren’t asleep long when the train stopped and there came a loud pounding at the door. “PASSPORTS!” (more like “PAHS-PURTS”). Sleepy and a bit shaken, we opened the door, showed our passports and watched as one of the uniformed border-crossing guards squeezed into our car to lift our bunks and have a look beneath. There was a lot of motion as the guards flipped pages in the passports and stamped. And then they were gone. We crawled back into our bunks and fell back to sleep to the cradle-rocking motion of the train. But this episode repeated itself again…and again…and again over the next few hours.

We ended up with 4 passport stamps that night. I was so exhausted, I don’t even remember the order of the stamps or the places we passed through. There are two with the date of Oct 11–SZOB and MZ STUROVO and two with the date of Oct 12–CZ KUTY and CR LANZH. It was like a weird dream–the border guards, the rocking train, the fresh smell of fields from the window, and every now and then seeing the lights of villages go past…the brilliant essence of travel.

 

Later I could piece together that we left Hungary at Szob, and a few miles later must have passed through the Štúrovo, Slovakia side of the border crossing.  We left Slovakia at Kúty and entered the Czech Republic at Lanžhot.  Best I can tell. We arrived in Prague around 6 a.m. at Hlavni Nadrazi station.

 

Hungary Flag
Hungary Flag
Slovakia Flag
Slovakia Flag
Czech Republic Flag
Czech Republic Flag