| Ticket to ride |
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| Issue 30 | |
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In Africa, no two railway journeys are alike. Here, we look at three. Geoffrey Dean enjoys the comforts of South Africa’s legendary Blue Train; Rhiannon Batten takes a train which, in its 1920s heyday, was the pride of French West Africa; and Kate Eshelby makes the unexpected discovery that in Eritrea, steam trains symbolise progress and pride. South Africa: The Blue Train By Geoffrey Dean For 27 hours, while the Blue Train glides through some of Africa’s most spectacular scenery and expansive landscapes, you don’t have to lift a finger. Where to spend your time on this beautifully crafted train is the only conundrum. For meals, of course, it is in the dining car, but for the rest of the trip, should it be the non-smoking lounge car with its books, sofas, armchairs and traditional bar; should it be the club car where smokers are permitted; should it be the superbly furnished observation car or your own luxurious suite? All are quite different and enhance the notion when you board in Cape Town (or in Pretoria if travelling in the other direction) that you are embarking on something more than a journey. An odyssey perhaps, or, as one of my fellow passengers put it, a return to a bygone era. It is this feeling of timelessness that helps to make the Blue Train such a special experience. It has been running since 1946, although the current model in use, 380 metres long, its blue carriages sporting a white roof and a white stripe down the side, was introduced in 1997. The fixtures and furnishings are modern, therefore, but still retain an elegant and quaintly old-fashioned feel. That aura is reinforced by the presence of your personal butler, permananently on call and immaculately attired in waistcoat and white shirt with starched collar and stud. I rang mine at 5am, thirsty for some mineral water, and within minutes he appeared. Another passenger was travelling on her birthday, for which her butler arranged a surprise cake. Shortly before we disembarked in Pretoria, everyone found a small parting gift, a miniature clock, in their suites. This sort of personal touch was typical of the effort that friendly management and staff alike put in. For viewing purposes, the observation car at the very rear of the train was my favourite place to while away time and watch some dramatic scenery unfurl itself. With its huge windows, including a specially designed one at the very back, it felt as if the 180-degree vistas were washing over you. Some 45 minutes after pulling out of Cape Town station at 11am, Table Mountain slipped out of view for the last time, but for hour after hour we seemed to be slicing through one stunning mountain range after another. After the vineyards and fruit farms of Paarl, Wellington and Worcester, it was through four tunnels, one (the Hexton) being the fourth longest in the world at 13km. ‘When will these majestic mountains end?’ I wrote in my diary at lunchtime. The answer was not until 3.30pm when we hit the Karoo, the vast semi-desert that covers much of South Africa. Even then, it was not long before another long chain of picturesque hills, the Swartberg, appeared just south of the lovely old period frontier town Matjiesfontein, around which we strolled during a late afternoon stop of an hour. The Swartberg would stay with us for another 400km or so, a quarter of our entire journey. The sun set behind them that evening in a magnificent cloudy riot of pinks, reds and oranges. Of the 82 passengers on board, the great majority were from outside South Africa. There were about a dozen locals, including three black couples. One of these gentlemen, a Soweto resident, had last travelled on a train in 1973 when his stolen car turned up in Natal, requiring him to take the train to Durban to collect it. “To appreciate the beauty of the journey,” was his motive for travelling. He cannot have been disappointed. No account of the Blue Train would be complete without mention of the wonderful cuisine. Lunch and dinner, each served over two sittings in the splendid dining car, featured a choice of food that would satisfy the most demanding of gastronomic tastes (snails, oysters, lobster, beef, lamb, venison for example). The lengthy, all-South African wine-list included included some of the country’s outstanding reds and whites. The best champagne, port, brandy and whisky were all available in the lounge car. Asking my fellow passengers about the small details on the Blue Train that struck them brought a variety of answers. A former fighter pilot in the Indian air force said he found the beds very comfortable; his wife was impressed by the flowers in both the suites and the bathrooms. Suites were either de luxe or luxury, and all had their own marble-tiled bathrooms. A Dutch couple liked the space of the suites which, they said, compared very favourably with those on cruiseliners. An American judge revelled in the ambience of the train and the fact that passengers were taken care of so well. Overall, everyone’s expectations seemed to have been met. My own certainly had. West Africa: The Dakar to Bamako Express By Rhiannon Batten Tempting though it was to linger in Dakar’s cafés or even dip into an oceanside pool, I was looking forward to waking up on board the Bamako train with its views of Sahara-dusted baobabs, skinny bush paths snaking off into nowhere and electric blue Abyssinian rollers and red-billed firefinches streaking past the window. I had bought the tickets two days before, after queuing – and being queue-barged – for hours to reach the dust-covered ticket office where a weary clerk sat behind a grimy window. That seemed like an achievement in itself. Now, on the designated afternoon of departure I felt like a prisoner as I gripped the large, locked iron gates of Dakar’s magnificent French colonial station – from the outside. Inside, the concourse was empty apart from a blackboard facing the entrance. Written in the most elegant, old-fashioned script, the message was brief and to the point: “This train will depart tomorrow at 7pm” – a mere 29 hour delay. None of the regular travellers seemed surprised. “C’est l’Afrique,” said Joseph, a sad-eyed college lecturer heading home to visit his family. Today was Tabaski, he explained, the annual festival in which every family who can afford it sacrifices a goat in celebration of the sparing of Abraham’s son. “They knew the train would never run when they sold the tickets,” said another conspiracy theorist. “They just wanted to stop us getting the bus.” Joseph shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the pavement to wait, and fantasise over goat stew. When I returned the next day, he had found his way inside the station and was resting his head on a large bag of rice. 7pm came, and we were on our way – or at least we would be as soon as all the passengers, with their sacks of salt, rolled-up carpets, televisions, stoves and back-slung babies could squeeze their way onto the platform through the tiny turnstile beside the large iron gates (still locked). “It wasn’t like this in Sierra Leone or Liberia,” snapped a fellow traveller, a dangerzone-addicted Norwegian woman, eyeballing the guards by the gates. Eventually everyone took their place, the engine jerked into action, and there was a last-minute scramble for the bananas, bags of peanuts and bissap cordial being flogged by vendors down on the platform. The train gradually gathered speed in the fire-scented city night and, as we settled into the strange slow-motion bouncing that would propel us, space-hopper-like, through the next 700-plus miles, it wasn’t long before mud huts replaced beachside apartment blocks, dust took the place of tarmac and leafy boulevards gave way to endless flat scrubland. Opened in 1923 to link the biggest cities in French-occupied West Africa, this was once the region’s premier line. In the 1950s, contemporary commentators could boast that three passenger trains a week ran in both directions and that the express “covered the 769 miles in 29 hours and was rarely late.” On our modern-day rumble from Senegal to Mali, however, the service had been reduced to a caricature of its former self – with crumbling tracks, dirt-swaddled carriages and a single, marathon three-day journey a week. Inside the compartments, commands in French, English, Italian and German not to lean out of the window or drink the water betray the great age of the rolling stock – in a former life, the carriages plied the route from Calais to Milan. Even the ever-cheerful Michael Palin, who rode the line during the filming of his Sahara series, was so exhausted by the effort that he marked his arrival with a diary entry that wailed: “Bamako Station, 5.40 am. The Heart of Darkness.” If anything could do with a bit of a makeover, it is the Dakar-Bamako train. As we trundled on through the flat and parched Saharan soil, I fantasised about it being done up in upholstery stitched from intricate indigo-mottled Dogon cloth. I pictured a restaurant car serving up plates of steaming chicken yassa and gourmet brochettes and a hop-on, hop-off service allowing passengers to dip into dusty national parks and rustic auberges along the way. In the absence of all that, it was a case of making do with one of the service’s grimy first-class sleepers, complete with bare mattress and bulb-less light fittings. Still, we were better off than Greg, an American we met on the way. In West Africa to stock up on drums for his business back in California, he was keeping costs down by sticking to a rickety second class seat – baking by day, freezing by night when the windows are kept open. Every so often he would crawl stiffly into our compartment and unwind as the baobabs – and the odd Abyssinian roller – rolled by. There are reasons to be cheerful along the way, we reminded ourselves. Perhaps not quite as many as there were in the days when Mory Kanté, Salif Keita and the rest of the legendary Rail Band would be waiting for you at the end of the line with a motley programme of traditional African melodies and James Brown-style beats. But reasons nonetheless. Eritrea: Asmara to Massawa by Steam Train By Kate Eshelby With a puff of steam and a toot of its whistle, the Mallet 442.54 locomotive slowly draws out of the elegant colonial station, leaving behind the calm palm-shaded boulevards of Asmara, the highland capital of Eritrea. The old steam train winds snake-like through the peaks and valleys, passing villages perched precariously on a jagged staircase of terracing, en route to the hot Red Sea port of Massawa. Along its journey from Asmara to Massawa, the line descends from a height of 2,342 metres down to sea level. As it plunges through the impressive landscape, it coils and bends, crossing ancient viaducts and bridges. Mountains stretch upwards into the sky, steel-blue in the piercing bright sunlight. Children run out of their homes, waving with excitement at the passengers. Camels saunter past, their pendulum legs swinging casually beneath them. The track is an extraordinary feat of engineering, seemingly defying gravity as it cuts dramatically into steep escarpments. The trains have no centralised brake system, and in order to negotiate the terrain, each carriage has its own brakeman, who is directed by the driver using a series of horn blasts, each with its own meaning. This is the course of the famous Eritrean railway, built by Italian settlers for passenger transport and for the export of produce such as salt, potash, cotton, and citrus fruits to the Middle East. The line, which suffered severe damage during Eritrea’s 30 year struggle for independence from Ethiopia, was closed in 1975 and remained so for over 25 years. The war between Ethiopia and Eritrea – the longest in Africa’s recent turbulent history – is a remarkable story of resilience and determination. 40,000 volunteer freedom fighters from Eritrea, one third of them women, came together to fight, and win, against 500,000 Ethiopian soldiers, who were backed by both the US and Russia. Eritrea fought alone, with little media attention, capturing most of its supplies from the enemy. The people were united in a fierce desire for independence from their Ethiopian rulers. But as always with war the struggle totally destroyed the country’s infrastructure and economy, wasted 65,000 lives, left thousands disabled and drove one third of the population into exile. To subscribe or order this issue click here After the Eritreans finally gained independence in 1991, the Government commissioned and funded the huge task of the Eritrean Railways Rehabilitation (ERR) project to rebuild the railway, the nation’s former lifeline, as part of the country’s enthusiastic efforts to get back on its feet. Many of the elderly railwaymen who had worked on the line prior to its cessation were brought out of their forced retirement because so many of Eritrea’s fit young men are still conscripted into the army, making it difficult to find enough manpower. These veterans had much-needed knowledge of the old system, without which the project would not have succeeded. They dug the old rails out of the hillside and hauled them back into place for no payment. The work was tough but their passion for the end result provided strength. The veterans have many tales to tell of the railway’s history. At 75 years of age Srage Hassen is working as a brakeman again. He recounts how he used to transport medicine secretly to the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front, the armed opposition, at huge personal risk. Even though Ethiopians were working on the railways with him during ‘occupation’ he knew the trains so well he was able to hide supplies without their knowledge. Massawa is reached after seven hours of spectacular mountain scenery, the heat having reached an oven-like intensity due to its closeness to the Danakil Depression, the hottest place in the world. The track now stretches out past turquoise sea on either side and mirages form in the distance of the shimmering desert. Once the pearl of the Red Sea, the port suffered enormous damage during the war, but its former glory is still evident among the coral rag buildings, with their trellised balconies and key-hole windows, which date back to the Ottoman Empire. My travelling companion, Amanuel Ghebreselasie, director of the ERR and an ex-liberation fighter, has many plans for the railway, including eventually restoring the line that runs west from Asmara to Keren and Agordat. But for now, the diesel locomotives will carry freight along the Asmara–Massawa route, relieving road traffic and revitalising agricultural areas abandoned after the disruption of the railway. In addition, tourists will travel in the beautifully restored steam trains. The journey is certainly a memorable one, enabling the romantic age of steam travel to be relived once more. Most important, perhaps, is the role of Eritrea’s railway as a symbol of liberation and of the self-reliance and determination that enabled its people to win the war with Ethiopia. After a long struggle, Eritreans want to rebuild their lives and country. As the train shot out of the enveloping darkness of one of the longest tunnels the director, Ammanuel, turned to say, “If you have a dream and believe in it enough, then humans have the power to achieve it. Like a train leaving a tunnel, we are coming out of the darkness and now it is time to rebuild our country, fight poverty and move into the light.” To subscribe or order this issue click here Great African Train Journeys Below we take a whistlestop tour of some of Africa’s most celebrated rail safari routes. Although local trains are not geared up for tourists – some are unreliable, and facilities can be basic – they can provide a fascinating travel experience. Meanwhile, Africa’s luxury ‘cruise’ trains are generally very well-equipped, whisking you through stunning scenery with sightseeing stops en route. Local trains Asmara to Massawa, Eritrea: Restored steam trains now carry passengers and freight. Dakar to Bamako express, Senegal and Mali: Leaves Dakar Sat, stops at Kayes Sun a.m., arrives Bamako late Sun or early Mon. Leaves Bamako Wed, arrives Dakar Thu. Generally overcrowded, often delayed. Iron ore train, Mauritania: Carrying iron ore between Nouádhibou and Zouérat overnight, this is one of Africa’s coldest and least comfortable trains. Nairobi to Mombasa, Kenya: Book a sleeper for this classic overnight journey on a historic train complete with old-fashioned dining car. A safer bet than taking the highway. ONCF, Morocco: The Moroccan rail network is modern, fast and comfortable, and connects most major towns in the northern and central region. www.oncf.org.ma Tazara, Tanzania: Runs all the way from Dar es Salaam to Mbeya and on to Kapira Mposhi in Zambia, passing through part of the Selous Game Reserve on the way. Slow but scenic. Transgabonais train, Gabon: Owendo (near Libreville) to Booué, Lastoursville and Franceville four times a week: efficient, punctual, and generally much faster than road routes. Luxury trains The Blue Train, South Africa: Africa’s best-known luxury train combines modern diesel-powered comfort with old-fashioned hospitality. Runs from Cape Town to Pretoria and to Victoria Falls all year round. Also runs from Cape Town to Port Elizabeth along the Garden Route. www.bluetrain.co.za Desert Express, Namibia: Carries passengers from Windhoek to Swakopmund in air conditioned comfort. Twice weekly. www.- desertexpress.com.na Outeniqua Choo-Tjoe, South Africa: Steam-hauled scheduled passenger train running daily from Knysa to George through spectacular scenery. Includes the famous Kaaimans River viaduct. www.onlinesources.co.za/chootjoe Rovos Rail, southern Africa: A true Victorian antique, brought up to date with modern suspension and air conditioning. Two restored steam trains run along six routes taking in South Africa, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Namibia and Tanzania including Pretoria to Cape Town, Victoria Falls or Swakopmund and a breathtaking two-week trip from Cape Town to Dar es Salaam. Flights can be arranged for the return leg. www.rovosrail.co.za Shongololo Express, southern Africa: Luxury tours of South Africa, Namibia, Mozambique, Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe lasting 3-16 days. The trains carry a fleet of Mercedes minibuses to take passengers out on day trips en route. www.shongololo.com The Union Limited, South Africa: Vintage steam safari taking in South Africa’s Garden Route, including the famous Kaaimans River viaduct. Leisurely and comfortable. |
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