Views from the South Coast Line. Photos: Kellie O’Brien.
Some spend thousands chasing the rhythmic clickety-clack of a scenic train journey, sipping wine in vintage carriages as rugged landscapes roll by.
For me, it’s a tap of my Opal card to achieve the same vibes for $6.01 — minus the wine and plus a woman narrating her work woes on speakerphone so loudly I now know her colleagues intimately.
Coming from a state where there’s no public train system — only a bus service that regularly forgot to pick you up and had you running for a phone box to 1800 Reverse call mum — the NSW South Coast Line initially felt like bliss.
My train experience to that point had included driving two hours to ride on Tasmania’s famous West Coast Wilderness Railway, with its 1897 Abt rack and pinion system traversing mountainous terrain with steep inclines you were sure would see you plummeting to your death.
So, to ride a train close to home whenever I liked, felt like a luxury.
Admittedly, the first time I stepped aboard the South Coast Line and learned about the very real need to “mind the gap”, I half expected to be handed a hot towel and sparkling water.
Instead, I got a slightly sticky seat and a window view so glorious it almost made up for the smell of week-old pee and BO.
Embracing the NSW train system in the Illawarra began for me a few years ago, with my patronage of the system increasing as traffic on the roads grows alongside my anxiety.
Most trips are from the modern Shellharbour Junction to the heritage-listed Wollongong Station — a solid 27-minute journey if the train gods are smiling, and a surprise scenic tour by replacement bus if they’re not.
Occasionally, I’ll venture as far as Central Station, which feels like catching the Hogwarts Express if you squint and pretend Wolli Creek is Diagon Alley.
While a muesli bar from my bag is about as luxurious as the meal service gets, the views are more diverse than you’ll see on any of the world’s most famous train journeys.
Forget the Orient Express where the romantic canals of Venice can’t even be seen from the train window.
We’ve got grazing dairy herds in green paddocks at Shellharbour backed by that incredible escarpment, that next transitions into the glimmer from the wonderfully named Mullet Creek as it zigzags through The Grange golf course, a course so immaculate it makes you question your own lawn care standards.
Forget the Canadian Rockies.
Only a short distance later, you’re sitting atop the escarpment looking out over the treetops to those vast Pacific Ocean views from Stanwell Park or in the thick of the deep green Royal National Park near Otford.
I mean, how can you fault it?
Well, you can’t, just as long as you close your eyes as you pass the occasional mysterious industrial dreamscape and backs of buildings, complete with pallets, fencing and oversized bins large enough to hide secrets.
One thing train journeys tend to lack is art.
But not on the South Coast Line.
While there is some impressive Indigenous art pieces and school students’ murals at stations like Dapto, nothing compares to the exquisite pieces of art that don the overpasses, often depicting men’s anatomy with sheer finesse and in the most vivid of colours.
You’ll never see that in a Banksy.
Of course, every train trip is a lucky dip.
One day, you’re enjoying a quiet carriage — peaceful, serene, almost meditative.
Next, you’re sitting next to a guy freestyle beatboxing explicit limericks from beneath a dark hoodie. But it’s all part of the charm.
Sometimes the train doesn’t live up to its brief and sends in its understudy — the dreaded rail replacement bus.
Nothing says “adventure” quite like guessing where your bus is hiding.
Still, don’t underestimate the humble Illawarra train ride.
Amid its scenic beauty and occasional chaos, at a mere few dollars, it’s the best value train travel holiday you’re likely to have.
