Riding the Rails

I live on the coast a couple of hours south of Sydney. It 's a small place near both the ocean and the railway station. I can hear the waves lashing and crashing and I can hear the whistle as the train pulls out. Those two sounds are like the yin and the yang of my life, the push and the pull.

The ocean is mysterious, powerful, with colours smells sounds and shapes that are always changing. Looking across the endless horizon is like a cleansing meditation. The air is clean and there is always a breeze. Getting anywhere from my house takes me along the beach. Just going out for a loaf of bread is a pleasure. But, beyond explanation, I love to leave! It is almost an addiction. Like any addict, I have a secret stash - just enough cash for one more return ticket.

Of course I am not alone in my passion. There are movies and books about train travel. You know them: 'Strangers on the Train', 'Murder on the Orient Express', 'Throw Mama from the Train'.... There are songs and poems, museums and libraries and a growing number of blogs, all dedicated to trains and train travel.

There is romance and mystery in traveling by train, but only 'half the fun is getting there'. Destinations are  compelling.  Destinations are built with plans and dreams  and, of course, the second destination is always home.  This week Sydney is the destination and I will be on the 6:51 tomorrow morning.