Clickety Clack

Life Lesson

“Your journey is unique and beautiful. Live in and enjoy every moment as you will appreciate the true value of it when it becomes a forever-lasting memory”. - Lois Wagner

Business Lesson

“Savour the process and the journey and not be solely focused on the destination or outcomes”. - Lois Wagner

"I can see the sea! I can see the sea!" us children would chant excitedly, leaning out of the train windows, eager to be the first to spot the distant horizon as we neared the KwaZulu-Natal coastline. The ocean, more than 600 kilometres from our home in Discovery near Johannesburg, was a rare sight. Our annual trips were made possible by the free pass my father received due to his job in the drawing office of the South African Railways. Each year, our family (children under 18 included) got to travel to any destination within South Africa free of charge.

Though I cherished these journeys, a part of me envied my “upmarket” friends, whose holidays were spent in fancy hotels, reached by cars or planes. Meanwhile, we took the train and stayed in humble, self-catering railway cottages, visiting the same two spots every year. Still, our South Coast holidays, with a stopover in Pietermaritzburg, held a magic all of their own. And for me, there was one unique highlight: a stop at my grandfather’s wild, untamed farm either en route to or from the seaside. But that’s another story.

One frustrating memory stands out from the start of every journey—my dad's snooker games. After catching the local train from Hamburg Station to Johannesburg, we would change platforms for the "sleeping" train, as we called it. My dad, a member of a social club near the station, would always sneak in a quick game of snooker before the train departed. Inevitably, he was late. As the conductor blew the whistle, signalling the train’s imminent departure, we would anxiously hang out the windows, scanning the platform for him. Sometimes, we’d spot him running down the stairs form the concourse, and other times, we’d cry thinking he’d missed the train, only to discover he had hopped onto the last carriage, making his way toward us. Once, he actually did miss the train and had to race ahead to the next station.

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On one of these journeys, a man approached my dad on the platform, congratulating him on his tall family. Dad strutted around like a proud peacock that day.

Oh, the memories!

There was something undeniably delightful about train travel. The dining car was a special treat—our family rarely ate out, so dining on the train felt like an indulgence and made us feel rich and special. A staff member would stroll through the corridors playing a xylophone, signalling the start of either the first or second seating. To this day, the sound triggers an almost Pavlovian response in me, reminding me of the mouth-watering three-course meals served by uniformed waiters.

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Then, there was the luxury of having our beds made. In our household, there were no servants, so the mere act of someone making the bed felt extravagant. At night, the rhythmic clickety clack of the train’s wheels crossing over the wooden sleepers would lull us to sleep. We always shared a four-bunk cabin, and the top bunk was a coveted prize.

And waking up to steaming hot coffee, delivered right to the cabin door, was a pleasure like no other. A gentle knock on the door, the rattle of a key in the lock, and before we even replied, in came the porter with our coffee, rich and aromatic.

In the earlier years, our trains were pulled by steam engines, and we loved watching the giant locomotives belch clouds of smoke. But when the trains passed through long tunnels, we had to close the windows tight to avoid the smoke billowing in. We hated this part of the journey—windows shut, the cabin stuffy and filled with the smell of smoke. Eventually, the steam engines were replaced by electric trains, which were quieter and cleaner, but something about the romance of the old steam trains was lost with their departure.

My last family trip by train was perhaps the most memorable. I was 17, and we were headed to Pietermaritzburg for my cousin’s wedding. The Junior Board cricket team was on the same train—15 young men, all under 21. What a thrill! We travelled in first class, and they were in second, with the dining and bar cars in between. Normally, these carriages were locked at night, preventing movement between classes, but my dad, with his charm and connections, managed to keep them open. He entertained everyone with his mouth organ and guitar, while I got to know the boys, even “falling in love” with one of them. The return trip was equally exciting as they were going to be on the same train for the return journey, and my mom bought me a new dress to impress the young cricketers. I ended up dating one of them for about six months.

Fast forward to when I was about 30 years old—I treated myself to a journey on the luxurious Blue Train[1] from Johannesburg to Cape Town. This occurrence was a decadent highlight of my train journeys.? As I was the first of my friends to experience this magnificent extravagance, they all came to the station to see me off, showering me with roses and good cheer.? I had a private cabin, complete with a toilet and shower. No more queuing at public toilets at the end of each carriage like in my childhood!

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As I settled in, the conductor arrived to welcome me. Spotting the roses, he immediately left, returning with a vase to display them. Later, I ventured to the bar, where the bartender greeted me by name and even opened a tab without my asking. I can only assume that the conductor briefed the staff on who was on the train! The ma?tre d’ soon followed, offering me a choice to dine alone or join other single passengers. I chose the latter, enjoying exquisite cuisine and lively conversation with stimulating company.

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The next morning, after a very peaceful sleep, as we approached the Cape, I made my way to the viewing car, having been told that the sight of the mountains was not to be missed. Determined to get the best view, I staked my claim on a prime seat, ordered coffee, and watched as the landscape unfurled in all its glory. Other passengers started moving to the dining car for breakfast, but I was determined to remain in my selected spot. When I asked for a piece of fruit, a beautifully arranged tray of local and exotic varieties appeared before me. I savoured every bite, as I immersed myself in the beauty of my surroundings, both inside and outside the train

Over the years, I’ve travelled by train in Germany, Sri Lanka, Vietnam, and Thailand, but nothing has ever quite compared to the clickety clack of the trains of my youth.

I love train travel and miss the clickety clack of days gone by.

[1] https://www.bluetrain.co.za/